The dead keep it...

J113.1 Monday August 13th (again)

When last we left our intrepid explorer, he was about to enter the mysterious temple of Nishi Otani.

Through the gates was a wide plaza. I went into what looked like a visitor's center, which was packed, but quickly exited given that there was no information about what exactly this place was. It was different from a normal temple or shrine for two reasons: one, it had a lot more people in it than I'd ever seen, and two, it had modern buildings within the temple grounds. Japanese temples don't have modern architecture within their walls, for the most part, but Otani had two large, linked modern structures.

I went through a second set of gates to find myself facing a familiar style; that of the main temple. Two or three dozen people surrounded the temple's main entrance at any given time, though the crowd was constantly shifting. Some came and others left, but always there was a crowd. Heavy clouds of thick incense-smoke billowed from within the crowd, bringing an oddly soporific feeling to the temple grounds.

As I neared, I saw that people were engaged in a series of devotional activities. Some were lighting prayer candles in massive brass lanterns on either side of the temple's door. Others were lighting incense in a large wooden box situated beneath the temple's awning. Still more were leaving offerings of food, drink, trinkets and flowers on a series of wide tables that flanked the donation box. Still others were casting monetary offerings into the donation box. Everyone was praying, but whereas I'd seen Japanese people pray at temples before, I saw they were sporting a new accessory. They were using bracelets of prayer beads. They would be carried either in a bag or on the wrist, but when it came time to pray, they pressed their hands together in the standard Judeo-Christian method and put their joined hands through the loop of beads.

It was an interesting gesture; at once familiar and alien. The beads were many and varied, with each person sporting a different style.

I took a few pictures of the events, gave my own donation to the temple and prayed, bare-handed. I set off to explore more of the temple grounds. One large, traditional, Japanese building was undergoing repairs or renovations, and was off-limits to the public. Another, located at the far end of the temple plaza, was a building for Buddhist services. On the south side of the plaza was the entrance to the larger of the modern buildings, a twin structure linked by a broad causeway. I ventured forth and into one of the buildings, not knowing what lay within. I stepped into a modest but elegant decor. It was very cool and very quiet, with the occasional whispered word or clear chime of a bell or gong echoing down the many passages.

Elevators serviced what I could only assume were multiple floors, and I walked from the lobby into a carpeted section of person-height rows of shelves. It almost looked like a library, except the shelves had no books. Instead, they sported a series of gilded double doors. I saw a few families there, one of which had opened one set of the small brass doors, revealing what looked like a tiny shrine. Flowers and offerings of sake and food adorned the tiny shrines, and that's when I realized what this place was.

It was a mausoleum.

The remains of thousands of people lay quiet and still in tiny family shrines. Families came here to pay respects to deceased relatives, bringing children to pay respects for grandparents who never met them while they lived.

I was still for a moment, taking in the love that echoed through the years. This was a sacred place, and I could almost feel the familial pride emanating in gentle waves from the miniature tombs that surrounded me. Everywhere was cast in soft, brassy light, and despite the air conditioned interior, I felt a sense of comfort and tranquility.

I left the mausoleum and entered the causeway that linked the buildings with the information center. I tried to find a strand of prayer beads for my own, as there were several stands selling them within the temple grounds, but my hands were a bit too big for the ones I found.

When I entered the visitor's center again I saw a small souvenir shop stuffed into the building's back corner. Amongst the many things to purchase were more prayer beads, and I took my time to see if I could find any that fit. At last, I found one that seemed right. It was still a bit tight, but not prohibitively so. It was also affordable, which is always a nice bonus!

I left the temple via the garden again, this time walking a shaded path that put me back on the street near where I'd met the old man and his family. I consulted my map and determined my location to be near the next place I'd wanted to investigate: Kyomizu Temple.

I followed the crowds once again, up a long and steep hill, not knowing what I would find at the top.

Next time, faithful readers, I'll finish my tale of Kyoto.