Exploring the spirituality, tradition and tastes of Japan
Reviews and recommendations are unbiased and products are independently selected. Postmedia may earn an affiliate commission from purchases made through links on this page.
By Adam Waxman
Recommended Videos
Tokyo is a flywheel. Its spokes lead in all directions. No sooner do I arrive and bounce like a pachinko ball through its cosmic maze, do I fly out to the countryside for spiritual purification.
The ancient Kaga region in Ishikawa Prefecture on the Japan Sea side is home to lush mountains and valleys, a bounty of seafood, delicate grains of rice that look like perfectly polished pearls, and sake that imbues the pristine quality of its source. Dinner at Yamashiro Onsen is like a parade of jewellery. Whole sea bream steamed with daikon, carrot and bamboo; thickly cut sashimi of yellow tail, Spanish mackerel and sweet shrimp; and a delectable presentation of yellow tail wrapped in daikon, local potato in seasoned kelp, sea bream in egg yolk, pink mountain-potato cake, and a ceramic lemon, inside which holds a treasure of sea cucumber, tofu skin and roe.
Following dinner, I walk barefoot through the snow to a steaming outdoor foot bath, where I sip hōjicha, green tea roasted over charcoal, and slowly, contemplatively, make my way to the onsen where, disrobing my yukata, I luxuriate in piping hot mineral water. Each breath of clean mountain air invigorates my soul in tandem with the warmth of the hot spring that kneads out the tension. Leaning against a rock, I pack a mound of snow, set it on my head, and let it melt over me as I stretch out, stare up at the stars and sink.
I remove my slippers and slide across the tatami floor, nestling on a zazen pillow to comfortably meditate under the auspice of the monk assigned to me. He explains how to sit, how to fold my hands, how to breathe, and how to indicate that I want him to whip me with a stick if I fall out of focus. With eyes closed, I breathe deeply. It’s no use. My mind races unabated. I bow slightly. Whack! My young monk eagerly relishes the opportunity to shock me out of my distraction with a sting just above my shoulder. Feeling somewhat centred I walk back down the mountain and meditate to the sound of the rolling creek cleaved through the snow banks.
There is a palpable fountain-of-youth energy in which my every step, up ancient stone stairs into the woods, transforms me from my achy sedentary self of today to the spritely nature of my twenties. It’s a rejuvenating hike that includes climbing the seemingly endless steps up to the Seigando-ji Temple. After I’ve caught my breath, I survey a majestic panorama, and smell the sweet aroma from monks lighting incense to purify the surroundings and bring forth the Gods.
One requisite stop before departing the Kii Peninsula is the tuna market at the port of Katsuura, where freshly caught tuna is hauled off the boat, and prepared before our very eyes as sashimi, sushi, breaded cutlet and grilled cheeks. There is no way I’m leaving here without indulging in each one. The fatty tuna is tender and unctuous, and the tuna cheeks are as buttery as they are meaty. It’s a very special taste of place—to sit on the dock, savouring the freshest local catch with the sun sparkling off the bay, the waves gently lapping the shore; losing all sense of where I am or what time it is, but just appreciating being deeply present in this moment.
The road leading up to Todai-ji is so perfectly manicured. Ground-keepers collect leaves and sweep the dirt. It reminds me of what the monk at Daihonzan Eiheiji shared: “The most important thing is not za zen. It is cleaning; humbling oneself.”
Todai-ji’s main hall is awe-inspiring. It is the largest wooden structure in the world, and it houses, Daibutsu, the largest Buddha in the world, made of bronze and seated on large bronze petals. Dating back to the 8th Century, this complex of temples and shrines that meander up the mountainside offers a quintessentially Japanese experience in so far as the daily maintenance reflects the daily reverence to the roots of Japan.
For one thousand years, Kyoto stood as Japan’s capital and home to so many cultural arts. One vestige of traditional culture, a rare privilege to enjoy, is dining with Geisha. As I’m enjoying each morsel of sashimi, presented so artfully from the ceramics to the decorative arrangement of ingredients, two Geisha enter the room. Tomitae-san, the Geiko, sings and plays shamisen guitar, while Hidechio-san, her Maiko apprentice, dances in traditional fashion. I’m captivated. The next courses of steamed, soy-lacquered sea bream with fluffy light potato encrusted in a rice cracker crunch, and tender Kyoto beef with an umami-rich jus, mountain vegetables and crisp garlic, arrive in succession. I ask the Geisha about their lifestyle, costume and make up, and about Japanese culture. But now, I’m told, it’s time for a game: Konpira Fune Fune.
Seated opposite Hidechio-san, Tomitae-san plays her guitar at an ever-quickening tempo, during which time Hidechio-san and I alternate clapping our hands and touching a box on the table with quickening tempo corresponding to the music. If Hidechio-san picks up the box, and I still put my flat hand down where the box once stood, rather than a closed hand, I lose, and vice versa. It seems easy enough, right? And yet, after a few shots of sake, not so much. I lose every time, but it is hilariously fun and addictive.
Visiting Japan, however ancient the destination, always reveals something new. It’s not merely a feast for the senses, but a restorative reawakening of them. From the spiritual landscape to the gastronomy, there is so much to appreciate, so many little details that add up to time well spent, with each new day offering a completely different rewarding experience to cherish.