Kyoto: The Locals

In the morning, I said goodbye to Hajime-san and his wife Noriko-san. I wrote my impression in the second edition of their guest book on the kitchen table. I wondered about all the guests who had written their short stopovers here—how they ended up here, how their lives continued. As for me, I wondered if this journey would be my last or only once-in-a-lifetime experience. For a moment, I was suspended in time.

• • • • •

I was heading to Kyoto but got stuck at Hikone train station. I was supposed to attend a Couchsurfing Japanese calligraphy event at 10 AM, but the train information screen showed a bridge crash on the way to Kyoto. The schedule was delayed by 45 minutes. The event was held by a local woman named Comachi. I told her that I might be late or at worst couldn’t make it to the event. She sounded a bit sad but kindly offered me half-price if I still wanted to join midway.

• • • • •

I think it was from comics or novels that I knew Kyoto was the ancient capital before it moved to Nara, then back to Kyoto, and finally to Edo (Tokyo) during the Meiji Era—probably something to do with geography and politics. I wondered if Tokyo was an anagram of Kyoto, since To-Kyo and Kyo-To seemed to use the same characters.

• • • • •

Inside the waiting room at Hikone station. I saw two old women having a conversation and a schoolgirl with the iconic blue uniform playing with her tiny phone. The summer heat was so damn blazing. Kansai region is famous for its humidity and lack of wind during this time, especially the Kyoto area. I felt a bit uncomfortable. This reminded me of the days before I left—my hometown, where every day felt like summer. My school uniform always got wet after school or after taking an afternoon nap, and at night I often fought to get the only fan in the house with my brother. Eventually we bought an AC and cut a hole in the wall so we could share it between our two rooms.

• • • • •

I arrived in Kyoto at 10:25 AM. From Kyoto station, I walked fast to the event location. The atmosphere slowly changed into a remake version of old Japan. I passed through a pathway lined up with traditional wooden houses on the left and right. Inside the event place, I saw two other people meticulously painting a kanji character on a paddle fan. It turned out that Comachi wasn’t the one who taught the calligraphy class, but her friend Saisyu, who was currently teaching someone in front of her. On the table, there were piles of paper that had been used for practice. Brushes of all sizes were neatly lined up. Saisyu invited me to sit and gave me some papers, a brush, and orange ink. Since she couldn’t speak English fluently, she kept to Japanese while Comachi translated into English. She explained a bit about the writing systems, then asked me to pick between Hiragana and Katakana composition of my name. I picked Hiragana. She continued by demonstrating the brushing techniques and the way to control the pressure to maintain the ideal shape. I mostly screwed it up, but she patiently guided my hand to feel the pressure. “Here, we believe that the way you brush and the pressure you put represent what kind of soul you have inside.” After a bunch of practice, she gave me an uchiwa fan and black ink to brush my name on it. “Orange is for practice,” she added.

• • • • •

After the event, I walked without a destination. I hadn’t booked any place to stay yet. The heat burned my skin. I walked in a hurry to the alley I’d been through before and stopped in a cafe called ‘Cafe World’. I ordered an iced coffee and vegetable spaghetti. I checked my phone and looked for a hostel online, but suddenly an incoming email notification from a couchsurfer host I’d contacted the night before appeared.

From: Mayuko
-Hi, sorry for the late reply, I just check your request
-Have you arrived in Kyoto?
–Yes, I have and still looking for the hostel
-If you haven’t booked it you can stay with us..
-Do you know where are you now?
–I’m at a cafe on.. wait..
-Shimmachi-dori but I don’t know the area
-I’ll share you the location…
–Can you find the way to Kawaramachi Station?
–I’ll meet you there at three-thirty

I arrived around Kawaramachi Station earlier than I thought. I sat on a stone bench surrounded by a small garden among a crowded intersection. Mayuko arrived and greeted me without any awkwardness, as if we were old friends. She wore a white t-shirt, long blue monotone skirt with flower motifs, and a small bag on her shoulder. Her hair was a typical medium-length bob style with bangs, like the most common haircut among Japanese women. The good thing was, she spoke English fluently with her local accent still clinging nicely.

• • • • •

-Do you know why traditional Japanese vertically written? –Hm, I don’t know but once I’ve read that, in the past they borrowed the symbol and the writing system from the Chinese writing system. Perhaps because it’s symbolic language? so, no matter how you align the letter it’s still readable
-That’s Right! it’s borrowed from Chinese writing system, and to simplify Chinese Kanji, Hiragana and Katakana was developed. There are some theories about why its vertical, one of them is because in ancient times most of the East Asian people write the text on a bamboo or formed a social habit of giving signal through bamboo tree which is written in vertical and it continues through other mediums.
–And how’s today? is there any difference when people write in vertical or horizontal? –After world war II, horizontal writing system slowly becomes more common, nowadays we use both but depends on the occasion, we called it Tategaki for vertical form and Yokogaki for horizontal form. Tategaki commonly used in newspaper, letter, novel, manga while Yokogaki is used in textbooks; there is no way you could write an equation in vertical form

• • • • •

I asked Mayuko if she knew any interesting hidden places here. “Hidden…?” she looked a bit confused. “You mean less popular places?” “Yes, interesting but not popular.” Her confusion was contagious—I even questioned myself whether I’d used the right term.

• • • • •

We took a metro bus to an area close to Heian Shrine. Mayuko lived with her family in a typical Kyoto semi-traditional house (Machiya) surrounded by residential buildings in a serene alley. Her family ran a small bakery and pastry shop not far from their house. When I asked her how long she’d been living here, she replied, “I was born here, I grew up here, studied here. I probably know every inch of this city. Ha ha.”

• • • • •

I would stay in their house for three days until Sunday. This was my first experience staying with a couchsurfer, a complete stranger I’d just met a few hours ago, so I felt a little bit clumsy, but Mayuko seemed very friendly, which at least comforted me. I stayed in a room on the second floor. Mayuko had apparently hosted a few people before—on the wall, there was a board with photos of previous guests and her photos abroad with decorated words on it.

• • • • •

-Do you have any plan for today?
–No, I don’t, but tomorrow i’m going to Fushimi Inari Taisha and Gion District, any advice?
-Fushimi are super crowded all day and it’s very hot this summer, you’d better come there late afternoon or early in the morning
-Do you know how to ride a scooter?
–Yes, I know.. -Let’s go there now if you’re not tired and I’ll show you around

• • • • •

A yellow Suzuki scooter spur on the road. “turn right at the intersection — just go straight till the end — that’s Kamo river — over there is Gion but let’s go to Fushimi first — so many cafes along this side — have you tried sake? — that’s McDonald’s —  almost arrive keep on this side”

• • • • •

// Phone notes at Fushimi Inari Taisha
Giant Torii gate: Romon Gate
Like pi (π)
Inari: kami of Rice—kami is Shinto god
Fushimi: the name of this district
Taisha: type of shrine
Kitsune: fox—the kami’s courier
Courier? like messenger? ((sounds like a prophet))
Senbon Torii: thousands of torii gates
Like entering another dimension
Might get optical hallucinations as you walk far in
Might cross paths with boars and monkeys

• • • • •

-do you believe in ghosts?
–Yes, when I was a kid
–There is a Chinese cemetery complex not far behind our house, my room’s window facing the cemetery, but I’ve never seen anything except some cat who opened their basecamp there. They often fight and make a fuss at night and I always shock them with paper bundles but mostly useless because they thought it’s food, they sniff it and must be thought ‘what the hell is this stupid man throw upon us’
–One day there was something that made me almost believe that ghost really exist, my cousin took a vacation and sleep in my room, around 2 AM he woke me up, trembling while pointing at the window, there was a shadow of a creature with a horn and strange shape, I jumped, went outside, and turn around to look over the window, well, it turned out just a bat perched on the windows. As I grow older somehow I lost my fear of supernatural things, kind of skeptical about any spiritual phenomenon

• • • • •

The air is neither cold nor hot. People are seen walking more casually on the pedestrian, perhaps because tomorrow is Saturday. We stop around Shimogyo Ward — an area packed with Izakaya pubs, standing bars, and shopping stores. We continue by walk through the side alleys filled with people coming and going then crossing the Kamo river until Gion District — famous for its traditional arts such as Geisha and Kabuki. “Most tourists usually come here during the daytime but this place actually starting alive at dusk”. The street is lined up with traditional machiya houses decorated with lit red white lanterns and noren curtain which serve as teahouses, bars, and restaurants. Not far when we’re walking just an inch in front of us two women with white makeup and traditional kimono come out from a machiya

• • • • •

-look! that’s Maiko
–Maiko? do you mean Geisha?
-Maiko is a Geiko/Geisha on training before they become Geiko
–Please tell me more…
-First of all, they are not a prostitute but there are some of them ended up having a relationship with their patron, but it’s a personal choice, there is no such thing in their task -to become a Maiko someone should reach age 15, then they should find a host family who usually trains Maiko but that’s not easy, then she lives with the host, another Maiko, and Geiko. Their early days will be filled with a lot of traditional music, dancing, instrument, and ceremonial training.
-they even should behave in public even if they’re not on work, their clients nowadays are mostly tourists or loyal patron, and their income actually is given back to the host and managed by the host
–an exchange for those training, kimono, and the residence?
–sounds like university loan -yeah, sort of…
-as a Maiko get older and have more experiences they will become a Geiko, they usually already have a loyal patron and earn more -their kimono decoration is more simple than Maiko, Maiko use high sandals called Okobo while Geiko use a small one called Geta -anyway, Geisha term is commonly used in Tokyo, in Kansai area it’s Geiko, but the meaning is almost the same — Gei for ‘art’ and Sha for ‘person’; there are also male Geisha called Taikomochi, and the other one who usually associated with a prostitute is called Oiran –By the way, do you know Dewi Sukarno? She was Japanese and married Indonesia’s first president -Oh yes! I think I’ve seen her on a TV show. She worked at a high-end club in Tokyo before meeting him, right? –Exactly. People sometimes confuse her story with Geisha culture

• • • • •

Somewhere near Shinbashi-dori alley, we enter a tachinomi bar called ‘Kokoro’. The bar offers various drinks & dishes such as sashimi, miso, egg mentai, and sake. Next to us on the standing bar, some tourists just finished one bottle of sake. I am personally not a drinker, and never spend my money on alcoholic drinks. I start the conversation by asking her about what makes her so content to be in this city, why not Tokyo or other cities. “That’s the answer, I already feel so content to be here, compare to Tokyo life is much more relaxing here; the living cost and the social pressure is much lower; the people are more talkative; and the most important part, my family is here”. A group of Japanese near us laugh so hard, they talk like figures in anime while enjoying their sake”. We stay there until nine then take a short walk aimlessly in Kiyamachi-dori, down to the road next to the river

• • • • •

I started the day by reading an article about the political situation in Indonesia. The uproar of the recent election, which had ended about a month ago, still wasn’t over. The issue that day was about 527 election officers (KPPS Officers) who had died of exhaustion during the vote count. An immense ocean of disappointment reverberated on social media. Prabowo Subianto and his proponents were furious. They still couldn’t accept their defeat and were trying to fight for their rights, whether real or delusional.

• • • • •

Half of Kyoto was still sleeping. The birds in Okazaki park were chirping on the cherry trees. In front of the park, the magnificent Heian Shrine was still quiet, waiting for the tourists who would come soon. ‘Heian-Kyo is the old name of Kyoto.’ ‘This shrine was part of Kyoto Imperial Palace in the past.’

• • • • •

Every building I pass is a mystery—I often mistake them for cafes, tea houses, izakaya, guest houses, or other kinds of shops.

• • • • •

Sakura season has passed, it’s the verdant turn that enlivens. Since I started my journey from Tokyo, I’ve visited a dozen temples and shrines—enough to give me temple fatigue. At this point, I feel a little tired of traveling. Not physically tired, but tired of consuming so many different experiences in such a short time without space to absorb and reflect on them.

• • • • •

Kyoto is the kind of place that will give you homesickness even before you leave. I’m constantly imagining moments I want to watch in slow motion.

• • • • •

I take a nap about an hour before writing down these notes. From the window, I can see a grey cat lazing near a flowerpot on the neighbor’s yard. Earlier on the way home, Mayuko told me stories about everything she knew about this city, jumping from one topic to another as we passed different places. “That’s my high school. This is the famous Sanjo-Bridge where Samurai always meet and used to battle and perhaps drink coffee in that Starbucks.” Sometimes it’s better to just enjoy the conversation, be part of it without worrying about what I’m going to write in this note

• • • • •

In the late afternoon, Mayuko and I strolled around the Kamogawa river, only a few hundred meters from their house. We walked through Kyoto University, where she was still pursuing her linguistics degree. I saw a giant tree standing in the middle of the campus area which had become the university’s symbol. We then took a rest at Kawabata park next to the Kamo river and spent the rest of the afternoon there

• • • • •

“Tō-Kyō ( 東-京) and Kyō-To ( 京-都 ). They have different ‘To’. The Tō in Tokyo means ‘East’ and the ‘To’ in Kyoto means ‘City’, while ‘Kyo’ means ‘Capital’ for both of them. So, Tokyo means ‘East Capital’ and Kyoto means ‘Capital City’. This is because Kyoto is our old capital before it eventually moved to Tokyo in the east part”

• • • • •

Tonight, Mayuko’s mother serves us a typical local food called Obanzai, a variety of dishes such as rice with mushroom, miso tofu, vegetables, fried fish, and other small cuisines. I wonder when was the last time I had a family dinner. Her mother and younger sister curiously glance and exchange smiles among themselves while eating, as if I am a judge on a master chef show

• • • • •

I wondered if anything was immune to stereotypes. Even gods cannot protect themselves and become victims of stereotypes.

• • • • •

YouTube sniffed my activity in Japan. Its algorithm recommended me “The Evolution of Japanese Music” video. It covered music from the 14,000 BCE Jōmon period to the 1980s J-Pop era. The Jōmon period sounded like common tribal music from a primordial time—rustic drums, mouth echoes, skin claps, people dancing around fires. The following eras sounded simple, almost silly. It seemed like the Japanese gradually gained their distinct musical characteristics after the Meiji era, because before that it mostly sounded like Chinese traditional music.

And the comment section:
Yayoi Period
“Enough with the 14000 years of heyoing, let’s try these metal sticks we’ve found”
Guy #1: “He man listen to this sweet song I made” – dings triangle bell 3 times
Guy #2: “Whoa dude, sick beats”
“Nostalgia! who else is a 14000 BC kid and remember this masterpiece?”

• • • • •

Today, we go hiking to the Takao area in North Kyoto. The roads remind me of Bogor without traffic on Sunday. The atmosphere is pretty calm, and I encounter only a few foreigners along the way. We pass some beautiful temples as we walk higher – a temple with a giant bell called Saimyoji, a temple surrounded by the oldest tea plantation in Japan called Kozanji, and a small temple on the riverside whose name I forget – instead of feeling boredom, this time I’m quite enjoying visiting temples