Koya-san: Day One or Andre Converts to Monkdome for a Night
Koya-san was one of those wonderful surprises we humans find whilst sitting on the toilet. This Lonely Planet guide, a meaty monster that strengthens travel knowledge as well as biceps, has served me well when it comes to throne reading and has provided me with travel ideas outside of the mains I intended upon prior to my arrival in Japan. I probably would not have discovered Koya-san without it and thus may not have such an amazing experience as was had there. But first a little history. The temple town of Koya-san is nestled in the woodlands of Mount Koya in the Wakayama prefecture south of where I live. Mount Koya itself is part of a larger range and the town of Koya-san is surrounded by eight peaks with Koya being the most sacred. The town rests about 1,000 meters above sea level and was founded by Kukai, one of Japan’s more prominent religious icons. How can you not want to worship a man who’s name sounds so much like a tasty treat? Kukai, also known by his honorific name Kobodaishi (no, no, not the guy who was working with Keyser Soze), traveled at the age of 31 from China in 804 where he had studied Tantric Buddhism in the old capital of Chang’an. He had been born in Japan and first started practicing Buddhism in Nara at an early age. His travels to China, under the permission of the Emperor, was to further his knowledge on the Buddhist teachings. It is said that Kukai mastered the essentials of Shingon Mikkyo in a mere eight months. Kukai set sail back for Japan after being told by his teacher to spread his knowledge in his own country and “propagate the esoteric teachings”. In 816 he started a religious retreat on Mount Koya after he was granted rights to the land by the current Emperor. A large complex of temples for Kukai’s Shingon school was planned but did not come easy due to the mountainous terrain and financial hardships. It was not until 832 that the first ritual, the Ceremony of Ten-Thousand Flowers and Lights-took place on the still under construction grounds. Having completed his great temple of Kongobuji, Kukai died (or entered external meditation as Buddhists believe his is simple resting) in 835. As centuries passed the complex expanded and would attract hundreds of visitors each year. Those who made the pilgrimage up Mount Koya were met with hospitality from those monks living there and in a tradition that has become the present day Koya-san’s biggest tourist draw the monks offered residence in the temples to those who wished to stay. The area has not been without some tragedy. In the 16th century the daimyo lord decided to make an exhibit of his power by murdering a great many Koya-san monks. Later the monks would lose land and have to ward off invasion by the Hideyosi armies and over time would lose many temples even having their lands totally confiscated by an Edo period government favoring Shinto over Buddhism. Today in Koya-san, where once stood thousands, only 110 temples remain. The monks and surrounding temple villages make up the 7000 people that call the mountain home. However, in Japan and all over the globe over 10 million members look towards the headquarters of the Shingon school on Koya-san as the center place of worship for their religion and up to 4000 temples are scattered across Japan devoted to this practice. Mostly foreign tourist now make the sacred pilgrimage up Koya-san to spend an evening in a temple. This journey is no longer made by foot as it was in ancient times. There is now a cable car that takes you to the top. For the faithful and the followers the attraction is not the ability to stay in a temple but the massive Okuno-in cemetery. Beautiful at any time of the year, Koya-san was a place I could not pass up and there I was on another early morning on another early train off to parts only read about and ready for another adventure.
The weather was originally looking like it might deter me but I decided to go anyway seeing as the alternative was a second day inside during a vacation I did not want to waste a moment of. When the alarm went off at 5am I was already awake. Lately sleep and I have not had a very strong relationship as I just can’t get to the final plateau of unconsciousness forced to remain in the area designated for tossing and turning, flopping around in the sheets like a beached fish. I packed light for this trip: the camera, travel guide, station map, a pair of pants, a sweater as temperatures are slightly higher on themountain and, of course, the Megan Shirt. Like American Express I never leave home with out it. I have been to Oasaka station a few times before and even during the rush of after work crowds but never have I been there during the madness that is the early morning stampede. Although I could have taken an alternate direction I was making a detour to Osaka today to pick up my train tickets for Hiroshima as booked for me by James earlier this week. It was suggested to him by the station staff that I pick up my tickets before departure as Golden Week is unpredictable and if were to arrive to a long line up of people at the station ticket pickup window the bus would not be waiting for me. I decided I didn’t want to take that risk and would travel into the city before making my way to mountain. One of the main problems I find with packed trains is that I am unable to hear the announcements for station stops and I cannot see through the windows to find out what station we are at so basically I am either craning my neck into painful positions or I am guessing. Finding the bus station and knowing the path there through the maze that is Osaka station was of extreme importance. When I returned from Hiroshima I would have a short period of time to catch the last train home before being stranded in the train station. I made mental notes of my surroundings and carefully plotted out landmarks. I snagged my ticket and after some breakfast (I could not find anything but the dreaded McDonalds taunting and teasing but I resisted today and found a convenience store where I nabbed a Danish and a coffee) I boarded the train on a 2 hour trip into Wakayama on my way to Koya-san. The train platform was empty. I was pretty early so I sat munching on my Danish and reading my travel guide deciding what sights to hit first when I made to the mountain. Signs on the platform read “Stepping off the train invalidates your ticket no matter what the destination”. Halfway to Koya-san I wished I hadn’t downed so much coffee. Don’t they have washrooms on these long distance trains? On the way I passed some humorous English signs to take my mind of my throbbing bladder. First there was UGLY DUCKLING HAIR, probably not the best choices of barber shop or salon names. Then there was BEST BREAD MASSAGE. What does that even mean? I have the odd image of somebody robbing rolls all over my body. Is that soothing? Would there be need of butter? The trip to the mountain base Gokurakubashi Station is well worth the ticket price as your train takes you through countryside and forests as you wind and weave your way around the mountains. By the time we reached Gokurakubashi Station the train car, the smallest one I have been on with only three cars, was packed and people had to stand. I hoped I would be able to secure myself some temple lodgings for the evening with this many people vying for those rooms. At the station everyone started off walking really slow, eyeing each other and then the pace quickened and soon it was every person for themselves on a wild dash to the cable car as nobody wanted to be left behind and forced for the next ride up the mountainside. I managed to be one of the first inside, all this working is doing wonders for my sprinting ability.
The cable car up Mount Koya is like one large staircase with people sitting on various levels next to large windows giving you a view of the dizzying ascent upwards. As I look around me on the cable car I realize I am the only foreigner. The Japanese do love their Musak as it is inserted to just about everywhere you go and this cable car was no different as it played string renditions of popular songs as you climbed up the mountain side. This climb reminded me of a roller coaster rising up to the peak before the big drop to the screams of teenage girls. At the top we all unloaded and another rush of people ran off to the bus. I let them pass me this time and found the small information booth where the clerk spoke fine English and helped me book my temple lodgings. My first three choices were booked but he did manage to find me one just as things were looking a little bleak. I thanked him, grabbed a few English maps (on one of them I had the clerk circle my temple and closest bus stop) and waited for the bus. Japanese buses are the opposite from back home. Here you pay when you get off. I did not know this and tried to put my money into the machine…actually, I tired to find where you put your money into the machine. Some of the other passengers tried to help but it was a futile cause to somebody who could not understand them and they didn’t seem to know how the machine next to the driver’s seat worked. The thing only looked to take cards and when I put my money in a ticket didn’t pop out. Only change. How the hell do you use this thing? When the driver came on I was told to wait and I stood there gripping the rail as the push wound around the mountain roads to take us into town. Waling on the road to Koyasan is against the law which is a nice little way for this bus company to make a good deal of money. Midway to town two older British women, at least I think they were from the Liverpoolian accents they sported, were just as confused as I was on how this bus worked. There language skills faired only slightly higher then mine and they found out they were going in the wrong direction. I wonder if the Japanese think all of us ganjins are idiots. I had tried to convey as best as I could to the driver, who spoke a little English, to let me know when we arrived at my stop and he did so in a booming, happy voice and handed me over eight dollars. What’s this? This country really is backwards! The bus pays you! Ahhh, it was an error. He thought I had already paid. I returned to him his money and stepped off into what looked to be the middle of nowhere. I was surrounded by a few small buildings and lots and lots of trees. There was not a temple to be found in either direction I happened to look and there was nobody in sight to ask for directions so I just wandered around until I soon realized that I was standing in front of the temple the clerk at the cable station had circled on my map.
The temple was called Muryokoin. Lonely Planet calls them a down to earth place. They even have their own website which gives a little detail about the lodgings history. This Shingon Temple dates back to over 1000 although the actual building itself is close to 500 years old. Muryoko means immeasurable light and the temple is dedicated to Amida, the celestial Buddha. The temple is a made of wood and you pass under a large gate to get to the main entrance. The stones next to the path are raked in traditional Japanese garden style and the area is decorated by old vases and statues. Although not as grandiose as some temples I have been to, this was a quaint little place to spend the night Slippers sat on shelves next to the steps to let me know that this was a place where shoes were to be kept outside. I chose a comfortable pair and walked inside. The wooden halls were long and bore Buddhist artwork. The place was empty this early in the morning and I roamed the long hallways and past dozens of sliding paper doorways until I found a monk cleaning the floors. He directed me to the office and there another, younger monk gives me a tour of the temple and shows me to my room. At the doorway he drops to his knees and removes my slippers. I am sure this is the tradition of hospitality but it was a little uncomfortable at first. The monk and I attempt a conversation but his English is not very good so he goes off to fetch another monk, a woman, head shaved, in the traditional temple robes. She brings me some tea and sweet cookies and kneels down with me. For 20 minutes we talk about the history of Koya-san, the temple and the form of Buddhism practiced here. She smiles a little when she said that women, until 1872, were not allowed farther then a hall on the outskirts of town. She is very pleasant to speak with, soft voice and peaceful eyes. She wishes me a joyous stay, informs me of the ceremony to take place the next morning I the prayer hall, and she floats out of the room. 
And what a room! All wood, you enter through sliding paper Japanese doors onto tatami mats. In the center of the room is a laid out table and there was a display of artwork on the far wall. The other walls, doors leading into the next room, were painted canvases and just bring in this atmosphere was very spiritual. You really cannot beat this deal: 2 vegetarian meals provided by monks, a night stay in a 500 year old temple and the ability to join in ancient ceremonies for under a hundred bucks. 
After a brief stay in the room for a cup of tea and photos I step outside to be met with my view, a gorgeous and green Japanese style garden with perfectly pruned trees, raked stones and a pond. There was even a garden cat. I could stay in an atmosphere like this for eons, I believe, just feeling the cool mountain winds and listening to the tranquil sound of nature but there was touring to be done and photos to be taken so I slipped off the slippers and sunk into my shoes to roam and wander. 
Reading that the weather was to be bright and sunny tomorrow (and wanting to get back in time for one of my included meals) I decided to take a brief tour of the famed cemetery –although I planed to return here and explore more extensively tomorrow. At the gate of this huge graveyard I was stopped by a group of young girls. “We are junior high school girls,” one of the braver ones nervously said. I smiled wondering where this was going. They wanted me to sign their notepads. They wanted an autograph. Well, they sure know how to make a tourist feel like a celebrity in Koya-san. I jokingly told them I was Brad Pitt thinking they would get the joke because he is in all those SoftBank commercials here. They did not laugh. I changed names to Johnny Depp and they got it. I guess pirates are in season. Sorry Brad. I call the girls Team Andre 2007 because of their matching uniforms.
It really is hard to put into words how stunning Okunoin Cemetery is. Everywhere you look are graves, some new but most looking very, very old. Statues caked in moss are everywhere. Over a half a million tombs are located here in a forest of towering cypress trees. A cobble stone path takes you through the cemetery, the light cutting through the trees above provide for some haunting light. This site is so large because it is believed that followers of the Shingon faith who keep their remains here, if even only a lock of hair, will be first in line when the Buddha returns. The amount of headstones and statues here are just staggering and I couldn’t bring enough memory cards to photograph this place. It is just that huge. The cobblestone path walk through the center of the cemetery is just a starting point as smaller paths branch off around the graves taking you deeper into the tombs and stones to find smaller markers and statues. Famed warlords like Oda Nounaga and Takeda Shingen have graves here and large companies will stake out plots for their workers. It is very silent and peaceful there amongst the cypress and the stones. In front of some statues were baskets to place one and five cent coins into, said to bring good luck. You could really tell the age of a statue by how much moss was caked onto it. Some of them had no heads. Others could very well have been rocks as they were now reduced to rubble. This place was a marvel, a serene place of rest for the thousands and as I toured about the graves, really not knowing where to begin, I listened to the call of the birds in the branches of the trees above walking through the sun beams pushing through the clouds and trees to guide me down the path.
I didn't stay for long here because it was nearly time for the serving of my temple meal so it was back to my shukubo but before I did I had to lift a rock. You might recall my trip to Asuka and the rock in the cage that you lifted to obtain good luck. Here in the Okunoin Cemetery is another such place. In a wooden building just off the main path you can find the Mirokuishi. Here you reach through a hole in the wall to lift another stone but you don’t get off so easy here as you do in Asuka. Here you have to lift the stone onto a shelf and then remove it again. It is said that the stone weighs the same as the sins of those trying to lift it. People here must sin a lot as most struggled with the thing. Really, as I watched, it was all about angles. When it came to my turn I lifted the thing a matter of seconds using both hands and attacking from each side. Either I am crafty or am with very little sin. Nope…crafty. Back at the temple I was met by a monk who, back down on his knees, offered me some slippers and took my shoes. Poor guy. I hope Buddha took note of the smell this guy had to put up with. In my room I awaited my meal, one of the highlights of staying in a shukubo. The meal was brought to me on three plastic trays and placed at the doorway in a T-shape on the floor. I imagine this is the tradition although I had thought that the table in the middle of the room would serve some use. The monk offered me a “have a good time” as he left. With so much to sample from here it would be hard to not have a good time.
This temple meal is called Shojin-ryori. It is vegetarian as Buddhist monks are forbidden to eat fish, meat or eggs which is understood due to religious beliefs. However, it is also noted that these meals contain no garlic. What’s their beef with garlic? Beef? Vegetarian! I kill me! Visually appealing as well as delectable this vegitarian meal is the best dish I have sampled here in Japan. Simply amazing! The dish is a collection of tasty treats that include rice, tempura, sesame tofu and beans. You wash it all down with some green tea and finish with some fruit. 
After the meal I soaked in the soothing waters of a hot tub afterwards slipping into the traditional monks robes provided for me. They were very comfortable. I walked around the garden listening to the crickets chirp and gazing up at the star poked holes into the sky. This was a very good choice, I thought. Back in my room I poured myself a tea from a tea set a monk brought in when he laid out my bedding. Yes, a very good choice. Sleep, this night, came easy. When I get home I really have to thank my toilet.
