DAY 13

Monday 10th May

Kyoto

We set out from the Ryokan at 9:00 a.m. to begin a full day of local exploration. Kyoto is renowned as having some of the oldest and most precious of Japan's historical sights. Our first stop is the Sanju-sangen-do Hall, on the far eastern side of Kyoto.

'Sanju-sangen-do' means, in essence, 'A hall with thirty-three spaces between columns.' We leave our shoes in the front entrance and pad softly into the 120- metre long main hall. The scene that meets our eyes is truly breathtaking. Filling the hall are 1,000 life-size statues of Kannon, and a central twice- life-size figure, each with 40 arms. Why 40? Well, Kannon is meant to have 1,000 arms, each to save a thousand lives/worlds. But obviously the craftsmen only had so much of their lives to spare, and so by a neat bit of mathematical trickery, the number was reduced to 40 arms, each saving 25 lives. Why they didn't reduce further, to two arms saving 500 lives, I'll never know. I assume they liked a challenge (had to do more than two) but were not complete masochists (had to do less than 1,000). The hall was spectacular, almost too much detail for the eye to fully comprehend. A familiar sound begins to emanate from the far end of the hall. There we were, minding our own business, when suddenly we are confronted by a gang of schoolgirls again (I swear this is coincidence; we didn't go looking for them). We exchange cheery 'hellos', and then stand around looking confused as the girls wait expectantly for us to say something profound. Eventually, with nothing much forthcoming, they lose interest and skip off down the hall. Well, we can't be entertainers ALL the time.

From there we trekked through a cemetery the likes of which I'd never seen before. Up the side of a hill wound terrace upon terrace of graveyards, each one containing thousands upon thousands of upright gravestones. There was barely any room between them. It appears that even the dead are not spared the processes of efficiency- though it is understandable that a country with so little land to spare should make use of whatever room it can find.

Above the cemetery lies Kiyomizu Temple. 'Kiyo-Mizu' translates as 'clear- water', a reference to the well around which the temple was built. The temple spans a wooded gorge, and the main viewing platform offered spectacular sights over thousands of treetops. The ubiquitous packs of school kids roam the temple complex and mooch around the souvenir shops. Walking down a stone staircase towards the well, Paul notices something odd:

'Look, they're taking photos of us.'
'What?'

He indicates towards a gaggle of girls standing near the foot of the stairs- I catch sight of a flash going off- and sure enough, our images are once again immortalised in someone's photo album somewhere in Japan. I'm not sure whether to be amused or freaked out. I decide to assume that they wanted pictures of the staircase that we happened to be obscuring. Yes, that must be it.

The wooden platform above the well was stuffed with visitors, taking it in turns to use long-handled ladles to collect water from three overhead waterfalls. The water of the temple is reputed to cure all illness. Good for the temple's business. Bad for Kyoto's pharmaceutical business.

Leaving the temple, we walk down ancient cobbled streets, one of the oldest areas of Kyoto. The Sannen-zaka (three-year road) and Ninen-zaka (two-year road) are picturesque and quaint, and it is rumoured that Geisha girls still frequent the area. Shame, but we didn't see any- it was too early in the day. Under an almighty downpour of almost Biblical proportions, we check out the Daisho-ro, the biggest bell in Japan, and enter the nearby Chionin Temple. Doing as everyone else did, we removed our shoes, left them at the bottom of the stairs and took shelter under the temple eaves. Rain streamed in torrential gushes from the roof- it was almost like being stood behind a waterfall. Fortunately we had the opportunity to take a tour around the building, a fine way to escape from the rain. We stroll all the way around one side of the immense temple, over a covered walkway, along wooden passageways and around a few more corners before reaching the pay desk. Handing over our money, we amble into the building and spend five minutes admiring the corridors. A Japanese guide spots us and asks, in English:

'Your shoes?'
'Huh?'
'Need your shoes... carry in plastic bag.... put on at end of hall.'
'Oh.'

Paul and I exchange weary looks, and trot all the way back to the beginning to collect our shoes.

A walk around the gardens revealed them to be quite pretty (but wet). Deciding that the rain drumming on our hooded noggins was getting a bit too much to bear, we head back to the Ryokan for some lunch and a break from the weather. That three quarters of an hour spent indoors was the only time that it stopped raining all day. As soon as we stepped back out of the door, it began again.

Evening was drawing in, so we took a brief look around the grounds of Kyoto Imperial Palace- a disappointment if you want grandeur and spectacle, but amazing if you're turned on by walls. All the important stuff is hidden behind them. Imagine Buckingham Palace surrounded by the Berlin Wall and you're somewhere close. To be fair, the walls were nicely tiled and all that, but still...

We head back to the city streets to find a 'pub'. Now, 'pubs' don't really exist in Japan as far as I'm aware, which caused me no end of consternation, I can tell you. There are two main options open to you- either find a place that serves beer with food, and get your drinks that way- Yakitori (grilled chicken) joints are good for this purpose. Alternatively, you befriend some Japanese people who can help you enter a 'members only' drinking hole. A place where you have to be a 'member' probably isn't the kind of place you'd want to drink in anyway. So, to overcome this conundrum, we sought out a place that we spotted in a guide book- the English-style 'Pig & Whistle'.

The pub was a pretty good representation of the traditional English boozer, right down to the dartboards (electronic version also available), surly service, and dreadful threadbare upholstery. The main difference was the atmosphere- no sense of the danger you face when entering an obviously 'locals' pub in England. Main beers on tap were Sapporo and Kilkenny, at 800 Yen a pint (£4). Ouch. We get chatting to an Australian guy, Peter, whose niece was teaching English in Tokyo. He was taking a few days away to explore, as were we, and was bemused and baffled by many of the things he's experienced- as were we. Before we know it the time was 10:30 p.m., and regrettably (as licensing laws allowed for many more beers yet), we had to get moving sharpish to beat our 11:00 p.m. curfew. We get back with five minutes to spare- any later, and the doorstep would have been our bed for the night.