Koya-san: Day 2 or So Many Monks and Not One Thelonious!

I had set my alarm for 530am but there was no need. The last week of early rising has set the button on my internal alarm clock and the body is now waking itself up at the crack of dawn. I dressed and walked outside to the garden. The sun was just rising above the temple giving the mountain dew on the garden foliage a nice glossy glisten. Out from under a bush sauntered a temple cat yawning and stretching as I was. The only thing that would complete this beautiful scene would be a steaming mug of coffee. At 6am a monk rung the bell hanging on the terrace near the garden to begin the morning prayer ceremony. I was shown into the prayer room. It was very warm, this was the first thing to strike me. The next was the glow from a few hundred lanterns that lined the walls of the room. Amongst all the lantern were other various statues and brickabrack. This room could double as an old antique shop. It was cold up on the mountain that morning and I took my place in the room on the floor by a small, black furnace. I would regret this later as the heat in the room intensified but for now it was nice and toasty. Other guest of the temple filed in one by one, most were foreigners like me, and they sat on the benches on the wall next to me set out for ceremony observations. The bell continued to be rung as the monks started to enter the prayer room in their long robes. They sat around a golden alter and another monk in a different colored robe sat at a smaller alter burning incense, the smell soon filling the room. The alters had statues of the Buddha and at the feet of these statues were various offerings such as oranges, rice and tofu. A series of chimes were rung and this begun an hour of chanting, rhythmic and sometimes very melodic but always extremely relaxing. The incense and the chants were like sleeping pills to me as I fought to keep my eyes open. I wish I could have recorded some of these chants for those nights when sleep doesn’t want to take over. I am sure listening to these monks would do the trick. I closed my eyes and breathed in the incense and listened to the chants. Next to me a Japanese guest joined in, kneeling in front of a prayer book. As the ceremony came to a close we, as guests of the temple, were all asked to take part. Buddhist monk audience participation. We formed a line and were lead through the walls of lanterns next to the smaller alter of the monk burning the incense in a black pot. He is also burning wood and it crackles in the flames. Above him hangs a chandelier of small black lamps, miniature versions of the ones around us. The line moves slowly as the monks continue their chant as each of us are asked to take part in the morning’s tea ceremony. Another monk near the small alter hands us a tea cup when it is our turn and then fills it with green tea which we are asked to place on the alter before moving on to another monk who asks us to toss three pinches of black powder into a nearing pot. I was directly in front of the large group of chanting monks now and able to fully see the lavish altar they sat in front of. When the ceremony was over the monk sitting at the head of the main alter walked over to us and knelt down next to me. He thanked us for joining in the ceremony and asked if any of us had any questions. He spoke mainly Japanese and had a very becoming smile blazing white in the dimly lit room. There were no questions. I think everybody was very well medicated from the chants. We then left the prayer room ending this incredible experience. Again, the expense here was so worth the return as being able to participate in these ancient costumes engrossed me deeper into the Japanese culture then I have been thus far. As I sat down to breakfast, another vegetarian dish prepared by the monks, I started to think of how wonderful this area would be in the autumn bathed in color. I certainly can see myself doing this again.



I thanked the monks for the patronage and checked out. I had about nine hours before the last bus took me to the last cable car and took me to last train out of Koya-san so I decided to see some of the sights missed yesterday. I broke out my map and turned left. The streets up here were so clean and you have to wonder if anybody actually lives here because outside of the tourists and shopkeepers I did not see anybody walking around. In times before streetcars and trains the pilgrimage to Koya-san was done on foot with men climbing the mountain to make it to the temples above them. When they arrived a the peak they found the Daimon, a mammoth vermilion gate that marks the entrance into the town. You can image these men, clothes dirt stained from sweating it out on the ascent, gazing at this gate before them with the mountain view behind them. There are two large wooden Kongo warrior statues on either side of the gate with menacing gazes. If you can brave their foreboding glances you will pass under the gate to see spectacular views of Koya-san’s surrounding mountain peaks. It is said that on a clear day you can see as far as the Seto Inland Sea. Today was not a clear day but it was still a pretty nice view.







Koya-san is basically a large smattering of temples and shrines strewn about a small main street of grocery stores, restaurants and souvenir shops. The main street itself is interesting only for those wanting to shop as the more interesting attractions are on either side of it. When you get off the main street your exploration of the town becomes far more interesting as you can venture from temple to temple, even stepping into to most of them because they are used as lodging, and you are also able to walk around their gardens. Outside some of the temples are more of those angry looking statues. Tourists and monks…everywhere you will see tourists and monks. Well maintained paths lead your through blooming flowers. Red bridges can be found all over the town with some of the better garden ponds found on the main temple complex site of the Garan.








This area of Koya-san is the large temple complex and on the grounds you can find a few large pagodas, the red being the more popular. The great red Konpon Daitô was built by Kôbô Daishi himself. Here is where many of the main religious precincts are located and amongst the gardens and buildings you really get the feel for how important this area is for the practice of Shingon. Today on the temple grounds there was an enlightenment ceremony that brought many monks to Kondo (the main hall also constructed by Daishi). They were all in clusters sitting about on the pagodas or chatting in the sun all in their various styles of robes.



Near the Garan you can find two important buildings, one built in recent times and one in ancient. Daishi Kyôkai, with waving colorful flags, This building was constructed in 1924, on the 1,100th anniversary of the Kôbô Daishi. Nearby is the most important building in Koya-san, Kongobu-ji temple. This temple is the main temple for the practice of Shingon Buddhism and was built by that temple building machine Hideyoshi Toyotomi, the Frank Lloyd Wright of Japan. The abbot lives here. The Costello lives in the other building. Heyyyy abbbbbotttttt!




















On the other side of the town is the cemetery and today I decided to make the photography a bit more challenging by setting out before entering that I could only take one photo of something, no alternate angles or the like. This allowed me closer study of my subjects before taking my picture to ensure that where I was shooting from would be the best spot for the image. There are many superstitions and traditions surrounding this cemetery. If you do not see your reflection in The Well of Reflections it is said that you will die within three years. I did no look. The Tama River passes through the cemetery. A local legend tells of the tale of a day when Kukai witnessed a man about to eat a small fish he had just skewered. Kukai purchased the fish and released it and though it was thought to be dead the fish began to swim. The man stopped fishing and became a Buddhist. The legend says that the small specks on fish are believed to be scars by skewering. Today the mountain people do no eat this kind of fish. The slopped steps on the path are made that way for a reason. It is believed that if someone were to fall down the steps they would be dead in three years. The steps were built on a slope to prevent this and were made with 43 steps. The number 42 sounds very much like the pronunciation for “a death” so another step was added. The long path leads you towards the mausoleum where it is believed that Kukai stills rests, not dead, in enternal prayer. Before you get to the temple you find several black statues in front of large crowds of Japanese. There was a line for these statues. They are the mizukake jizo guardians and crowds line so they can toss water over the statues as an offerings to the dead. The statues nice and wet, the Japanese can now enter the sacred grounds of the mausoleum. English signs warn of smoking and photography in this area. Inside are hundreds of lanterns, some which are said to have been burning for centuries. Around the back of the building the faithful gather to pray.

After visiting the mausoleum I continued around for the next two hours exploring the various graves. More bridges, more shrines and more monks and then I was out of time and back on the cable car. The bus to the station was even more crowded then coming here. Really, you shouldn’t have that many people on a bus. If there are no more seats wait for the next one. You could not move. Breathe. What made matters even more frightening was the slight wobble the bus gave around each turn down the mountain road and I swear I saw us all hurtling over the edge to our death with each turn. But we all lived to cram ourselves into the cable car which brought us to the a train to pack ourselves into. I split from the crowds about 35 minutes into the ride. I had been told to go back to Osaka the way I came and it would be faster but my website train times told me otherwise and I decided to choose technology over man this time and much like it was for Kasparov technology won. The cable car clerk said it would take me 4 hours to get back home via his way. I made it in just under two. Back home again I tossed some more clothes into a bag as tomorrow would be another early morning rush to Osaka station. There was a bus to catch and another city to explore.