Miyajima was the last stop on our Golden Week vacation in 2005. The island of Miyajima is considered to be one of the three most beautiful places in Japan. (I haven’t been to the other two, but Miyajima easily makes my list of one.) You have likely never heard of Miyajima, but you have probably seen its most famous sight: The floating otorii.
The floating gate is the entrance to Itsukushima Shrine, which also floats in its own private harbor. The Itsukushima Shrine is an exquisite structure and a rare example of Heian period (794-1192) architecture. As you approach the island by ferry, the gate and shrine are dwarfed by sacred Mt. Misen, which rises above them. The orange gates that dot the Japanese landscape serve one of two purposes. Smaller gates, which have a basic design ususally serve as memorials. The larger gates, often called mon, are entrances to holy sites. This vermillion gate was placed in the water because the entire island is considered sacred. Predating the shinto shrine, this island wasconsidered to be the home of a goddess.
While we wanted to see the Itsukushima Shrine, we had gone to Miyajima to stay in a ryokan – a traditional Japanese inn. Miyajima is unique in that there are no hotels, no skyscrapers, just a small little town a few streets deep where hordes pour off ferries that arrive every 15 minutes. They come, they take pictures, they buy souvenirs, they pet the tame deer, and they leave. Like everything else we do, we went our own way, up the hill toward the ryokan that sat at the edge of town on a small hill .
A rock garden framed the entrance to the ryokan. As we entered we were bowed to repeatedly, each bow redirecting us closer to the reception desk. As we checked in, an older woman appeared from across the room wearing a pale jade kimono with a silver embroidery scene that caught the way sunlight will dance as it reflects off a pool of water in a small garden. She glided effortlessly across the room and reached us just as we finished checking in. Our kimono-clad hostess led us to our room. Our room was a large tatami room with a low table in the middle. On the far end of the room was a small sitting area behind shoji screens that over looked another rock garden with stone lanterns, the mountain rising up from the end of the garden.
We removed our shoes, entered and sat at the table while our hostess prepared green tea and manju. Manju are small sponge cakes usually with anko – sweetened red bean paste – inside. The ones on Miyajima are called momiji manju, have a hint of maple and are shaped like maple leaves. After a day of travel, the chance to sit quietly, sip some tea and have a small snack was most welcome.
Refreshed by the manju and green tea we decided to take a stroll through the streets. The street closest to the shrine is filled with manju parlors where you can watch folks make and package the manju; little restaurants selling freshly smoked oysters – another local delicacy; and the souvenir shops. But the other streets are quite quiet and you can make your way over to the shrine encountering more deer than tourists. The wild (in a tame sort of way) deer are quite happy to be petted. And even happier to eat anything, including paper, out of your hands.
We made our way back to the ryokan, changed into our yukatas – cotton kimonos – that had been laid out for us while we were gone and headed down to the onsen. It was ofuro time. Ofuros at ryokan are generally set up in one of three ways. Some have individual ofuros in each room. Some have a family style ofuro, where families can go in together. And then there are ones, like this one, that have a boys and a girls. A small swimming pool of very hot water all to myself, the water bubbling from a carved red stone in the shape of an upside down L; a rock garden behind it. Some silence and a very hot bath do wonders in helping one recover and revive after a day of travel.
While checking in, we had requested supper at 7:30. At 7:31 there was a knock on our door. In came the first of our servers, setting our table for our kaiseki – traditional Japanese meal. The idea that someone is going to fix me a dozen courses of exquisitely prepared food is my idea of a very good time. The only problem with our meal was that someone forgot to tell the servers that the servings were supposed to be small. Every time I thought I was finished, a knock at the door would announce that more food was coming. The only thing better than food, is food with fire! For our first course, a gold bowl was place over a small flame. We dipped our fresh slices of eel briefly into the boiling broth, before savoring each one. The second course was a bowl made of ice on a swirled turquoise ceramic plate. Inside the ice bowl were eight pieces of sashimi. The dishes continued to come, each culinary masterpiece on a equally splendid and perfectly matched saucer or bowl. I had no problem moving through my courses. My wife speaks Japanese; I eat Japanese. So I was the family taste tester providing taste and texture (some in my family have serious food texture issues) descriptions of each dish. There was only one dish deemed “truly foul.”
Our daughter will eat a lot of things. But we knew kaiseki would be wasted on her and so she had the children’s version, which included french fries and small pieces of thinly sliced steak, a tempura shrimp – one of her favorite foods, and onigiri – the triangles of rice, wrapped in dried seaweed and containing a small piece of cooked salmon. She also had some weird mutant “hotdog” that had a large bone sticking out the bottom that you could hold while you ate it. We all managed to have room for our dessert: fresh fruit and ice cream.
It was late, but a walk was in order. We put on the special coats that are worn with the yukatas and headed out. The odd hustle and bustle that had filled the main part of the town subsided with the departure of the last ferry. Only the deer and and a handful of other yukata-clad guests were strolling along the shore by the light of the stone lanterns, down to see the shrine and the Otorii.
By the time we got back, the food had been cleared away, the table was now standing along the wall and our three futons were laid out for us. Tucked snuggly into our futons, we fell asleep to the sound of waves on the beach, a light breeze through the trees, and the pacifying smell of sandalwood and fresh flowers mixed with a hint of straw from the mats filling the air, a most soothing respite from the demands of time in a timeless place.
The Itsukushima Shrine on Miyajima island is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Additionally, Mijama has a wide range of historical and natural points of interest.
Written -May 26, 2005