Skip to main content

A Short Account of Kurama, Japan (And Why Andy Likes Men)

Thursday 26th  July 2012

The Lonely Planet book states that Kurama is a retreat for Kyotoites who need to get away from the pressures of the city.  The receptionist at J-Hoppers Hostel in Kyoto said that it would be a lot cooler there, and indeed it was: the higher altitude (Mount Kurama rises to 1,916 feet) in an area of little congestion allowed us at least a little respite from the overwhelming heat of Kyoto that has tormented us since we've arrived. 

The train weaved the 12 kilometres north-west through dense forest to the small rural town of Kurama.  You can understand why the residents of Kyoto City like it so much.  For one thing, the train provides a transition from big city to small rural town that is as soothing and restorative as any journey I've ever experienced.  The vast green borders that the train cuts through allows the traveller - Kyoto resident or otherwise - a much-needed period of reflection before the real recuperation begins.  

Sōjōbō (literally "high Buddhist priest") is King of the Tengu, who were minor deities that inhabits the mountains and forests of Japan.  A rather scary sight as we stepped off the train! 
A bridge over soothing waters.
I cannot recall seeing one westerner as we made our ascent towards the peak.  Once we got slightly beyond the main hall of Kurama-dera Temple, we turned around and made our way back down.  Andy and I opted to take a free bus up to Kurama Onsen (Japanese for hot spring - apparently it's the only one within striking distance of Central Kyoto).  Matching Andy's relentless hiking pace had taken its toll, so a dip in the outdoor spring was just what the doctor ordered.  Again, the greenery played its part: the spring looked out on lush green woodland - the most natural of relaxants.  Our time in the hot spring was broken up with a dip in the smaller cold spring.  We felt the rather seismic shift in blood vessel dilation as our bodies adapted from one to the other.     

Before leaving Kurama, we stopped for lunch at a local restaurant where I sat down for a bowl of chicken and egg with boiled rice as we reflected on the day's events.  The portions were bigger than we had been given in Tokyo and Kyoto, so my energy levels were fully-restored by the time I'd finished.  The spirit had been satisfied followed swiftly by the stomach.  A brilliant day out and perhaps my most enjoyable day of the whole trip.  

A panorama of Kurama-dera Temple.
And the reason why I know for a fact that Andy (seen below, right) likes men?  Men is Japanese for noodles. 

Me (left) and Andy relaxing in the restaurant after the hike and the hot spring.

A dish best served warm.


Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

My Letter Carving Workshop is Now Open for Business!

Life-living letter carver, carve me a letter crisp on my headstone and fill it with wonder I'd like to carve it, but you would do better, for you stand above this earth and I am laid under. - Tom Wiggins My new letter carving workshop is now open for business.  Taking bespoke commissions such as memorials (including headstones and cremation tablets), opening plaques and heraldry.  If you're looking for fine hand-carved lettering designed and carved by a fully trained stonemason and letter carver, please get in touch.   I'd be very happy to talk you through the process from design stage right through to installation.  Telephone: 07791969667 E-mail: tomwiggins86@gmail.com Website: www.tomwiggins.co.uk A bit about me:  Born and raised in Gloucester, I now live and work as a letter carver in the beautiful market town of Chipping Norton, Oxfordshire.  My journey in stone began in 2013 with a three-year Diploma in Stonemasonry at The City of Bath College. Th...
1 comment
Read more

G-Dog Advises Me to Go Big on the Blackberries - a Tommy & Moon Story

It was a few weeks into autumn and I hadn’t had a hair cut since before the summer solstice.  My beard, long and straggly and in desperate need of trimming, was a week away from having birds nest in it.  I unpolished my boots and wore some old jeans that were ripped at the knees and dirty from digging a deep hole on a particularly wet day in Highgate Cemetery.  Hanging loosely over the top of those was a baggy grey jumper I spilt half a bottle of bleach over about three years ago.  I looked a bit of a state, but there was a method to my madness.  Today was the day I was going to ask Moon for a pay rise and I wanted to look as if I’d been trod on. On the morning I was due to ask him, my bike got a puncture not twenty yards down the road from my house. It wasn’t a polite slow puncture so that I might finish my journey on a squidgy but rideable front tyre; the thorn tore through that poor inner tube like a javelin through jelly and it had me riding on a stee...
5 comments
Read more

Norman MacCaig: Poetry Hero

I cannot say exactly when I first discovered Norman MacCaig.  It may have been at the beginning of this year, but could well have been at the end of last.  I found him through a tweet.  Six months or more is a long time on Twitter, and when tweets get to a certain age, they're as stubbornly elusive as a missing person who wants to stay missed. But I know the tweet was left by poet  Jo Bell , the director of National Poetry Day, and whose wonderful blog can be found  here .  The link she left took me to an enthralling 25-minute interview with MacCaig.  I liked the man instantly.  I replied to Jo by saying what how charming MacCaig was.  He had a warm sparkle in his eye that only Scots seem to have access to.  He epitomised charismatic.  Unfortunately, embedding has been disabled on the video, but it can be found  here .  Fast forward to yesterday.  I was sat in Stanman's Kitche...
3 comments
Read more