Gathering moss.

Not me, gathering moss, that is, but the monks at Saiho-ji, also known as Koke-dera, the Moss Temple. Visiting it was at the top of Sondra's (pictured) list of things to do and so I wrote 3 weeks ahead of time for permission to visit. Not only is that requirement an impediment, but the garden is devilishly hard to get to--out in the middle of nowhere. We took a train, two subways, and a bus, and still had to walk about a mile, with not a sign in sight. "Sumi masen," we kept saying to strangers ("excuse me"), "Koke-dera?" and pointing. "Hai, hai," they would say, indicating we were at least on the right track. We had allowed over 2 hours to get there and still only made it 10 minutes before our 1 pm admission time. These monks don't fool around. One minute late and we would not have gotten in. Before we could view the garden, however, we had to take part in a service. We had to kneel on the tatami in the temple and trace a sutra for a while. Then there was some drumming and chanting with people reading from a kind of prayer book. It reminded me of the old Latin Mass with people chanting along --all incomprehensible to me. Then we continued to trace the sutra. Finally the monk came up to us and told us we didn't have to finish. I actually liked doing it; Bill--not so much. Then we went up to the "altar" and offered up our copying to Buddha with a prayer.

At last we could walk around this astounding garden. The limited admission is to protect the fragility of the moss, over 100 different varieties. The garden is heart-shaped and was designed in 1339 by Muso Kokushi. It was well worth the train, 2 subways, etc.

Later in the week, after Sondra left, Bill and I trekked out to Fushimi Inari Shrine, a short train ride south on the Nara Line from Kyoto Station. "Why another shrine?," you may well ask. Well, this one has thousands of torii that march up the hill. They differ in size and density, sometimes quite small and close together, other times larger and more widely spaced--but, nonetheless relentlessly marching up the thickly wooded mountainside.

Walking through them is alternately spooky and thrilling. If you walked the whole thing (which we didn't as it was pouring rain--but we recommend), it's about 4 km. one way. Smaller shrines dot the way. The shrine was dedicated to the gods of rice and sake (Fushimi, the town, is known for its sake).

The dozens of foxes that guard the place are considered the messengers of Inari, the god of cereals (and you thought it was Kellogg!). The foxes often hold a key in their mouth, the key to the rice granary. They say the fox spirits can take over your soul--they like to enter under the fingernails. As in all shrines, you can leave petitions--these in the shape of a fox's head.

The shrine is also dedicated to success in business, and despite the rain, there were some very serious pilgrims there, ringing the bell, clapping for the god's attention, and leaving petitions for good fortune in business.

Bill here: copying a sutra must be right up there with watching the paint dry (remember Kabuki) - there are columns and columns of kanji - you're supposed to finish the copying so that you can add your prayer and offer it to the spirit. I kind of figured that he'd get the message one way or the other. Despite all that, however, the garden was incredibly dramatic with lots of water and elevations and shadows and light, all accentuated by the varying greens of the moss.