Japan in 2011
I had never voyaged overseas alone before my trip to Japan. So when the chance came for me in the summer of 2011, I seized it like a sailor desperately holding onto flotsam in the middle of the ocean. Did I overdo it? Did I hold onto this occasion too tightly? Did I lose sight of the point of going to foreign places?
I spent three days in Kyoto in a frenzied blur. Temples and gardens. Temples and gardens. At Fushimi Inari-taisha, I fell through a tunnel of red torii. Its sacredness was being spoken in shapes and colours I had never observed before. I took so many pictures at that shrine. Yet looking back, this is the only photo I like.
At the Temple of the Golden Pavilion (Kinkaku-ji), I marvelled at the gold leaf structure installed in a beautifully sculpted garden. This was a ‘strolling garden’, formed through zen typology and wrapped in purposeful harmony around the pavilion. I wish I had lingered and understood its meaning. But I had an itinerary to stick to, so I snapped my requisite photos and raced on my merry way.
Near the base of the Tokyo Tower, I stumbled across these rows upon rows of baby-faced stone statues. How strange! How quaint! How cute! I thought.
I later learnt that these statues represented Jizo, a Buddhist protector of young children. It is believed that when a child passes (including as a result of miscarriage), they enter purgatory as punishment for the grief their death inflicts on their parents. The child’s small, naked soul would be trapped in limbo forever were it not for Jizo, who arrives to save them and carry them off to their next reincarnation. I like this story, sad as it is.
The Hiroshima Peace Memorial. It is the skeleton of the building closest to the hypocentre of the first nuclear attack on Japan that remained partially standing after detonation. I wander the large memorial park, sighing as I soak in the beautiful summer rays. It was on a day like this that the atomic bomb was dropped here. Truth be told, I really only decided to visit Hiroshima on a whim. But I’m glad I did.
On one of my final days in Japan, I visited Hakone and relaxed in its damp and overcast woods. At this point, over a month had passed and I was ready to return home. Little did I know, I had already lost the heart of someone I treasured deeply back in Australia.
These days, I want to learn how to travel slower and more mindfully, taking the time to tuck away my camera and listen to what my surroundings have to teach me. I hope this is a skill I can master one day.