Bronchitis, the Moss Temple, and the Sake Museum/Bronquite, o templo de musgo, e o museu de saquê

Joel sounds like death. Well, he did. From the time we got here until today, he has been coughing and hacking and wheezing, valiantly battling this year's bout of bronchitis. My husband doesn't get sick very often, but bronchitis seems to be his ailment of choice. And when he gets it, he gets it bad, mkay? This year it came complete with a horrifying rattle that sounded like the Grim Reaper was scratching to get out of his bronchus. Lucky for him, it finally started to ease up today - which I take credit for, because I made him take not one, but two days off of sightseeing. We bummed around the house on Monday and yesterday, partially at my insistence, and it looks like it did some good (despite driving my other half halfway insane out of boredom). Hopefully he is actually on the recovery, as we have got some strenuous hikes up to the last few UNESCO temples before we leave town at the end of next week. Time sure does fly.

Tuesday, however, was the day we'd been waiting for: the day for which we had received permission to visit Saihou-ji, more commonly known as Kokedera, or the Moss Temple. Like I mentioned before, you have to apply for permission in advance, so we were really excited that we had gotten approval so quickly and were hellbent on making sure we didn't miss out, come rain or shine (or illness). We headed out of the house early and made it to the train with plenty of time to spare. Unfortunately, once we got to the right part of town, there were practically no restaurants open for lunch, so we wolfed down a quick convenience store lunch and headed to the temple, barely making it there on time.

The temple only allows one visitation session per day. If you are approved for a visit, you have to participate in one of the temple worship activities (usually meditation, copying sutras, or chanting sutras), and then you have about an hour to wander through the temple grounds, including the famed moss garden. Our activity, according to the postcard, was "KITOU (to chant the sutra for your happiness and ancestry)," which entailed being rushed into a room with about fifty other visitors and taking a seat at a small calligraphy bench while the monks chanted. They started at 1 o'clock sharp, so the chanting was in full swing when we got there. We were given a pamphlet with the words to follow along, but we just sat quietly during the chanting, furtively glancing around and trying not to look too clueless.

Afterwards, we were given small wooden tablets to write our names, addresses, and a wish for the monks of the temple to pray for. The catch? All of this had to be done with an ink stone and a calligraphy brush. I got all excited to write my name and wish in Japanese but screwed up right off the bat when I started to write my name (family name first, as is the Japanese custom) on the "wish" side of the tablet. Did I panic? No way. I flipped it over, filled out my information, and then finished off the "wish" side by wishing for the Keralis family's happiness - all in Japanese.

You're welcome, Dr. K.

After finishing, we were free to walk around the temple grounds and the garden. The moss garden is fairly large, so fifty of us were quickly able to spread out, walk down the path at our own individual paces, and take pictures. Soon enough it felt (almost) like we were the only ones there.

The moss garden is truly otherworldly. According to historical accounts and records, the "garden" was originally a Zen-style garden with creatively-arranged rocks and white sand; the moss only began to grow after a flood came through and spread as the temple lost funds for upkeep. Supposedly, the arrangement of the rocks reflects the creative genius of Japanese gardener Musou Soseki. Frankly, I was too busy looking at the moss to give a whiz-bang about the rocks. There is, quite literally, moss everywhere - on the trees, the ground, the bridges, the walls, the stones. It is a quiet enclave, an ethereal glimpse into a far green country beyond white shores.

After taking our time in the garden (I think we may have been the last ones to leave), we grabbed a cup of coffee and a sweet at a local coffee shop, whose owner insist that we visit one of the other nearby since we were already in the area. I asked her which one she recommended, and she said that the Jizou-in, Bamboo Temple, was the prettiest. It was a bit expensive, and no pictures were allowed inside, but the doors were open so that you could sit and look out on the garden. Joel and I sat in silence for about half an hour and then headed home.

Since Joel was feeling better today, we headed up to see the view of the city from Kyoto tower, and then we spent the afternoon at the Gekkeikan Okura Sake Museum. It was smallish, which was nice for me since I tend to get bored very quickly at museums. They even had a tasting at the end and gave us two commemorative bottles of junmai! How grand.