| The traveller drags himself up and out of the house to meet Jon, a feat which would not have been possible withoutly a timely 7am phone call from said former cognitive scientist. Quickly and deliberately the pair ensconse themselves on a train heading south for Kamakura. Why Kamakura? Well one reason is that the traveller had previously purchased a guide book that detailed a number of walks in and around the Kamakura/Yokohama area. The first Kamakura walk had been suggested to end in a short trail through the woods, making it slightly more attractive than many of the more urban possibilities. Thus, the pair of young British men arrive in Kamakura before 9am and set off to try and follow the map and directions provided by the "Trails of Two Cities guidebook" (no, really, that's what it's called). | ||
 | Kamakura is reknowned (at least according to the guide book) as the place that most Tokyoites would prefer to live if they had the chance. It is in fact not much more than an hour from Tokyo by train, which is a short commuting time for most Japanese these days. The reason that Tokyo dwellers would rather switch their dwelling to Kamakura is that it is still seen as inaka (countryside) and as the place where the rich and successful people have moved to once they have become rich and successful. It also has a beach, and apparently, a giant buddha. From what Sam has heard, Kamakura is the place to see temples and old fashioned Japanese architecture, so anway, it seemed like a good idea for a day trip.
| Oh yeah, and like, Kamakura was the political center of Japan between about the 11th and 14th centuries, which seems to have made it the center for people killing themselves and each other in the most diabolically convoluted ways possible, but more of that later. Following detailed instructions from the guide book, Sam & Jon slip away from the light bustle of the main station and across the (imagine a really deep butch voice) *Road of Love*. |
| The *Road of Love* is so named because it was (allegedly) built by Yoritomo (head honcho guy from 12th century) as a present to his wife, to make up for the fact that he had been indiscriminately shagging around (Jeeez, the things you have to do for women). This first sexual reference is not easily dismissed as the guide book helpfully provides more in the form of, and I quote, "a phallic-shaped purplish red rock". The rock in question is of course vaguely phallus-like, but only so far as every roughly cylindrical object in the universe is. Still, it is at least slightly red and does mark the entrance to a shrine that is the first part of the walk. The procreative references continue as we learn that this rock is somehow used to determine the sex of an unborn child, but sagely the travellers enquire no further and penetrate (sorry) into the interior of the shrine gardens. |
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| The Daigyo-ji gardens (for so they are called) are rather relaxing and peaceful, even though they are squashed into a very small urbanised space with telegraph wires running above them. The two Brits contemplate the inner harmony of existence for all of three femto-seconds and then allow themselves to be drawn further along the trail. Exiting from the back of the Daigyo-ji there is a little confusion which seems to be resolved when the pair discover a second shrine that appears to conform to some of the guide book's descriptions. Investigating this second religious location Sam and Jon discuss just how quickly the phenomenon of "Templed Out" can strike after entering Japan.
| At a rough guess the travellers have already seen in excess of sixty temples/shrines/whatever in Japan, and after overcoming the initial excitement and novelty of it all, one has to face the fact that basically, these places are all pretty similar. More importantly, they do not provide such a huge amount in the way of entertainment, and although some are set in remarkably beautiful places, to the hardened gaijin they seem less than an end in themselves. (Okay so I'm barbarian, a philistine, but who were we trying to kid that things were otherwise?) |
| There follows more confusion over location since, unbeknownst to Sam & Jon, there are in fact over three hundred temples and shrines within Kamakura alone, and they are beginning to discover that a guide book that orients you by your relative postion to temples is not as clear-cut as it might be when you can't move but fall over some kind of holified structure. Nonetheless, the travellers manage to find the spot which commemorates where a certain gentlemen called Nichiren first begin to preach in Kamakura in the 13th century. This particular manic street preacher is credited with having predicted the first invasion of Japan by the Mongols, and has also been referred to as the "Reverend Ian Paisely of Japan", at least according to the guidebook, but the plaque that commemorates him offers little further information. |  | |
| In the absence of more exciting diversions the two Brits undertake a search for local caves, or yagura, in which the last Hojo (?) regent of Kamakura is purported to have committed suicide with over eight hundred of his personal retainers (they had lost a battle or something). Not so much interested in the reports of mass Seppuku by medieval Japanese, Sam & Jon are in fact more excited about the possibilities of finding some cookies that are referred to obliquely in the guide book; it says "Let's not worry about it (the ghosts from the Japanese suicides). Instead pick up some of the famous cookies made by the brothers here. They come in nine varieties." (allegedly)
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| Driven by an insatiable desire for something munchable the pair huff and puff their way up steep side streets which take them past many beautiful Japanese dwellings, and the conversation turns to just how funkalicious it would be to have a special magical house, the front of which opened out into England, and the back of which opened out into Japan. From there of course, it is no small leap to the topic of matter transportation, and just how convenient it would be to explore the farthest reaches of the world by day, and sleep in your own bed every night. How would travel be affected? Would every beautiful place become crowded with tourists? Would there be no place that you could escape to for tranquility, because someone would always get there first? Or would the people of the world spread themselves out more evenly making everywhere much more pleasant to be? | 
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| But more importantly, where exactly could two ravenous young men find some cookies. After much vertical movement, Sam & Jon find a cave, suitably commemorated with a big stick stuck into the mud in front of it. There is little sign of any cookies, let alone any brothers. The cookie passage in the guidebook fails to mention how one should contact the brothers upon getting to the haunted caves, or indeed anything further on the subject of food. As they begin the climb back down the steep side alleys, Sam & Jon wonder just what kind of hallucinogens the writer of this guide was on while exploring Kamakura. Certainly, cookies would have played a highly functional role at this point in the trek, and perhaps this was all that the author of the guide had had to do, imagine them, and lo, there had been real, yummy, scrumptious, cookies. | |
| Anyway (getting a bit cookie obsessed, aren't we?), in the absence of any confectionary (male sibling derived or otherwise) the two Brits make do with onigiri from a seven-eleven conveniently located at the beginning of the next part of the trail. Sam sinks to his knees in praise of this new foodstuff, offering thanks to a number of assorted Japanese deities (later, he finds out he was in fact kneeling on a small temple at the time, so the prayers weren't wasted after all) for this convenience snack to surpass all other bits of triangular shaped rice wrapped in seaweed. Seriously though, this is the first convenience food that Sam has found in Japan that is even vaguely healthy, and for this small concession towards a balanced diet we must be duly grateful. |  | |
| The guidebook is also particularly user-friendly at this point in that it provides at alternative to the busy (with traffic) salt highway that leads out of Kamakura. The alternative is a rather more pleasant stroll through the town's backstreets, providing nothing more complex than neat Japanese housing and winding rivers, but this is quite enough as a backdrop to the linguistic discussion that is struck up by the pair; Sam extolling the virtues of learning another language for actually learning about the complexities of your own. And this leading quickly on to a denigration of "how we were taught foreign languages in school", which, as everyone knows, is basically an excuse for the absolutely minute attention span any of us possessed before we reached our maturity (or pretended to reach it). | |
| The next port of call is the Sugimoto-dera temple, allegedly the oldest in Kamakura, dating back to 734AD, although you can bet that the wiley Japanese have rebuilt it about four hundred times since then to make sure it stays in top condition. Something that hadn't been rebuilt since the beginning of recorded history where the extra-steep stone steps leading up to the temple itself, not that you were actually allowed to walk on this dilapadated but sanctified rocky stairway, flanked as it was by twin red demons; demons that are of course very interesting and exciting when you see them the first time, but after the ninth or tenth time (quite a few places have them) they become just part of the general scenery. Okay, okay, so I'm becoming jaded and cynical, but the NEXT temple was actually pretty funky. |  | |
| Continuing to criss-cross back and forth across the prescribed trail, Sam & Jon come to the entrance of another Japanese religious institution; will they have lunch? Will they see just one more temple? They catch sight of a sign advertising this latest (Hokoku-ji) shrine that declares the presence of a "Bamboo groove". A bamboo groove? Yep, there was no way that this pair could pass over the chance of getting into a real groove. And pretty groovy it was too, the raked gravel of the Zen garden offsetting the dappled light and shadow that filled the real bamboo "grove". Sam & Jon settled themselves on a veranda overlooking the small waterfall the cascaded down just to the side of the bamboo trees, while helpful Japanese ladies in full ceremonial garb prepared for them a tea so green that the surrounding plant life became viridescent with envy. | |
| The small sweets that accompany the tea are not really substantial enough to satiate the growing hunger of the two young men, and so they push on; seeking the fabled Zen restaurant that has been alleged to reside very near to the bamboo groove. And find it they do, a real Zen restaurant, a place where one can receive spiritual cleansing and nutritional sustenance at the same time. Sam is somewhat unsure about what a Zen meal will actually consist of, like, Zen is all about achieving sartori and inner harmony and stuff, and not much about cooking. The particularly worrying thing is that perhaps the process of having lunch in a Zen restaurant will be akin to solving a Zen riddle (or koan), such as "What is the sound of one hand clapping?" (response: slap questioner in face). Will one be forced to re-enact a Zen story itself? |  | |
 | For example, many Zen riddles are of the form: Student: How may I achieve enlightenment? Master: Have you eaten your rice? Student: Yes? Master: Then you must wash your bowl. At this point the student achieves enlightenment, and the travellers think that maybe the Zen restaurant is on to a good thing since at least they won't have to employ any cleaning staff.
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| Of course there is always the other koan about the student realising that the rock in the zen garden is in fact inside his head, and the Master who replies that he must have a very big head. So perhaps the meal will involve coming to the enlightened relaisation that the food is already in our bellies. Anyway the menus are all in Japanese, and therefore completely indecipherable. There only seem to be three dishes, so trying to get into the spirit of things, Sam asks for "zenbu" (which means "all" in Japanese), and the waitresses seem to find this very amusing and soon there begins a procession of trays from the enterior of the Zen kitchen to the travellers' table. The meal itself consists of any number of elaboratly arranged bits of vegatable and tofu and leafy things and, ... well, it just looks exquisite. |  | |
| However the trays are mounting and mounting, and soon there is not much room left on the table. As Sam and Jon chow down on this harmonious assortment of numinously prepared vegetables, helping as they are their souls of these plants to move from this life to the next, the young British become increasingly worried by the sight of additional trays being prepared in the background. No less than ten other full meals seem to be being prepared to one side, and perhaps this is yet some part of the greater cosmic mystery that Sam & Jon will have to solve before they can stop eating all the Zen food. "Just exactly how much is all of this going to cost" Wonders Sam. "Can I perhaps pay with an appropriate riddle about how possessing money only serves to make the illusion of poverty a reality". | |
| Fortunately for the spiritual wellbeing of the travellers, all the extra food is in fact for another party of guests. The other party seems to be a large group of Japanese and a single westerner. It seems like the Japanese had thought to bring their gaijin colleague to an exclusive/authentic Japanese dining experience. Their intentions may have been spoiled somewhat by the fact that two sweaty backpackers had arrived first, scoffing away in a manner not entirely unreminiscient of a fast-food restaurant. Anyway, the pair finally emerge into the bright afternoon sunlight, auras intact and harmoniously realigned. Refreshingly karmic though the Zen meal was, the two proceed to search out the even greater religious experience of almond & vanilla Haagen Dasz ice cream bars, which are of course a foodstuff that truly maps out the path to the buddha nature. | 
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| The Haagen Dasz (okay, so that's probably not the right spelling, but if you know the right spelling and have *way* too much free time you can always email it to me) is digested along with further sections of the trail that leads out of Kamakura and into the countryside. The elegant Japanese houses fall away, and soon Jon & Sam find themselves walking along twisted tracks flanked by gently swaying trees and bushes. The tracks are rather churned up and in places look suspiciously like a river bed. As the path splits, the way that travels more steeply upwards has far too many rivulets running down it for comfort. There is also, of course, some confusion about exactly which way they are supposed to be going, but consultation with a number of other Japanese hikers reveals the desired path. | |
| Sam in pleased that he has been able to achieve these notable communication events, and Jon complements him that the interacations could indeed have been modelled by discourse theory, although modesty forces Sam to admit that they would have to have been rather fuzzy models. [Apologies to non-cognitive scientists for that last joke (yes it was a joke), hell I can't make this diary accessible to everybody at once; if you felt left out my the references to discourse theory, then just think how lucky you are that you didn't have to study the subject in the first place.] Anyway, questions of narrative style and accessibility to one side, the travellers do indeed come to the most beautiful temple they have seen (on that day at any rate). An almost completely secluded couple of buildings, nestled in amongst the trees and ferns. |  | |
| The woodland temple really does look like something out of Indiana Jones, and Sam keeps on expecting the stone idols to turn and reveal secret passageways, or shoot out blowdarts, or other exciting things. Unfortunately (for Sam's overactive imagination), this is in fact a remarkably peacful spot, and the travellers do rest here, taking in the soothing stillness of the forest away from the sounds of any urban activities. The trail proceeds onwards through one of the seven gorges that pierce the mountains surrounding Kamakura on three sides (it's the ocean on the other side). The presence of these defiles (or the seven mouths, as they were called) were what made Kamakura such a powerful place after the turn of the last millenium. By placing defenders at each of these passes through the surrounding mountians, the city could be easily defended from overland attack. | |
| In the absence of any medieval Japanese warriors to prevent their easy passage through the narrow gorge, the pair continue on and further away from Kamakura, eventually coming to a highway and a bus stop that will take them back to Kamakura station (okay, okay, so the bus will take them back, not the bus-stop; bit pedantic today aren't we?). The bus soon arrives to find Jon & Sam having wandered off a bit in search of some food, so the travellers are forced to dash back to the bus stop in order to avoid a further hours wait. As the bus wends its way back into Kamakura it passes huge crowds of day-trippers coming back from visiting the giant (68 foot) buddha, and it seems like the young British had in fact been saved from a rather unpleasantly oversocial experience by taking the back streets, rather than the main highways, and for this the guidebook is to be thanked. |  | |
| The day's hiking started early and now finishes before 3pm giving the travellers ample opportunity to get back to Kawasaki, and further explore the computer arcades they had discovered on the previous day. They put the odd coin or twenty into Teraburst, just to make sure that they haven't become too enlightened by the experiences of the day. And what's more they manage to defeat the level two baddy (terrifyingly named "The tower") that had given them so much trouble last time around, so it was definitely money well spent. ... What? ... Oh yeah, and the trip to Kamakura was pretty good too. | |
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