Update: i'm staying at the Uno House, a gaijin (foreigner) ryokan (inn). We each get a space on the floor of a tatami-matted room. I love these mats, they're so comfy and elegant. The shower has great pressure and great hot and cold water, but uncontrollably oscillates between the two extremes. The occupants are very multinational. There was 1 american, an israeli (she is travelling and working for 5 years at which point she gets the perks of a new israeli citizen (1/2 price house...)), an argentinan, a dual-citizen from spain & france, a swede, an australian, and two francais.
Kyoto is a far smaller city than tokyo, much homier. Tons of temples and shrines nestled next to gas stations, plus an imperial palace or two. I will seek more temples today, and also explore the local handicrafts.
it turns out that the handicrafts center is a 7-story corporate instituitionalization of traditional arts. Very nice stuff, but mass produced by artist/laborers. I'll pass. the japanese are the mtv not of time but of space.
I filled my water bottle from shrine fountains. It gives me a rather holy feeling when i drink, rather like enlightenment. Maybe i can export it. I did get to see some important enfeebled buddhist monk honcho: he was driven up to a photo op with a cluster of chanting monks, was walked, dressed & decorated in orange and gold, pictured, and returned to his vehicle. If that's nirvana, I'll stay out, thanks.
I footbagged for about an hour at the base of a 20 meter japanese temple gate. A little remedial and shoe adjustment. Consecutive: 20 toe stalls, 40 kicks, and 6 inside stalls (hardest-took 45 minutes, and I was about to give up, and that thought was NOT lightly considered). At several points I had audiences, so for a better show I switched to tricks. Most failed, alas. Actually I received most applause when diving for consecutive kicks-most dramatic. When people watch, it does escalate my will to perform-I want to give them the enjoyment of a good show.
Now in the youth hostel of Hiroshima, I think it ironic how americans bombed the city and then visited the destructo zone as a tourist attraction. I try to imagine the reality of the survivors' paintings, but I see only the bubbling shopping arcade and neon lights. It's good that they made a comeback. Inevitable. Is it a testament to the strength or forgetfulness of humanity? Perhaps they are one and the same quality....
Food for thought. Lovingly,
-xaq