Rokuroshi Heights ski ground near Ono in Fukui.

The Slippery Slope to Coolness

I suddenly realised this morning that I spent the whole weekend partying and snowboarding. My life has become a Pepsi commercial without me even realising it. I guess it's just one of those things you don't notice is happening until it's happened; like returning home one day and realising that you're wearing the same clothes as your dad. Only in this case it's kind of the reverse - one moment I'm happily minding my own business, looking forward to the next crossword in the morning newspaper, and the next thing I know I'm shredding powder, grabbing air, and getting all up in yo' face. If I'm not careful I'll be rollerblading next, which is hardly the occupation of an English gentleman. 

 

At the same time I like to feel that I'm maintaining the "spirited amateur" ethos of the British by being Not Very Good at most sports. In this way I can maintain a keen interest in snowboarding without the handicap of actually knowing what I'm doing most of the time. This allows me to don the mantle of "snowboarder" in the same way that one might casually throw on a loose-fitting cravat, or top off a three-piece suit with a jauntily-angled hat. Conversely, in order to cement my amateur status amongst other "boarders" I like to dress as badly as I possibly can whilst on the slopes, clad head to toe in sensibly-priced, second-hand garments, in a variety of awful colours.

 

Having said all that, I did drink a Pepsi when I was out snowboarding on Saturday. In my defence, it was given to me free of charge as part of a promotion, but that's the way they suck you in, like drug dealers giving you the first wrap of heroin for free. Before you know it I'll be quaffing Pepsi by the crate full, whilst nameless Swedish bikini models accompany me for paragliding weekends on my speedboat. Or something. It's a slippery slope I tells ya.

 

On a separate note, happy birthday to Dan, Mitsuko and Flick, and thanks to everyone who attended for the hilarity of Saturday night. Much kudos goes to Dan for randomly turning up to the bar dressed as a beer. Good work fella.

I contemplate some mountains at Shiramine in Ishikawa prefecture. "Hmmm... mountains," I think. "Very nice," I elaborate.

Flick shreds some powder. You go girl.

Flick flicks some Vs during a brief burst of sun at Shiramine.

Sunset at Rokuroshi.

Rob attempts to "drink" Dan in possibly the most bizarre moment of the weekend. Rob maintains that Dan was inviting to be drunk due to his provocative outfit. Dan's lawyers maintain that their client's style of dress should not act as a "green light for abuse". The case continues.

Detail from the dry garden at Ryoanji.

Rediscovering Japan

It was Flick's birthday on Monday - the perfect excuse to take a holiday.

 

We were originally planning to go snowboarding in Hokkaido, so we booked the Monday and Tuesday off in preparation, but in the end the cheap flights we were hoping to get sold out before we could get our mittens on them. Time for Plan B - a long weekend in Kyoto.

 

Despite living only a two hour train journey away from Kyoto, I've so far managed to somehow avoid visiting it. Well, that isn't strictly true I suppose; I did go on a school trip there in 2004, but since the whole visit lasted just three hours and the coach journey there and back took six hours I don't really count it as a proper "visit" - it was more like drive-by tourism. Then in August I went there again with my family, but because of some unfortunate confusion with local train times, we only ended up having time to visit one temple - Kiyomizudera.

 

This time though, things were different - we had a whole three days at our disposal for some hardcore tourism, and boy did we make the most of it. I could bang on for ages about all the places we visited in Kyoto, but I'll spare you the details and instead talk about the one place that stands out above the others: the rock garden at Ryoanji.

 

In a way, seeing the garden was a bit like rediscovering Japan. For a long time now, my life in Japan has become more about my daily grind at work than about discovering Japanese culture, and I think it's the same for most people who live here for a long time. The extraordinary gives way to the ordinary, and although I'm still often surprised by things that happen in everyday life, the little quirks no longer have the impact that they did when I first got here. I guess this is what they call "becoming acclimatised".

 

The rock garden definitely made an impression on me though. It reminded me about the other side of Japanese culture; the ancient, traditional Japanese culture which doesn't involve heated toilet seats or neon love hotels. The rock garden was something from Japan's past, something based on the concept of Zen rather than Hello Kitty. A garden which is over 500 years old, but which looks bizarrely modern.

 

Fifteen rocks, surrounded by gravel. That's all it is. But the longer you contemplate it, the more you begin to see: the patterns in the raked gravel, the differing colours of the rocks, the subtle striations on their surface. The garden is more like a tool for focusing the mind than a decoration.

 

That is, it would be if it wasn't for The Woman. The Unspeakable American Woman. The Woman who seemed completely unable to read in her head, and so insisted on reading all the English signs she came across in a very loud voice for no reason whatsoever. The Woman who decided it would be a good idea to count how many rocks there are in the garden again and again and again and again. Out loud. As if the garden were in fact some kind of Sesame Street numbers game rather than a place for meditation. The Woman whose voice just seemed to keep following us around no matter how hard we tried to escape from her. Oh, damn you Woman. For shame, for shame.

 

Still, in the brief pauses when The Woman wasn't shrieking about something or other it was a very tranquil and thought-provoking experience. Although of course most of the thoughts which came to mind belonged firmly in the "I think I'm going to murder that American woman" category.

 

Anyway, I'd highly recommend a trip to Ryouanji if you plan to go to Kyoto - you can read more about it here. Just don't forget to bring earplugs.

Kinkakuji (Temple of the Golden Pavilion), arguably Kyoto's most famous landmark.

Ryoanji (Temple of the Peaceful Dragon) is home to a celebrated "masterpiece of Japanese culture: a dry garden featuring 15 rocks seemingly adrift in a "sea" of raked gravel. Here you can see three of the rocks.

The snow began falling when we visited Ginkakuji (Temple of the Silver Pavilion), which is home to another dry garden. This one has a curious cone-shaped structure which is known as Kogetsudai (Moon viewing platform). Some people think it's meant to represent Mount Fuji.

The lake at Ryoanji.

Two of the evil deer which plague Nara.

The impressively huge Nandaimon (Great Southern Gate) at Todaiji in Nara.

The Daibutsuden (Great Buddha Hall) at Todaiji, which is the world's largest wooden building. You can just about make out people standing on the steps.

Flick in the Daibutsuden.

Kasuga shrine is famous for the hundreds of stone lanterns which have been donated by worshippers.

Flick pedals past the 50.1 metre tall five-storey pagoda at Kofukuji.

Unfortunately, this is what the rest of Nara looks like - a hideous sprawl of seriously ugly offices and shops which look like they've been knocked together over the weekend for a quick buck. Kind of the equivalent of building a Kwik Save next to Buckingham Palace.