Along with my parents I recently visited Koya-san (Koya mountain) in the southwest of Japan. Although we stayed here only one night it has thus far been one of my best, if not the best, ‘Japanese’ experience.
An ancient and sacred mountain, Koya-san lies just fifty kilometers south of Osaka. An isolated and unique community set high in the mountains amidst a cedar forest, it has a unique and tranquil atmosphere. Encircled by two concentric mountain chains of eight peaks each, this geographical lotus blossom made an ideal place to try getting ‘spiritual’ and escape from the madness of Tokyo. Because of the altitude (over 800m) it was cooler and there were late cherry blossoms making it an ideal escape from the rest of Japan.
Following a dramatic train ride followed by a cable car to the mountaintop, we left our bags at the temple and went exploring. The ancient temples and gates of Kongobu-ji and Dai-mon were quite amazing. History, culture and beautiful views abundant, but it is the magnificent cemetery of Okunoin that stands out in my.
Set in a mysterious and cool moss-lined forest, it boasts half a million graves, the most famous of which is the mausoleum of Kobo Daishi (the founder of the mountain). A hypnotic twenty-minute walk in the cool mountain air took us past a vast range of graves, from the ancient faded stones to the all-singing, all-dancing modern graves provided by some of Japans bigger companies for there employees. Going deeper into the forest we saw that Koya-san is a popular place for pilgrims. I even got chatting to an old man as we stopped to look at the same ancient tombstone. ‘Where are you from’, he asked in Japanese. ‘Ireland’, I told him. ‘Oh, that’s far’, he replied. ‘Yes’, I agreed, ‘and you?’ ‘Tochigi prefecture’ was his answer. ‘That’s also far ‘ I said. ‘Yes’ he agreed, ‘very far.
At the little Tama-gawa river there is a line of bronze statues. Here, as a service to the dead, it is traditional to douse the statues with water. Apparently forgetting about Heaven and thinking about Nirvana my parents indulged in this water fight with statues that can’t fight back. Then on up the path to the Hall of Lanterns, in which ten thousand lamps are kept alight, two of which have been burning since the eleventh century. Next was the mausoleum, considered the spiritual centre of the mountain. A little understated perhaps, but nearby we got to test the weight of our mortal sins.
Within a latticed wooden structure lies a special rock. The weight of this stone reflects the weight of one’s sins. If you can lift the stone with one arm onto the shelf, you are pretty much guaranteed a place in Nirvana. I tried and failed. But then through grit and determination (or maybe a strength that can only be built after years of throwing bricks) my Da managed to do it. The onlooking old ladies burst into a round of applause shocked that it had been done. Mother stepping up to the challenge failed miserably, as I imagine a lot of women do due to the weight of it. But the way I see it is, Da can have his little victory, because what fun us Heaven without women anyway.
Over one hundred temples are scattered around the cedar-filled valley that makes up the town. Many founded over 800 years ago and offering shukubos or temple lodgings. Run by monks, facilities and rooms were quite basic. In fact, I startled the girl next to us whilst innocenty looking for blankets. Opening what I thought to be the closet I found myself iin the next room looking at an equally shocked young lady. The other three ‘walls’ were also nothing more than paper barriers between us and our neighbours. And the forth ‘wall’ opened out onto the hall. So there was certainly a communal atmosphere with our fellow ‘inner-peace-hunters’, but I pitied them for the night ahead and their introduction to the world’s loudest snorer, my Da.
We skipped the evening meditation service in favour of lounging around in our Yukattas – Japanese robes, and drinking green tea. However, dinner was an occasion not to be missed. An individual vegetarian feast for each person. Served by high school student monks in training we each had an array of dishes scrupuluously presented in beautiful dishes and trays, including our own little single serving stew cooking over our own little single serving flame. Shifting and squirming to get comfortable sitting on the floor, we soon forgot any aches and pains as the lady of the temple came in to speak. Old and frail and needing a microphone just to project her voice to our small group, she somehow held a strength and presence that only years of experience can bring. As widow of the head monk of this temple, she had amazing stories of the war, the founding of the mountain and of the hardships experienced in this majestic place. Everyone sat spellbound for an hour or more as her clear, but measured English transformed us back to another era.
After dinner the whole of Koya-san seems to go to sleep making it perfect for a stroll around town or just around the temple grounds checking out the public bath, ponds and dry gardens.
The next morning we all rose at five. There was chanting from six. The hypnotic mantra of the monks within an intimate incense and candle filled room made for an inchanting start to the day. And after breakfast it was time for the dramatic cable car and train journey back to the madness.
Photos (from top): statues at the cemetary, front garden of our temple, bronze statue at the river, mother paying respect, ancient graves, one of the gardens with pond at our temple, moss-covered tombstones, da and me at the river, da lifting the 'stone of sin'.
