I can easily be distracted by visual displays of color and pattern. I relate to infants watching a mobile; their eyes are bright with excitement and their chubby little legs kick with glee. If I were a bird, I’d be right after the mate with the most colorful and hypnotic plumage.
So I guess I was ready made for Japan. On my first visit there I was immediately attracted to…..almost everything. So much eye candy (for lack of a better description). I was fascinated by it all. Pity anyone who was with me. They were required to move VERY s l o w l y, so as to savor and attempt to consume it all as I pointed out each thing that caught my eye, foolishly hoping my companion would get the same jolt I did. I clearly did not trust their own abilities.
visual images that are superficially attractive and entertaining but intellectually undemanding.
“the film’s success rested on a promotional campaign showcasing its relentless eye candy”
In our culture, the term eye candy seems mostly used to define a buxom, brainless young woman. For me, it means something visual that I can take pleasure from.
Think of the current superbloom of wildflowers in California. Possibly, a once in a lifetime treat. If this isn’t eye candy, what is?? Add to these floral enticements the staggering beauty and gasp- inducing wonder of a mature Japanese cherry tree in blossom, probably made more magical by its ephemeral nature. Certainly more bittersweet.
The diversity, power and beauty of Japanese ceramics and its long tradition make this art form one to be savored.
In the course of writing this blog, I realize that most of what I consider eye candy in the West, is found in nature. In Japan, it can be man-made and intentional as well as natural. The Japanese seem to have an innate artistic sensibility that can raise my heartbeat. What is the magic formula that allows this ability?
I have thousands of photos of things that inspire me when I’m in Japan. I’ve shared just a small slice of them to give you a sense of my encounters! I imagine on an Eye Candy Sensitivity Chart, I might be off the chart. Don’t know. What is clear is that these visual delights bring me great pleasure.
Sometimes, I wonder how many more years I’ll be able to make this trek. Unknowable. But, for now, I’m gearing up for another round, leaving this world on May 1!
After recovering from three somewhat harrowing days driving a rental car on the road in Japan, we learned , despite the high points of the trip, not to do it again. I also relearned that there is a very small margin of error between life and death on a snake like one lane curving road where a head -on collision could catapult you from one world to the next and was possible at any time.
At Koyasan, while walking through the cryptomeria pathway lined with tombs of the dead, I learned again to value the time I have left, before I rest for eternity with the millions who have passed before us.
On the far too narrow one lane road leading us out of Koyasan, I learned that beauty can exist in unlikely circumstances. The road really should have been just a pathway along the small river, but it actually was chosen by Google maps as our way to get down the steep mountain. It even had a route #!
Despite the knowledge that each curve or one wrong turn of the wheel could presage our final moments, I could not get over the thrill of being in this beautiful area. The intense beauty overcame my fear. The foliage lining the river’s path was at its peak of fall color. The river itself, about 25 feet beneath the road, was populated by beautiful boulders and rocks, the river, crystal clear, running a path between them. It invited me to linger, but my husband had a sense of urgency to get us to a wider and undoubtedly safer road. Some bikers rushed past us, but other than that, we’d meet one or two other motorists about every 20minutes, which is to say, we were mostly alone in this splendid landscape on this treacherous road.
Then, suddenly this journey into an alternate universe was over. We welcomed the first houses that appeared and celebrated escaping alive. Maybe I’m being overly melodramatic, but I don’t think so! Soon, the junk big box architecture that is too prevalent outside of most cities took over our visual field. We’ve lost so much of the natural world.
The sacred place of Koyasan was meant to celebrate nature, as is Shintoism. I am grateful we got to participate in the celebration, somber as it could be at times.
Setting. Somewhere along the coast of the Kii Penninsula, Japan. Mid- Autumn, early afternoon. Narrow road. Driver, operating a car on the “wrong” side of what he’s accustomed to, has strong tendency to drift to the left towards perilous drainage ditch. No road shoulders. Passenger and driver both displaying symptoms of anxiety.
“Move over.” she
Move Over! she
Move Over!! she
“What part of Move Over Don’t you understand?” she, shouting now.
“Shut up, Bess.”he (Note: Bess was my mother.) The even tone of his voice told his wife he’d been planning this response.
Half hour later…
Loud Bang!!!! left front tire
Epilogue. Driver knew very well how to change a tire. Passenger, not so much. Problem encountered when trying to figure out where to place the jack under the car. Eventually asked the next driver to pass by for help. New, temporary tire made it possible to return to “city” in opposite direction of day’s destination, in order to purchase full sized tire.
Since I learned to drive, I’ve always had the urge to explore places off the beaten path. I love to follow an unknown road deep into the countryside. The same impulse still resides in me today. Yesterday, it took me and my husband on a wonderful detour just on the city’s edge.
Following a recommendation in the Kyoto Visitor’s Guide, we set out for the Oharano Shrine which is known to have maple trees that explode with fiery color in the fall. Unfortunately, we were about a week too early to see the color as described, so we moved through the shrine rather quickly. Pausing for tea in a small café, the owner knew a little English, just as I know a little Japanese. We both enjoyed ourselves patching a conversation together that each mostly understood, or pretended to, if we didn’t. The fruit hanging in the background is kaki (persimmons) going through the traditional process of drying, out-of-doors in the shade of eaves.
My instincts told me there was more to see beyond the shrine. We followed a steep pathway, towards a promised temple we knew nothing about.
It was a haul for me, but after a quarter mile of huffing and puffing, we arrived at the ancient temple, Shojiji. Danny led the way.
There were only one or two other visitors on the grounds. I felt like I was in a fairy tale setting. The beauty of the stones, buildings and grounds were enriched by the eager plant life, which had taken over in places , encouraged by meandering streams. Certain areas were almost hidden by the lush gloom, adding to the solemnity and mystery.
The history of Shoji-ji temple predates that of Kyoto itself. Founded in the year 686, it is known for its feeling of remoteness, as well as the hundreds of cherry and maple trees in the gardens, which are a photographer’s delight in both spring and autumn. Bonson Lam, Japan travel
Shojiji wears her age well and proudly. There are no attempts to hide her age. Nature is allowed to encroach but hasn’t taken over. The temple’s worn features are dignified and strong. She played an important role in early Kyoto history that is still respected. Yesterday, I became a fan.
Kyoto has lots of restaurants. All kinds of restaurants. All kinds of food. We like many places that we’ve tried, happily returning each time we visit. The standards are high here. The food is always well prepared, of high quality and very fresh. You won’t find overcooked fish. The offerings are usually a seasonal celebration. Expect bamboo shoots and mushrooms as soon as they’re in season. Contrary to popular opinion, sushi comprises only one small option of food that’s available. Sashimi is usually served as a small appetizer. Unless you’re at a sushi restaurant, the menus are diverse.
Many restaurant are small, so reservations are often essential. Having a restaurant here is a labor of love, never a get rich quick scheme. That said, given the number of small restaurants, I assume the start-up process to open a restaurant is not prohibitively expensive.
My husband has stacks of business cards from the places we’ve eaten and enjoyed. Unfortunately, most of them are written in Japanese, so they’re of little or no use. We’re always interested in discovering “new” places to eat when we come to Kyoto as well as returning to our old familiars. Our neighborhood is ripe with opportunities.
One of our dear friends here, Robert Yellin, has a particularly keen talent to find great restaurants with great chefs. His ability in seeking out fine restaurants rivals his ability to find the best Japanese ceramics to sell and display in his wonderful not-to-be-missed-if -you-like ceramics-gallery near the Philosopher’s Walk!. A highlight of our visits to Kyoto always includes our dinner with Robert.