For three years I have seen the ads. For three years I have seen the pictures. For three years we have said, “We need to go to Nikko.” For three years folks have told us, “You need to go to Nikko.” Finally, after three years, this past weekend, we went to Nikko. I can assure you it will not take us three years to go back. I don’t know if Nikko is really Nippon or not, but I do know that it’s a little version of what I call heaven.
Nikko, in case you don’t know, has roughly three claims to fame: a Buddhist, a shogun, and three monkeys. OK, here you go, the quick and dirty history lesson: At some point in the mid-eighth century some dude named Shodo Shonin established a Buddhist training center just up the mountain from the town of Nikko. About 800 years later this same area was chosen as the burial spot for Tokugawa Ieyasu. What? Never heard of Tokugawa Ieyasu? Actually, you have. At some point in the late ‘70’s, more evidence that this decade should be struck from all historical record, James Clavell wrote a novel that became a miniseries in 1980 that starred Richard Chamberlain: Shogun. Chamerberlain plays witness to a fictionalized account of Tokugawa’s rise to power and his ultimate uniting of Japan, thus ushering in the Tokogawa Shogunate and the Edo period, which would last for roughly 200 years. See, told you you had heard of him. And then we have the monkeys. About twenty years after Tokugawa Ieyasu was buried in Nikko, his grandson decided to build a large lavishly decorated to the point of being gaudy shrine to honor his grandfather. It took about two years and around 15,000 workers, but he succeeded in creating something that while holding true to Japanese architecture at the time, is highly ornamental, and is more Chinese in style. Inside the gate of the main shrine, Tosho-gu, is a small stable. A band of wood carvings run around the stable, just above the doors, that depict monkeys in a variety of activities. These, along with other carvings on the surrounding buildings were created by the famous wood carver, Jingoro. One of the panels is the pictorial representation of the Buddhist maxim of “Hear no evil, Speak no evil, See no evil.” This is believed to be the earliest pictorial representation of this maxim using monkeys.
Nikko is located about two hours west of Tokyo. Our trip started in the town of Asakusa, home of the Senso-ji temple. Over by the river and up an escalator into the Tobu department store is the platform for an express train out to Nikko. This is an older station that gives you a sense of taking a step back in time. The two hour ride, in case you aren’t lulled into a nap by the rocking of the train, is rather interesting. Like any train ride in Tokyo, you see the buildings, and the roads, and the shops, and the people. And these sites stretch on and on. Along this track they eventually start to spread out. The buildings seem to shrink, the roads narrow, the apartment houses become houses, and the houses start to have yards and gardens. And then the most striking thing happens: the greens appear. There is the green of the small rice patties where the green has a light bluish tint from the reflection of the sky in the water, contrasted with the grassy darker green berms that separate the rice patties, contrasted with the now appearing clumps of trees with that combination of mature green leaves and those yellowish greens of new leaves. After about an hour and a half, the dark greens of a cedar forest start to appear with light greenish mountains rising above them. About three hundred and fifty years ago when Tokugawa’s grandson was building the shrine, he decided to plant a cedar forest. The last bit of the train ride is through much younger trees that trace their origin back to those original plantings.
The express doesn’t go all the way into Nikko. A switch to a small older two car train that takes you the last ten minutes into the small town of Nikko is necessary. It is mandatory at this point to leave in the express train any remaining remnants of the hustle and bustle of Tokyo. The Nikko train station platforms, like the train, are rather old. Shed roofs, held aloft by plain iron columns with peeling paint, provide a small amount of protection from the elements. The station itself isn’t that old, but has a nice airy feel that calls for folks to sit a spell, have a snack, talk a bit and of course do some people watching.
We did some quick sightseeing before calling for our pickup. Nothing makes an excursion like this more enjoyable than staying at a ryokan – traditional Japanese inn. We have stayed at ryokan before. This one was a mom and pop deal and more like a bed and breakfast than bigger ones we have stayed at in the past. After a short drive up a mountain along a twisty one lane road our host pulled off the side of the road and announced, “We are here.” This struck me as odd because all I could see were trees. And the only thing I could hear was a waterfall and a babbling stream below us. Our host, obviously noticing my confusion pointed up the mountain. About forty feet above us, up a narrow twisty path was the three story house where we would be staying. This mom and pop ryokan only has nine rooms. And, at one end of the house, an ofuro that looks out at the woods and a slight rapid at a bend in the stream.
The other ryokan we have been to have had male and female ofuros which are nice in that you can go in and camp out for as long as you like. This one though, had a family ofuro. So after getting settled in our room, we headed for our thirty minutes in the ofuro. The ofuro itself was about knee deep, more than six feet long and about four feet wide. In a word, lovely! Wearing our yukata robes we went back to the room and waited for our meal by standing on our small balcony, being overwhelmed by all the green and the sound of babbling water.
Generally, when staying in a ryokan, the evening meal is kai seki – which means lots of haute cuisine type stuff with local and seasonal delicacies. Pam, in her infinite wisdom, had picked this ryokan for three reasons: the small size, the family ofuro, and no kai seki. Pam has certain food and texture biases that prevent her from enjoying the visual and gustatory sensation that is kai seki as much as I do. Our meal was no less beautiful or delicious. It consisted of a small salad with wafu dressing, miso soup, an assortment of pickles, and rice…all standard accompaniments to a traditional Japanese meal. The main course were chunks of beef, chicken, mushroom and pumpkin that we grilled ourselves over a small grill brought to our table. Indoor grilling! What a great country! This was followed by a whole, very lightly breaded flash deep fried fish which was fabulous. Even the tail was perfectly cooked and edible. The final dish was a local delicacy. When tofu is made it has a thin crust. Nikko is famous for its tofu crust which is shaved off and, when raw has the look and feel of a long strip of ivory-toned velvety georgette. I like tofu. OK, I really like tofu. And I like the crust. But I have never had it like this. It was served in a sashimi style, four small rolled pieces, raw, with a side of soy sauce and fresh wasabi. Usually, wasabi has quite a bite, but this freshly ground and prepared wasabi added a layer of richness and intenseness without the harsh bite. It was lovely and for me, the crowning point of the meal. Unfortunately, they also served dessert. Dessert was vanilla ice cream with pepper and dried azuki beans. Azuki beans are the red beans that are generally ground to form a sweetened paste – called anko – for pastries and desserts. Samantha and I are big fans of anko. None of us really care for the bare bean version, and certainly not on top of our ice cream; and certainly not with black pepper.
Back in the room our hosts helped us lay out our futons on the tatami mat floor. There is nothing like crawling into a warm futon on a cool mountain evening. We left our balcony door open but closed the shoji – the white papered door – so the room would still be cool and so we could hear the stream below. Ah, surely Nikko is Nippon.
The next morning after another ofuro, a walk through the woods, and a traditional Japanese breakfast of rice, miso soup, pickles and grilled salmon, we headed back to the station and caught a bus up to the temples. The shrines and temples in this area are recognized as UNESCO World Heritage Sites. There is the Rinno-ji, which is the current version of the original shrine constructed by Shodo Shonin. Its claim to fame is the Sambutsu hall which contains three large gilded Buddhas.
A short walk up the hill lined with three hundred year old cedars, is a five story pagoda and a large stone torii – gate. Beyond this, up a steep set of stairs is a large red mon – gate – that is the entrance to Toshu-gu, which is the large gaudy mausoleum. It is inside this gate that the sacred stable with the monkey carvings sets. While the monkeys and other animal carvings are quite impressive and life like, there was the desire to have some elephant carvings as well. Unfortunately the artist had never seen an elephant, so his elephant carvings look more like mutant beasts and bad renditions of A.A. Milne’s heffalumps from a Pooh nightmare. Up another set of steep steps are more gaudy storehouses within the elaborately walled compound. There is then another mon and equally elaborate and lavishly gaudy inner shrine famous for its painted ceiling depicting a flying dragon.
While all of this is very nice, it is a bit, well gaudy and busy. But if you veer off to the right, things quiet down a bit, and you can see the famous carving of the sleeping cat, some lovely carved white cranes carved above a small gate that leads to some really really steep steps that leads to the top of the hill and Tokugawa Ieyasu’s tomb. The climb and the view will take your breath away. The trees, huge old towers that surround and dwarf you as you climb, have lighting rods and wire tie downs to help keep them upright. The tomb itself is quite simple and despite the height, you can only glimpse mountains through the trees that still tower over you.
About two hundred meters from this shrine is Futarasan jinga, the shrine founded by Shonin. While the shrine itself is simpler and smaller, there is a small quiet garden off to the right with a small spring and stone lanterns covered in moss. In a more intimate setting like this, the trees seem even larger.
And then just beyond this is the tomb of Tokugawa Iemitsu, the grandson that built Toshu-gu. Being all templed, shrined and masoleumed out, we headed down a back path, through more giant trees and along side a small brook that feeds into the Daiya River just upstream from the Shin-kyo Bridge. The unusual and lovely red bridge with gold plates has recently been reconstructed. Legend has it that this bridge is the location where Shonin was carried across the river by two large serpents. I interpret this to mean that Shonin couldn’t swim, as the river is quite calm at this location and it appears that the water really isn’t all that deep…but what to do I know? There is also the story that only the shogun could use this bridge to get across the river and up to the temples. Now, for about 350 yen, you can walk across it as well. Pretending you are a shogun or a Buddhist priest being carried by serpents is free.
Nikko is Nippon. Still not exactly sure what that means, but I am ready to go back and spend some more time trying to figure it out.
To view some pictures from our trip http://thewalkerhomeplace.com/pages/gallery.html
More information can be found at the following sites UNESCO World Heritage Sites and Nikko.
[ad]