Kinkakuji

I woke up and checked my email, finding a message from Ju with about ten recommended stops in Kyoto. I gave each one a brief read on Wikipedia and quickly realized I didn't have nearly enough time to see them all. I jotted down the names of three of them, mostly at random: Kinkakuji, Gion, and Arashiyama. I went ahead and packed in case the room wasn't available for a second night. (I completely forgot to ask about it last night.) Luckily, it was, so I set out for adventure significantly less laden with stuff.

First, I retraced my steps to the station. Among other things, I wanted to see what that big temple complex had been. It turned out to be Higashi-Honganji, the main temple of the eastern sect of Shin, a school of Pure Land Buddhism. I knew none of this at the time, and it was swarming with people, so I was content just admiring it from across the street.

Arriving at the station, I saw Kyoto Tower again, which I decided looks better at night. The station was packed with tourists. I made my way to the bus information center and found out which bus to take for Kinkakuji. The line was a couple of hundred deep, but buses were running through about every five minutes, so I quickly got on one.

The ride to Kinkaku-ji took about twenty minutes. On the bus, I was packed in with lots of foreigners, only a few of whom were speaking English. As we approached the temple stop, I noticed one mountain in particular that had a distinctive bare spot. The spot formed the character for "big," but I didn't have the slightest idea why it had been carved into the mountain. After reading up on it, I think it's the remnant of the Daimonji bonfire from Kyoto's Obon festival in August.

The entrance to the temple was packed with people. It was a gorgeous day, and maple trees were everywhere, so I could fully understand why everyone was there. Admission was a few hundred yen--a few dollars--and I made my through the temple grounds. After passing a few concession stands, I rounded a corner and saw the Golden Pavilion itself.

It was every bit as breathtaking as I'd heard. The top two stories, covered in gold leaf, contrasted beautifully with the blue sky, white clouds, and red maples. The figure at the top is a Fenghuang, a mythological bird. The shallow pond that nearly surrounds the pavilion was perfectly smooth, making for a gorgeous reflection.

Several tourists were asking strangers to take their picture. After I took someone's picture, I asked them to return the favor, not having fully realized until then that particular drawback of traveling solo: nobody to take pictures of you. The picture didn't turn out great, anyway; the sky was just a little too brilliant, and messed up the contrast.

I made my way through the temple grounds, observing the maples and the tourists. The sight of so many non-Japanese was still surprising to me, considering how insulated from foreigners most of Japan still is.

Satisfied that I'd seen enough, I strolled out of the temple complex and thought about what to do next. Unable to decide how best to get to my other destinations, I hopped on the next bus that stopped.