A typical garden area of Hase-dera, a temple containing Japan's biggest statue of Kannon, just outside Kamakura. The statue itself, with my luck, was largely invisible behind temporary scaffolding.
Hase-dera's main hall. Smaller halls enshrine deities such as the Buddha Amida, as well as Daikokuten and Benzaiten, two of the Seven Gods of Good Luck.
No explanation was forthcoming for this statue, but I note that the four guardian deities surrounding the Buddha are each trampling what I suspect to be a Maya, or infernal spirit representing various vices.
A Nagomu (or heart-warming) Jizou. Just looking at one of these statues is meant to bring happiness and soften your heart. It's surprisingly effective. More on Jizou below.
Off to the side, a small shrine to Inari, a kami of prosperity, usually associated with foxes. Persona 3 fans, rejoice. Everyone else, note that it is entirely standard to have Shinto spirits enshrined as part of a Buddhist temple in Japan, and vice versa.
Other points of interest included a rinzou, a round structure containing Buddhist sutras. Spinning it is thought to deliver the karmic benefits of reading all the sutras (because Christianity with its indulgences is far from the only faith to have invented the concept of cheap shortcuts). Also a cavern containing carvings of Benzaiten, aforementioned goddess of good luck, and of her sixteen servitors (carved as children) who each watch over a domain such as safe travel. Those who wish may pay for a small statuette of Benzaiten and place it somewhere within the corresponding cavern to grant their wish. Furthermore, there were a couple of statues which visitors were encouraged to rub for good luck.
Ironically, the place which struck me most was also the place which, by virtue of being outdoors, was entirely photographable. Unfortunately, doing so felt wrong (and I wish I could clearly explain why), so a verbal description will have to do. The initial appearance of it was fairly positive - hundreds of little statues of the bodhisattva Jizou lined up beyond a stream, a larger statue with a ladle (to pour water over it by way of purification), a swastika-shaped pond (reverse of the Nazi swastika, and apparently an ancient symbol of fortune; my own knowledge suggests that it can represent the Sun as well as the cycle of reincarnation). Alcoves off to the sides where one can burn incense, as well as a little hall with a larger statue of Jizou and trays for offerings. Then you see the offerings and remember why people pray to Jizou. The offerings are toys, and the prayers are for Jizou to look after the souls of miscarried children. Every one of the hundreds of little statues was placed there by a family praying for a child that was never born. Suddenly, the air of faint sorrow surrounding that area of the temple makes perfect sense.
Nor was it just a site of historical interest. People were praying there even as I looked around, and the toys were all new, many made of that ubiquitous contemporary cheap plastic. It was a potent reminder of the unchanging nature of human needs and human feelings, however old the religion.
After Hase-dera, we moved back to Kamakura, and had lunch at my first ever sushi shop. I don't know how many of you are familiar with the Japanese kaiten-zushi, but I will describe in detail for those who aren't. A conveyor belt carried dishes of sushi (usually two pieces per dish; six for the smaller maki-zushi) around the room, allowing one to pick individual kinds to one's satisfaction. Below it, a similar conveyor belt in an alcove supplied dishes for soy sauce and mugs which could be filled with readily available powdered green tea, and then hot water from an adjacent tap. Spices and palate-cleansing pickles, as well as chopsticks, were freely available. After eating there, I may just about be ready to concede that, under certain limited circumstances, when entrusted to the experts, it is not impossible for fish to taste good. However, I have to say that finding the good in fish just takes too much effort compared to meat or chicken for me, so my parents' hopes of at least a partial conversion from vegetarianism at the end of this are fruitless.
We then proceeded to the Kamakura Daibutsu, Japan's biggest Buddha statue. Made of 30 different layers of bronze using construction techniques invented specially for the purpose, this Buddha is hollow on the inside as a perfect expression of the Buddhist doctrine of anata or no-self. I fear, though, that that's as exhaustive a description as I can provide. It's a Buddha statue. It's very big. Its expression suggests a relaxed sort of patience with the endless clamour going on around it - I have seen something very similar on the faces of many of Japan's cats. That's it, really. Oh, and you can go inside for 20 yen, though there's not much to do except learn about bronze casting (though kudos for an excellent English translation throughout).
This notice stood before the entrance to the Buddha's courtyard. Based on the combination of perfect archaic English and the dodgy spelling of "Buddha", it could actually be as old as it looks.
The Daibutsu in all its glory.
Perfectly located just outside the monastery of Japan's biggest Buddha, this souvenir shop sold the largest selection of replica weapons you can imagine. It had everything pre-20th Century, from katanas and axes to pistols, crossbows, medieval armour and specialised ninja gear. Also Hello Kitty phone straps.
Afterwards, we went to the Hachiman-gu shrine, possibly Kamakura's biggest and most important. After walking down a long road lined by cherry trees (gorgeous in April, I was told, and the dream walk of many an aspiring bride), we arrived to find that a Shinto wedding was in progress. Apparently, anyone can register to have their wedding ceremony at a place like this, so I'm surprised that 99% of Japanese couples don't elect to do so, because both the setting and the traditional Shinto clothing were gorgeous (though the drone of the priest reciting ritual blessings from a scroll rivalled my old Biology teacher for boredom-inducing power). I must confess, though, that the shrine proper made no real impression on me. It didn't have the reverent aura of the Meiji Jingu, or the towering grandeur of Sensoji, and a shrine that fails to impress on both religious and secular levels really doesn't have much going for it.
Entrance of the lengthy Hachiman Sandou. It was quite atmospheric, in spite of the wider road around it being lined with shops.
Law of Anime Japan no. 342: "Every festival at a shrine must contain at least one stall selling a variety of inane masks." There was no festival that day, unless you count the wedding, but never let a merchandising opportunity go by.
Wedding ceremony, rear view. Note the bride's traditional white kimono and headdress (the white has symbolic meaning, but is not compulsory).
Hachiman shrine, main building. Apart from a small collection of mikoshi or portable shrines, there is nothing special to see inside.
Having exhausted the limited attractions of the kami Hachiman's dwelling place, we decided to head further towards the outskirts, towards the tomb of Minamoto no Yoritomo and towards one of Michiko's favourite shrines, that of Tenjin, kami of academic learning. The latter illustrates a fascinating form of Shinto reincarnation. Originally a humble scholar named Sugawara no Michizane, this man was hounded by his rivals and died in exile. Shortly after his death, a succession of horrific storms plagued the capital and caused great death and destruction, especially to members of the Fujiwara clan that had brought about his downfall. It was decided that this was the vengeful spirit of Michizane, and in order to placate him, the authorities set up a shrine worshipping him as the new kami Tenjin, and spared no expense in elevating it. Ultimately, Tenjin's prowess as a scholar in life eclipsed his power over disasters in death, and today his shrines are the number one destination for students hoping to be blessed with academic success. Unfortunately, when we got there his shrine was already closed, so that particular history lesson ends there.
Instead, we turn to Minamoto no Yoritomo, the man who put Kamakura on the map at the end of the 14th Century. Wishing to distance himself from what he saw as the decadent court of the Kyoto capital, Yoritomo built up his power base near several allied clans at Kamakura, and challenged the Taira clan which then held influence over the emperor and thus over rulership itself. His victory established the Kamakura Shogunate, moved the capital, and was the foundation for the following 650 years of samurai rule (though the actual rulers changed many times). Now, the warlord's resting place is a quiet, peaceful grave in a small grove sheltered by tall trees and accessed by a steep staircase. A small offertory box stands, largely disused, off to the side, and as I watched, a woman spent a few minutes in prayer to Yoritomo's spirit - though I can't imagine what one would ask of such a man.
If Minamoto no Yoritomo's last wish was to "rest in peace", then it was certainly granted. Were I to be buried, I, too, would want it to be in a place like this.
Our final destination, unlike Yoritomo's, was the Kamakura-gu shrine. Perhaps ironically given their proximity, it enshrines Prince Morinaga, imprisoned and ultimately executed here while fighting the Ashikaga Shogunate for the restoration of imperial rule. Once again, I fear there is little of great interest to say about it. Perhaps I am becoming jaded where religious sites are concerned.
En route: some Kamakura homes have ancient gates like this. Kamakura's history and beautiful wooded scenery makes it a highly desirable place to live in.
All Shinto shrines have spots like this, where one may use a ladle to purify one's hands and mouth with water before entering the shrine grounds.
An unusual, white rather than red, torii. Note the pre-shrine car park, decorated with a traditional Japanese "no vehicle entry" sign. Only those who solve this paradox are permitted to enter.
In the shrine proper, the statue of Mikawari (I'm not too clear on the name) will heal the corresponding area of wherever you rub it. The figure to its left bears no visual resemblance to Michiko, despite being her.
Close-up of the left side. These archaic-style figurines are the shrine's equivalent to ema - one writes a wish on the back and then puts it next to the others.
By the way, the ema of the day, from Hachiman-gu shrine, prays for the world not to end in 2012. Spoilsport. At any rate, after this, we headed back. Overall, Michiko's company today was fun - I'd probably have got a different sort of enjoyment on my own, but it was nice both learning more about the standard Japanese attitude to these places, as well as just chatting to Michiko in Japanese on a variety of topics, including various views on marriage (she actually thinks it preferable that Yuya marry a foreigner, unlike many more traditional Japanese parents).
Culinary Engrish of the Day: is it me or does that last sentence smack of desperation?
A Kamakura postbox. Apparently, ones of this shape are very old, and now practically non-existent.
Anime fans: can I really be blamed for optimistically misreading that sign as "Cafe Geass"?
P.S. Bonus photo from yesterday:
In Japan, country of ultimate politeness, even the seagulls are trained to line up in regular rows.
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