Boxes of Light

Kyoto is a set of beautiful boxes made from glass and wood and light, floating four or five high in neat streets , with tiny pines perfectly pruned peeking up in front of and on top of buildings, all nestled between Buddhist temples set against the foot of a hillside that slopes up and is covered completely in Japanese maple.  I love this place.  I loved it especially after Mongolia--here again is order and cleanliness and efficiency, people and traffic that flows and the rule of law, fashion and lights and taxis and police.  There are many things to be said about capitalism, but one seldom remarked on (at least in the realm of political science) is its superiority in producing aesthetically beautiful buildings.  Not that Russia and Mongolia are without their architectural wonders, but the cities in Japan, the U.S., and London are more beautiful, more innovative, more inviting and thoroughly concieved than their clunky, cold, cracking concrete counterparts in the former Soviet bloc.

We are staying at the Hiragiya Ryokan.  A Ryokan is a guest house--the one we:re at is 200 years old--steeped in Japanese tradition.  The walkway in is wetted as a sign of welcome; you shoes must be taken off and exchanged for leather slippers at the door; you take your breakfast and dinner in your room; sleeping mats are laid down for you in the evening; you shower and then soak in ceader tubs filled with water so hot you can barely take it.  The gardens are small but perfect--every plant perfectly tended to.  The rooms are strikingly elegant--all wood and paper, perfectly sanded, with perfect joints at every corner.  And the toilets come with about twenty buttons--heated seats, three kinds of water sprays to wash yourself if you aren:t feeling too western, a drier to dry that water, pressure settings and so on.

During the eel season

The meals are art.  The first night we had Kaisekii--haute couture courses that looked like art but that can be hard to stomach if you:re not used to it. Consider: we had twelve courses, including fermented belly of sea cucumber in hot egg custard, and jelly of eel.  In fact, eel is in season--it tastes like chicken plus brine and the meat is flaky, like fish--but the five courses it came in was a bit much for all of us...the next night was shabu shabu...alright, much more to our liking--you take thin slices of finely marbled beef and cook it in a hotpot with mushrooms and vegetables and then eat it with either ponzu (soy sauce and citrus) or a sesame-miso sauce.  Fantastic. Tempura was also good.  And so was sushi. In fact, I am stuffed. This place gives us about ten courses every dinner, and it's all very new and tasty and artistic...and surprisingly filling.

Japan is wickedly expensive--a t-shirt that would be $20 in the States costs $70--and so I:m still trying to figure out how the Japanese mantain such a high savings rate and indulge in clothing so much.  It:s normal for men to carry purses here, and to have long blonde-orange hair and tight jeans with all sorts of rips.  Fun people watching, in a beautiful city.  I:d say visit, emphatically.  If you do come, don't miss the Zen temples, hidden away from busy streets brilliantly, every tree propped by bamboo, every plant cut to minature detail, Zen gardens thousands of years old sitting in complete calm--rocks on rocks for careful contemplation while you sit barefoot on well-worn wooden walkways.  Bamboo fountains to wash your hands in, reflecting ponds filled with Koi, incense and Buddhism.  At night there are hundreds of lamps lit and hanging in soft, humid air, and there are rivers and bridges throughout the city.  It's truly, truly beautiful.

The beer here is very good--I like Asahi draft though Kirin is also good.  They're both light and underwhelming when bottled in the States, in my opinion, but on tap and with sushi they are perfect.  We also drink a lot of cold sake, which goes elegantly with Japanese dinners. And Yebitsu (sp?) is a very good dark beer.