Sabbatikos

We woke to a gray Kyoto and Kamo River framed outside our window. We headed downstairs for a traditional Japanese breakfast at Genji Lounge. Genji Kyoto itself is listed in the Michelin Guide, which specifically calls out the attention given to its food, and breakfast certainly lived up to it. Beautifully arranged, delicate, and absolutely delicious, it would become my staple all week. Properly filled with food and coffee, we headed out into the rain for one of Kyoto’s great landmarks, Kiyomizu-dera. 

Kiyomizu-dera was founded in nearly 1,250 years ago in 778, and is part of UNESCO’s Historic Monuments of Ancient Kyoto World Heritage site. Kyoto’s official tourism organization calls it perhaps the city’s most popular temple, which seems entirely plausible given the crowds. Perched halfway up Mount Otowa, its great wooden stage hangs over the hillside on enormous timber supports, opening onto sweeping views across Kyoto. We had been here before, almost two decades earlier, when Clara was just six years old, so this was one of those places where the geography remained familiar even though we may had changed. 

One thing Clara remembered, was Otowa Waterfall beneath the Main Hall. The water emerges in three streams that are associated with longevity or health, success in school, and good fortune in love. When there you can use long handled metal ladles (which are returned to an ultraviolet sterilizer after use) to catch and drink the water. When six year old Clara had been presented with the three great priorities of human existence, health, education, and love, she had chosen love. All these years later, we were curious to see whether her priorities had changed. 

The rain was still fairly light as we climbed towards the temple, and because we had arrived early, the crowds were not yet overwhelming. Before entering the Main Hall, Ian decided to test himself against the so called Benkei challenge. Near the entrance are two enormous iron staffs and a pair of iron geta traditionally associated with the legendary warrior monk Benkei. The smaller staff weighs around 14 kilos (~31 lbs), the iron geta around 12 kg (~26 lbs), and the massive staff at more than 90 kg (~199 lbs!). Ian managed the first two. The third didn’t budget. He gave up and the next in line gave it a shot.

About then, the skies opened and water began pouring down on us. Conveniently, we spotted a small workshop nearby where you could carve your own chopsticks from different Japanese woods. This seemed fun and an excuse to get out of the rain. We each selected our wood and were handed traditional carving tools, then began shaving the square pieces down, rotating them through all four sides and slowly tapering them toward a point. It looked easy. It was not. Tawny and I had chosen a particularly hard wood. But we divided the labor appropriately. Tawny made the right chopstick. I’m left handed, so naturally I made the left chopstick. Together we had one functioning pair. Clara and Ian each sensibly made complete pairs of their own from softer wood. Once the carving was finished, we sanded them smooth, dipped them in oil, and had our names etched into them in kanji. It was one of those unexpected rainy day travel experienced that became a spontaneous highlight.

We finished our chop sticks, but the rain hadn’t stopped. We surrendered to the weather and continued through Kiyomizu-dera anyway. From the Main Hall we followed the path toward the waterfalls, which provided a classic view back across the valley toward Kiyomizu’s massive wooden stage, and farther along toward the three story Koyasu Pagoda. Koyasu means safe childbirth, and the pagoda has long been associated with prayers for expectant mothers. Along the path we passed what, through sheets of rain, initially looked a bit like old graves. They were actually the Sentaishi Butsugun, a collection of stone Buddhist images, some with red bibs and hats on that represent the guardian of children. 

Finally we reached Otowa Waterfall and joined the queue beneath a forest of umbrellas. The last time Tawny and I had been here we had chosen health, our reasoning being that without your health it is considerably harder to enjoy love. And we had already finished our academics. Besides we were confident in the love department. This time Clara and Ian arrived at exactly the same conclusion. Love? Check. They’ve already got it. School? Check. They are done with that. Health seemed like the smart long game. One after another we grabbed a long ladle, caught the water, and drank. Considering how thoroughly soaked all four of us already were, a little sacred water for health probably wouldn’t hurt.

From there we began the descent down Kiyomizu-zaka, the shopping street running away from the temple. By now the quiet early morning had vanished. Hordes of visitors were climbing toward us while we tried to swim our way down through umbrella gridlock. We ducked into shops partly to browse and partly to avoid losing an eye, including a Studio Ghibli store overflowing with Totoros, soot sprites, and plush Calcifers. It was enough concentrated cuteness to temporarily distract us from how wet we were.

By then it was lunchtime and we were hungry and ready to sit somewhere dry, which led us to Kiyomizu Junsei Okabeya, a tofu restaurant just off the busy walking street. I remembered having an extraordinary tofu meal in this area on our previous trip, maybe the same place. Kyoto tofu had remained lodged in my culinary memory ever since. There is science behind Kyoto’s famous tofu. Researchers have estimated that the Kyoto Basin holds around 21.1 billion cubic meters of very pure groundwater. More importantly for lunch, Kyoto’s pure groundwater is soft and low in iron, qualities long prized for tofu making. Tofu itself is roughly 80 to 85 percent water, so when your principal ingredients are soybeans and water, the water matters.

We opted for something called otemae tofu, and the opportunity to make our own tofu at the table. A pot of fresh soy milk was placed over the burner and Clara took responsibility for the hard labor, stirring it steadily as it heated. After several minutes we added nigari, the traditional coagulant used in Japanese tofu making, and then left it alone for another few minutes. Slowly, almost magically, the liquid soy milk transformed into warm, freshly set and delicious tofu right in front of us. Clara and I went all in on tofu while Tawny and Ian took a different approach to Kyoto cuisine and grilled slices of Wagyu at the table. We all declared victory. 

Fed, somewhat drier, and having eaten enough tofu to qualify as honorary soybeans, we headed toward Teramachi to explore more of the shopping arcades and meet our friend Kylis from Seattle. Kylis had been living in Japan for the past three years, teaching English to grade school students in a town near Kyoto, so we settled in over coffee and caught up on her adventures. There was something wonderful about hearing about Japan from someone who was living here.

We asked her an ice breaker, her rose and thorn of living in Japan. The rose was almost impossible for her to narrow down because, in essence, the rose was Japan itself. The scenery. The history. The people. The food. The ability to hop on a punctual train and explore another extraordinary corner of the country. The thorn was easy: the heat and humidity. On that point, we had no argument. Even in the rain, Kyoto had been hot and sticky.

Kylis then became our local guide for a series of increasingly specific errands. We searched for an elusive Seiko watch that one of Clara’s colleagues had requested, without success. We also went hunting for a Japanese language edition of The Hunger Games. Clara has built a collection of editions of the book in different languages from countries she visits, her international bookstore scavenger hunt. Japan proved elusive.

Eventually Kylis led us to an excellent katsu and curry restaurant Niigata Katsudon Tarekatsu for dinner, a combination that was rapidly becoming a family favorite. Crisp pork cutlet, brown Japanese curry, rice, a Japanese beer on draft. It was delicious. After dinner we said goodbye to Kylis and began the walk back toward Genji Kyoto, the rain finally letting up. Despite the rain, it was a glorious day and we all felt like we had secured our not only our health, but a pair of personalized chopsticks to boot.