Kamakura
My parents came to visit us in August. We should probably refer to these people as grandparents, but calling them “the spoilers” seems far more appropriate. I am reluctant to refer to them as my parents, since they bear little resemblance to the people that raised me. The people that raised me had a vast vocabulary. For example, when they said, “No,” it meant “NO, not ever in your life time!” When they said, “Maybe,“ it meant “NO! never.” When they said, “We will see, “ it meant “NO! But probably never.” When they said, “Let’s wait and see,” it meant “Not never, but definitely NO!” Their vocabulary has not only simplified, but appears to have taken an entirely new course. Their response to anything their granddaughter asks is, “Yes! Yes! Yes! of course yes.”
For those of you who don’t personally know “the spoilers”, let me tell you some things about them. First of all, they live in a bucolic world I like to call “Happy Valley.” Happy Valley is a real nice place. Everyone in Happy Valley is either related to you, knows you or is related to someone you know. The trees are tall, the mountains old, the water clean, the air crisp. There ain’t no big cities in Happy Valley, but lots of small towns. There ain’t no traffic jams in Happy Valley, unless you get behind a tractor on Reliance Road. There ain’t a lot of asphalt or concrete in Happy Valley, ‘cause all them there cows eat grass, not gravel. I mean, come to think of it, it’s a downright swell place to be.
Now, let’s just say, you are sitting around wondering what Culture Shock looks like. Well, you take the spoilers out of Happy Valley, make them spend 14 hours in an airplane, and then drop them in the middle of the one of the largest cities in the world. Ladies and Gentlemen, you got yourselves a serious case of culture shock.
We did try to drag them out of the house and show them a thing or two. (We had already scared them with the ofuro and the whole Lilliputian experience with our furniture and appliances.) Once out and about, my dad became fascinated by the subway system in Tokyo. (I still haven’t found out what they did with all the dirt, but I have learned how to say, “land reclamation.”) I think I have mentioned in previous tales that Samantha likes to carry a map with her. She gets these little postcard size maps from the stands next to the subway platforms. She gave grandfather spoiler an 8 x 11 copy of this map. He looked at and said, “I can’t believe there are so many train tracks in Japan.”
“Dad. That isn’t a map of Japan.”
“I thought you said it was the trains in Japan.”
“No, that is the subway system.”
“In all of Japan.”
“No, just Tokyo.”
“Just Tow-key-oh?”
“To-kyo. And yes.”
“So this is all the trains in this city.”
“No, that is just the subway system in Tokyo.”
“Isn’t that all the trains in Tokyo?”
“No. This is the subway. Most of this is underground. Then there are the JR lines – those train lines tend to run above ground, but not all the time. And then there are special lines, like the one you rode from the airport to the Ueno Train Station. And then there are the Shinkansen – bullet trains – which go all over Japan. They come and go in and out of a number of different stations within Tokyo.”
“I can’t imagine.”
To help them “imagine” we took them, on the subway. We took them on the JR lines. We took them on some special trains. We took them on the Shinkansen. They had already seen the Ueno train station which has two subway lines running under it. It has the special line from the airport. It has four different JR lines. And Ueno is also a Shinkansen station. There are a lot of tracks, above and below ground, running in and out of Ueno station. And yet Ueno is not even close to being one of the largest train stations in Tokyo.
One of the largest is Tokyo Station. A lovely three-story brick building that is about two blocks long. But the real part of the station is several blocks long, several blocks wide and several stories deep. Like Ueno station, it has subway lines, JR lines, special lines and Shinkansen lines. There is even a huge mall under one part of the station.
Having confused the spoilers with the subway, we took them to Tokyo station, went down four stories and caught a train out to Kamakura. Kamakura was the capital of Japan from 1185-1333. It is a lovely area with grass and trees and a beach. There are some great hiking trails and enough temples with sacred paraphernalia to rewrite Mark Twain’s Innocents Abroad. The main reason people go to Kamakura is to see the large Buddha (Daibutsu).
At the Kamakura station you catch a quaint three-car electric train which runs along a single set of tracks, with trees and shrubs brushing the side of the train as you go. Every other station has a dual set of tracks for the trains going in the opposite direction to pass. The station closest to the Daibutsu sets on the side of a hill. About a half mile down the hill is the beach. About a half mile up the hill, past souvenir shops and gelato stands, is Mr. Daibutsu.
Having traveled a good bit in Asia, I have seen a lot of statues of Mr. Buddha. I would say if you have seen one, you have pretty much seen them all. The Buddha in Kamakura is a very nice one. From an artistic point of view, the Daibutsu, is a remarkable piece. His face actually has a tranquil countenance. And I think part of its appeal is that his head leans forward a bit, as if he is starting to bow. While viewing it, I found myself thinking of two other Buddhas that stand out in my mind.
The first one really doesn’t stand out as it is a reclining Buddha in a temple in Bangkok, Thailand. Apparently this Buddha is reclined because he has nearly reached nirvana. (I, personally, thought he was just stretching his legs. But what do I know?) This is a huge Buddha, nearly half the length of a football field and covered in gold. It’s feet are inlaid with mother-of-pearl. Given that you have to be careful how you point/show your feet in Japan, I am guessing there won’t be one of those on display here anytime soon.
The second Buddha that stands out in my mind was one I saw in Indonesia that had been built by a guy who really liked concrete. He liked concrete so much that he had a park full of concrete statues. The three story tall concrete Buddha which was to be the center piece of this park, was not all that impressive. Each statue had a little red box on a pole. That way you could pay to pray to that piece of concrete. I am not a big fan of concrete. For one thing, I prefer grass. Secondly, as a youth, I spent a good amount of time performing grunt labor for my father who builds houses. I used to have the honor of “catching” the concrete as it came out of the cement truck, down the shoot and into the footers for new houses. I can tell you with great authority that concrete has a lot to cuss at, but nothin’ to pray to! The most memorable statue in the park was not the Buddha, but the concrete imagine of four dogs in a car with one of them driving. I must admit, this confused me, as I was unclear about the relationship of dogs driving a car and Buddhism. Were they his dogs? How did he teach them to drive? OR, were these the dogs in the “Dogs playing poker” picture that looks so good when painted on velvet and viewed with a black light? I became downright perplexed when a women stepped up, placed some money in the red box and began to pray. Was she praying for the dogs? Did she pray for the one that eventually had the winning hand in the poker picture? Did she want a car? Did she want a dog? Did she want a car and a dog? Had the other pieces of concrete let her down? (Twelve years have passed and I still have time to think about such things.)
And now, this week, checking in at #3 on this very random list is the Daibutsu at Kamakura. This bronze statue was built in 1252, weighs about 120 tons, and is almost 40 feet tall. A magnificent piece of bronze artwork. He sits on a large terraced area, surrounded by trees that hide souvenir and trinket shops. The day we were there, someone had put a nice round watermelon in front of him. I could tell it was one of those really nice watermelons that you can buy for $50. - (I am pretty sure it wasn’t one of the hundred dollar ones. And in case you are wondering, NOT making this up.) Looking at this huge statue made me wonder what the Lichtenstein or the Oldenburg or the pieces by Moore or the Calder in the sculpture garden on the Mall in DC will look like in 500 years.
That’s right. This Buddha is outside and has been outside for 500 years (509 to be exact, but who’s counting?). Oh, he used to be inside. When you are a 40 foot tall bronze masterpiece from Siam, believe you me, you get your own temple. But in 1495, there was a typhoon. And the typhoon was followed by a tsunami. And that tsunami made its way up that hill and knocked his house down.
The thought of enough water making it up a mile long steady incline and still having enough power to knock down a temple housing a forty foot statue is rather daunting. Of course we had time to contemplate this while we ate mango gelato and sweet potato flavored soft serve ice cream swirled with green tea flavored soft serve ice cream – yummy! And we had time to contemplate this some more while we strolled along the beach. And we contemplated it on the train ride home. (Well that and what does a buddha do with a fifty dollar watermelon?)
You know, if you live in Happy Valley, you can get a big ol’ watermelon for three-four bucks. And you may only get to see a freight train instead of a bullet train. But at least you don’t have to worry about a tsunami knocking your house over, or someone leaving you outside for 500 years.
Originally titled: The Buddha and Beach - Written August 2004
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