A Tourist's History of Japan

Not all World Heritage sites are created equal (Wieliczka salt mines and D.F. Wouda pumping station, I'm looking at you). 

But Japan does it right: their sites are entertaining and educational. Those in western Honshu, the heartland of Japanese tourism, provide a CliffsNotes of the country's history - what every visitor ought to know about Japan. To illustrate, here's what we learned from the region's many UNESCO sites.

1. Itsukushima Shrine (500s)

Shintoism

The story: Mt. Misen on the island of Itsukushima (colloquially known as Miyajima) has been worshipped since pretty much forever. The island came to be so sacred, no one could be born or die there, and commoners were verboten. 

A Shinto shrine was established at the base of the mountain in the sixth century, though the present buildings date merely from the 1200s. They sit on stilts over the water; it is said that at high tide (if you squint your eyes right and tilt your head just so), the shrine looks as though it were floating. 

Miyajima's famous torii gate and ninja deer

I read someplace that this design allowed commoners to visit the shrine without ever setting foot on the sacred island: they would steer their boats through the giant torii gate set out in the sea and approach the "floating" shrine by water. Whatever the original purpose of the sea-bound torii gate, it is now one of the most photographed landmarks in Japan. Indeed, the entire island of Miyajima is considered one of the three most scenic places in the country. (Yes, there's a list for that.)

What is Shinoism? The "native" religion of Japan, Shintoism is closely tied to nature and is heavy on the ancestor worship. Shinto traditions are still a major component of Japanese life, even though most Japanese describe themselves as non-religious.

The highlights: 

• The central streets of the village of Miyajima are thick with the Japanese domestic tourism industry (toy shops, candy stores, cheesy restaurants), which provide an anthropological adventure for foreigners. 
• The sea around Hiroshima is known for its giant oysters, which in season are sold on the streets of Miyajima, grilled in their shells to order.

Making momiji at the Traditional Crafts Center

• Miyajima is also known for a cake-like cookie (momiji manju) filled with sweet bean paste, which you can watch being made by Rube Goldberg-esque machines at many of the aforementioned candy stores. Better yet, head to the Miyajima Traditional Crafts Center (just to your left as you exit the ferry terminal) to take a short momiji-making class. We took ours with a teenaged school group, which kindly helped tutor us in the fine art of cookie flipping. 
• Like Nara (see below), Miyajima is home to free-ranging deer. Unlike Nara, these deer are aggressive when you try to eat your momiji in front of them. Seriously, one reared up on its hind feet at me. Not charmed. But from afar, they add character to your photos of the shrine.
• Miyajima is a good option for a romantic night in a traditional inn, at least if you don't have kids in tow. This is where we had our fabulous/fascinating experience at the People's Lodge, complete with our multi-course haute cuisine feast (as described in a prior post). 

Good to know: I highly recommend taking a class at the Traditional Crafts Center as a brief and light-hearted introduction to the local culture. Miyajima is easy to reach from Hiroshima; you do not need a car on the island. Note your JR rail pass covers the JR ferry.

Educational Value: Medium
Entertainment Value: High
Kid appropriate? Yes, but keep them away from the deer.

Templed Out?

In Europe, it is easy to get churched out.  I have few distinct memories of cathedrals; there's just a cold, gray haze of feeling vaguely impressed.  Heading to Japan, we were warned of a similar experience, particularly in Kyoto, of becoming templed out.

I have to say, it didn't happen to me.

I am sure it is possible. Temples (Buddhist) and shrines (Shinto) are everywhere - and I do mean everywhere: tucked between old buildings in historic districts, hidden in the midst of rows of shops, at the end of every street. Markets have their own shrines; city corners and country roads have little Jizo buddhas. Torii gates are omnipresent.

It's interesting, when you consider that Japan is not a particularly religious nation. But despite the sheer quantity, my interest never waned. 

For one thing, shrines and temples in Japan are interactive experiences - even for outsiders. Take my favorite temple experience, Todai-ji, which sits in a giant park alongside other shrines and temples in the center of Nara: like an amusement park for the soul.  Tame deer approach looking for treats and pause, like zen masters, to be petted. The deer, messengers of the gods, defy cynicism: they are simply too, well, endearing.

Todai-ji itself is ginormous, built to house a ginormous bronze statue of Buddha. 

Koyasan: The Legendary Stuff of Legend

Before we left for our two-week trip to Japan, a friend gifted us David Mitchell's The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet, a novel about Dutch people in Japan in the late 1700s (so basically, it was perfect for us). Half way through the book, the story takes a gothic turn when a main character is spirited away to a remote Shinto shrine hidden in the mountains, run by an evil abbot who hides his salacious and murderous plots behind a veneer of religious ritual. I was just reaching the dramatic climax the night we slept at a remote Buddhist temple high in the mountains, surrounded by towering cedars, a sprawling graveyard, and the nocturnal sounds of the forest.

Spending the night on Mt. Koya (Koyasan) was my favorite of favorite experiences in Japan precisely because it was the legendary stuff of legend - the stuff you read about in books but don't expect to experience for yourself. And in turn, every part of our 24 hours in Koyasan was my favorite part, which, when you think about it, is an exceedingly impressive return on travel investment.

Favorite Part #1: Getting to Koyasan.  Osaka, the closest major city to Koyasan, is huge, sprawling, and disorientating to newcomers - the Houston of Japan. Somewhere within the metropolis of Osaka, you switch to Koyasan's private rail line: just two diminutive cars on narrow gage track that winds through increasingly remote farmland (trees weighed down by bright orange persimmons) and then up into the mountains (verdant forests of bamboo and cedar green, filtering the sunlight to a gentle dimness).  In between isolated one-room stations losing their battle with the forest moss, there are sudden vistas of the rolling folds of the mountains, green fading to gray with distance.

Playing chicken on the funicular.

When the train can climb no higher, you switch to a funicular.  The mountainside is so steep here that the rows of seats inside the cable car are nearly vertical.  The short ride tests your faith in the reliability of Japanese engineering.

But that's not all.  After you safely disembark, there is still a bus ride into the heart of Koyasan, down a narrow curving road kept in perpetual darkness by the surrounding forest.  The road opens up into the central intersection of Koyasan, and suddenly everything is white walls and sunshine.