Kyoto, Japan: Kinkaku-ji (Temple of the Golden Pavilion)

When you think of Japan lots of things come to mind.  Anime, sushi and sake, or maybe even this stuff.....but what I ended up loving when I left Japan sounds like a cheesy Martha Stewart special: what I appreciated was the delicate planning the Japanese put into a garden.  The Zen gardens were lovely to explore in their simplicity, but once a garden is truly cultivated, there's a balance in the leaves, and the way the water shapes itself around the trees that makes the most simple places paradise.  Then, add a temple painted bright gold, and you have magic. 

Kinkaki-ji was of the few places I paid to get in, and I almost didn't go at all, but two girls from Singapore found me on the verge of a nervous breakdown (because my PIN number wasn't working and I was completely out of money).  What would have taken days in horrible English instead took (only) three hours: they helped me in the Japanese they knew, and we finally got an ATM to work internationally.  They didn't have to help me, but you learn when travelling that people need to help each other when they can.  They could have easily wished me luck (or thought me crazy) and went on their way, but instead their generosity helped me to salvage a day in Kyoto.  After we (or maybe just me) calmed down over a bowl of noodles, we decided to make our way towards the temple together.

On the bus, we met a man who happened to live across from the temple.  Thankfully, feeling safer with my new companions, we didn't think it was that strange to accept an invitation to his home.  He paid for the bus fare, and lead us to his beautiful villa.  He gave us scarves with his own designs, gave us drinks, and (once he found out I was from New York City), talked about the New York Yankees pretty much non-stop.  We took some pictures, talked for a little while, then we went on our way happy to have made a new friend.  Because of a miscommunication he thought I still lived in NYC, and when he wanted an address from me in order to write a letter, I couldn't bear to break his heart.  So, I gave him a friend's address.  Two weeks later she received this:

The temple was worth every penny, and we got there as the sun was about to set, leaving a golden color on the leaves and water as it rippled away from the temple.  I realized I had met three wonderful people that day because of a stressful money crisis.  It was worth it to be able to have the adventure I did, even if I didn't know it at the time. Travelling is a wild animal in itself: strange, unpredictable, and hard to communicate with.  Sometimes you simply have to wait until its calmed down enough on its own, and sometimes there are people there to help you sooth it back under control.

Japan: Kyoto

Somehow, with the craziness of Mud Festival, trips to Sokcho, Suwon, various hiking expeditions, and of course the ever-present Hong-Dae I never wrote about Kyoto.  Which, ironically, was by far my most favorite city I have been to so far while travelling, and my favorite city in Japan (which included a temple stay)! Tokyo had the amazing people, sights, and good food, but Kyoto held the history, and I was anxious to get there.

It started off with what was a good plan on paper and not-so-ideal in real life.  Like most plans made for logistics and not comfort, it maximized my time there. So no: I do not regret trying to sleep on a midnight bus from Tokyo to Kyoto, then trying to find a secret place to nap (and failing) until the city woke up.

The bus and train station in Kyoto is absolutely beautiful with amazing restaurants and a truly wonderful visitor center I highly recommend.  Unfortunately, it didn't open until 9 a.m. so I had three hours to kill.  I threw my luggage in a locker and walked to the nearest temple, which happened to be (as would most everything I saw) embedded in a deep and fascinating history.  With the help of Johnnie, an self-professed ancient man who's been leading tours in the area for about a million years, I learned all I needed to know (and maybe a little more that didn't really matter)  Still, well worth the 2,000 yen.  (http://web.kyoto-inet.or.jp/people/h-s-love/)

My favorite place was the Gion District, with its old alley ways and wooden buildings.  Within the old structures, there are English-friendly menus, jazz clubs, and delicious food.  It's right on a river, with a canal running down the main street as well, and the sunsets were beautiful.

There's an old theater, and an interesting geisha show that depicts all the different talents a geisha learns (with brochures in every language, which was great for the German friends I made at the hostel).  It was in this area that I made sure to take a tea ceremony class, which I rudely interrupted and overall failed as a geisha.  I was much better at the sake tasting.

Gion is also a good area for getting the subway and buses, which I immediately took to the Fushimi Inari Shrine, Kinkakuji (Golden Temple), and Ninnaji Temple, and Arashiyama (with its bamboo forest and monkey park). 

In the end, I was in Kyoto for four days, but learned and experienced so much I remember it as a journey.  It was a perfect blend of old and new, modern and traditional, urban and suburban.  I can't wait to do it again.

Ninnaji: Temple Stay

Originally built in the 9th century (but of course burned down numerous times, as is everything stubbornly rebuilt over and over in wood), Ninnaji Temple was a palace-turned-Buddhist-temple built for those with imperial lineage to serve as head priest.  It's oldest buildings are now from the 1600's.  It's famous for its five-story pagoda, large sprawling grounds, and cherry trees that have been cultivated for hundreds of years. 

It is a UNESCO World Heritage Site.  And I stayed there for the night.    

In most of Japan I spoke in short phrases I had learned and they simply guessed what I needed or responded in English.  Thankfully, this temple has a website with good directions in English.  The blog takes a while to get a response from, but the hotel lobby had Wi-Fi.  This was fortunate, because it was the first time while I was in Japan that there was truly a language barrier between me and the man in the simple clothing.  Fumbling with Google translate ensued. 

Because I've been living in Korea, I knew enough general Asian etiquette: what to expect as far as meals, how to accept and receive money, and how they used baths--I was able to fully take advantage of a hot spring and bath area all to myself, which felt heavenly after a long day of hiking my bag all over Kyoto.  I made some tea in my room and was asleep with the sunset. 
    

The next morning I awoke well-rested at 5 a.m. in time for the service.  I found that besides the Buddhists living at the temple, the other guests were one Japanese family of four, a foreign man married to a Japanese woman, and me.  The ceremony was just what I hoped for.  Although there was no English, my interest and knowledge of Buddhism served me enough to appreciate the beauty in the symbolism and simplicity.

The ceremony lasted thirty minutes or so and afterwards, with the sun just rising, I felt I had been transported to ancient times.  The tourists still hadn't arrived by the time we finished breakfast.  I had time all by myself to wander in and out of the cherry trees, appreciating the uniqueness of the experience.  The simplicity of the service had gotten to me.  Not having a phone, simply living out of a bag, simply taking each moment as it came to me was a meditative experience in its own right--something true travelers experience and become addicted to for its freedom. 

After a while, the couple approached me and the man asked if I would like to listen to his wife translate the introduction the priest gave to us at the beginning of the service, welcoming us and explaining a bit of the temple's history. As she finished the fascinating explanation the front gates opened, letting the tourists in for the day.  That was my cue to leave.

Not Normal.

It's the end of January, nine months into my contract, with only three short months left in Korea.  Since I've stopped writing I've gone to Japan (Tokyo and Kyoto) for a week, I've gone to Taiwan (Taipei and Taroko Gorge) for four days, and the Philippines (Tacloban and Bilihran Island) for yet another week.  Oh, and I've been in Korea this entire time.

I can't believe how quickly this life became normal for me. 

Of course I wanted to write.  Of course I had things to say about what I did.  However, being surrounded by others who share the same interests--that have travelled just as much if not more than me--convinced me that what I was doing was average. Not worth sharing. Normal.  As if staying on a private island surrounded by untouched jungle and no electricity with a group of friendly locals helping you fish for breakfast was normal (Higatangan Island, Philippines).  As if attempting to hitch-hike on a thin strip of road with a wall of stone on one side and a rushing river in the gorge hundreds of feet down was average (Taroko Gorge, Taiwan).  Almost as if staying in an ancient temple on palace grounds before it is opened for tourists, waking up with the monks for a Buddhist service that has been happening at sunrise for hundreds and hundreds of years was an uninteresting day (Kyoto, Japan).

I realized in Japan that if I really wanted to travel--and continue for some time--I would have to find new ways of discovery.  I was glad to see Tokyo, but it had the same Starbucks that Seoul and New York did.  It had McDonald's and Wi-Fi and movie theaters.  It had a subway and set prices and imported food.  I love these things (I really do), but ultimately it is detrimental to learning what the essence of a culture is and meeting those from that culture.  Strangers are less likely to help you in a city where the signs are in English.  They're less likely to talk to you, and probably won't even notice you.  You're more likely to know exactly what you've ordered at a restaurant.  And you're able to figure out exactly how to flush the toilet.

I am slowly but surely going around the world, meeting interesting people and learning where I belong in the whole colorful, adventerous mess. My travels may not be easy, but they are a rewarding challenge for the true back-packers out there.  I want to let others interested in these things know when, where, and how to travel as best as I can.  I want to make it easier to get to Sokcho, or Maokong, or Kyoto and save the traveller after me some precious time on their trip.  I also realized that where I plan on going, you need all the help you can get. My stories can help travellers who believe that tanning on a beach in Boracay is not a true Filipino experience, or that Seoul shouldn't be all that one experiences in Korea.

And I've had adventures that, if nothing else, I would like to write down and remember and look back on.

So, this is my own little manifesto.  I have three months to really dig deep and discover more of Korea from Gyeongju to Jeju Island.  I have a couple of months to document my trips through southeast Asia this summer.  I have a lifetime of new places, people, and discoveries to find.  You're welcome to follow me.