Saturday, July 23, 2016
The New Kyoto hr573
When I spent 40 minutes aboard the bullet train bound for Kyoto from
Tokyo, an alarming notion popped into my head. “Did I miss Mt. Fuji?”
It’s around this time that Mt. Fuji comes into view closely in the
bullet train window. Somehow Mt. Fuji is a special mountain for Japanese
people. It’s said that seeing the first sunrise of the year from the
top of Mt. Fuji brings a happy new year. Many of them want to climb it
once during their lifetime. They regard it as something holy and good
luck. I myself try to see it every time I take a bullet train to Kyoto,
and pray to it for a good trip. It was cloudy and rain looked imminent
on that day of my latest trip to Kyoto. Whether the train already passed
Mt. Fuji or it wasn’t visible because of thick clouds was uncertain.
The outcome of the trip depended on Mt. Fuji. I felt that this trip
might end terribly if I couldn’t see it, and I looked for it
frantically. “There it is!” Above the dark clouds, its top section poked
out clearly. “I see it! A nice trip is assured!” I was relieved and in
high spirits. While I jinx it when I don’t see it, however, I’ve had
horrible trips even when I saw a clear Mt. Fuji. Although I duly
understand an outcome of a trip doesn’t have to do with whether I see it
or not, there’s a reason why I’m nervous enough to pray to the
mountain. A trip to Kyoto means homecoming and meeting my parents. Three
out of every four visits, they give me a hard time. They insult me,
deny me and complain everything about me. I sometimes feel my life is in
danger when I’m with them because of their relentless attacks. Not to
be strangled by them while I’m sleeping, I avoid spending the night at
my parents’ home and stay at a hotel instead. I would rather not visit
and see them, but I know it would make things worse. I couldn’t imagine
how this particular trip would go especially as it was my first visit
since my parents sold their house. They could no longer afford to keep
their large house and its land inherited by our ancestors. Their
financial crunch made them sell it where my family had lived for over
1000 years. They moved out to a small, old condominium outside Kyoto.
Thinking about the situation they were now in, I couldn’t imagine their
state of mind other than being nasty. The bullet train slid into Kyoto
Station after two and a half hours. I stepped out on the platform for
the first time as a complete tourist who didn’t have a house or a family
there. To my surprise, Kyoto looked different. I couldn’t tell what and
how, but it was decisively different from Kyoto I had known. It used to
look grim and gloomy as if it was possessed by an evil spirit. But now
it was filled with clean fresh air and looked bright. I would see all
but mean people, but they also turned into nice people with smiles. I
checked in a hotel and looked out the window. Rows of old gray houses
were there. I used to think Kyoto was an ugly city with those somber
houses, but I found myself looking at even them as a tasteful view. I’d
never thought having the house I grew up in torn down and parting with
my ancestor’s land would change the city itself altogether. Or maybe, it
was me that changed…