Soothing the Soul in a City of Shrines

We realized our vacation was pushing us over the edge after one phone call, or more precisely, the one phone call we couldn’t make.

My husband, Steve, and I had come to Japan in May to spend 10 days in a land that had long intrigued us. It had intrigued my brother-in-law Jim so much that he moved to Tokyo and has made it his home for more than a decade. We flew from Los Angeles to stay with Jim, ready to explore Tokyo’s sights but not quite prepared for the bewildering subway system, the toe-crushing crowds, the sensory overload of a city of 11.9 million people.

Our frustration peaked one day when got lost in downtown Tokyo. We tried to call Jim from a public phone to ask where we were and how to get where we wanted to go. He had given us a prepaid phone card, but it didn’t work. We felt cut off. Suddenly the city’s neon signs were too bright, the streets too crowded, the pace too frantic. We felt spent--financially, mentally, even spiritually.

We needed to get away from what we had gotten away to.

We found what we needed in Kamakura, just 30 miles south of Tokyo. A brief guidebook entry hinted that this seaside town might provide the perfect compromise: an ocean for me, the homesick Angeleno, and shrines, temples and culture for Steve. Here we might find our respite and recharge our sagging spirits.

For the most part, guidebooks give short shrift to Kamakura, on the eastern shore of Honshu, the biggest of Japan’s four major islands. They mention that it’s home to some temples and the Great Buddha statue but say little else.

Why the books are so brief isn’t clear. Granted, the suburb isn’t a bustling metropolis, but its attractions are well worth a day trip from Tokyo, if not more.

Kyoto and Nara, more famous for their historical sites, look slightly shabby by comparison. Paint is peeling at the revered Nijo Castle in Kyoto. In Nara, dry rot has damaged the temple surrounding its Great Buddha.

But Kamakura sparkles. Its temples and shrines are immaculate, its gardens well-tended, lush and green. Best of all, the day-tripper has plenty of elbowroom on weekdays, even at the most famous monuments. Schoolchildren and other Japanese tourists, who make up most of Kamakura’s visitors, tend to flock here only on weekends and holidays.

Ironically, the abundance of shrines and temples in this city of 172,000 residents springs from a time of turmoil. In 1192, samurai Minamoto Yoritomo led his clan to victory over the Taira clan, wrested control of the country from the emperor and his court in Kyoto, and moved the government to Kamakura. Thus began the Kamakura shogunate, when samurai, not the emperor, ruled Japan.

The Kamakura shogunate repelled two Mongol invasions in the late 13th century, but a domestic revolt toppled the clan in 1333, and power shifted back to Kyoto. Other shogunates went on to rule Japan until 1867, when Emperor Meiji resumed imperial control.

Today the Kamakura shogunate’s legacy endures in the temples and shrines built during this era. The city is home to 65 Buddhist temples and 19 Shinto shrines, whose beauty is enhanced by rolling hills, the shimmering Pacific and gentle sea breezes--all easily accessible by train from Tokyo.

We wanted to avoid the city’s infamous rush hour, so we left Tokyo Station (one of the main train depots) around 9:30 a.m., arriving in Kamakura 55 minutes later.

Outside Kamakura Station, which is in the center of town, large red buses were queued up waiting for passengers. Most of the city’s main attractions are within walking distance, but Daibutsu, the Great Buddha, is at the top of a long hill.

Eager to get going, we stopped in front of a uniformed police officer directing traffic and pointed to the buses.

“Daibutsu?” Steve asked.

“Hai, Great Buddha,” the officer said with a smile, then pointed to a right bus.

The 10-minute ride west up the hill revealed the layout of the town: ringed by hills on three sides and bound by the ocean to the south, with the train station and downtown in the center. We noted how different Kamakura is from Tokyo: not a sign of neon, nary a cell phone tucked beneath a chin. Here pots of flowers line sidewalks, vines climb over fences and tiled rooftops point toward the sea, as if an ancient developer had given each tiny house a view of the ocean.

Atop the hill, the bus lurched to a stop and the driver yelled, “Daibutsu!” We paid our $1.90 fare upon exiting (as is customary in Japan) and followed clusters of orderly Japanese schoolchildren in sailor-suit uniforms through the gates. Outside the shrine, we used a bamboo ladle to trickle water from a trough over our hands, symbolically purifying ourselves before walking up a wooded path. We emerged from the trees and came to a standstill.

Nothing had prepared us for what towered over the small clearing: the Great Buddha, a 37-foot-tall, 121-ton bronze statue erected in 1252, its surface an elegant greenish-blue patina after centuries of exposure to the sea air.

The story behind the Great Buddha is as compelling as the statue itself. A large temple protected it from the elements until 1495, when a tsunami swept over Kamakura. When the waters receded, the temple was gone, but the Great Buddha remained.

Against the backdrop of green trees and blue sky, the statue looks more dramatic and majestic than Nara’s Great Buddha, which is bigger but housed in a dark, crumbling pagoda. At Kamakura’s statue, bouquets of lilies left as religious offerings perfumed the air, and the faint smell of incense beckoned us to a small temple tucked behind the Great Buddha. Monks in the temple led kimono-clad women in a solemn religious ceremony.

We strolled south down the hill, where the sidewalk is narrow and cluttered with signs for shops hawking ice cream, knickknacks and fake samurai swords. I decided to save my money for downtown shops, which have ceramics, handmade paper and beautifully wrapped, locally produced candy confections that make perfect omiyage, traditional gifts that Japanese tourists get for their hosts or for family and friends back home.

As in other parts of Japan, many smaller streets and alleys in Kamakura are unnamed. The country’s head-scratching address system compounds the problem, so some sites are hard to find even when streets are clearly marked (in this town, only a few signs are in English or romanji, words spelled with Roman letters instead of Japanese characters). Even so, because of its compact layout and the ocean to the south as a landmark, Kamakura is relatively easy to navigate.

At the bottom of the Daibutsu hill, the main thoroughfare veers left. We turned right onto a side street on our way to the Hase Kannon (HA-say KAH-non) Temple a couple of blocks away.

The grounds around the temple, also known as Hasedera, are immaculate and lush. The stark Zen gardens of Kyoto may be dominated by raked gravel and strategically placed boulders, but at Hase Kannon, a stream trickles into carp-filled Hosho Pond. Birds chirp, and a profusion of flowers blossoms in beds and along pathways. Magnolias, peonies and azaleas bloom, and Dutch irises sway in the breeze.

Hase Kannon Temple dates to 721, when a monk carved a camphor tree to create the image of Kannon, a bodhisattva, or person of great wisdom and infinite compassion. Visitors can see the 29-foot-tall sculpture’s 11 faces, which represent different stages of enlightenment. They point in all directions, symbolizing her ability to hear prayers and save souls wherever they may be.

Near Hosho Pond, which dominates the entrance to the temple grounds, a rack of good-luck charms stands outside Benzaiten Hall and Grotto, so named for the goddess of feminine beauty and wealth. We ventured into the adjacent, dark cave, where incense burned and visitors had left thousands of tiny Benzaiten statues--eight-armed figures the size of chess pieces--as offerings along the damp walls.

We emerged from the grotto, momentarily blinded by the midafternoon sun, and climbed stone stairs set into the hill. Before us stood Jizo Hall, a beguiling shrine.

In a small outcropping shaded by trees, thousands of foot-high stone statues of Jizo, the patron saint of departed children, were lined up on steep terraces. Parents seeking goodwill for their children had decorated many of these statues with tiny handmade outfits. Guides told us that a substantial number were tributes to aborted or miscarried children.

We spent more than a half-hour strolling the rows of statues, pointing out unusual costumes and trinkets left beside them. Their diminutive stature contrasted sharply with the grand temples and the Great Buddha nearby. The sheer number of Jizo statues was staggering, creating the effect not of sorrow but of hope.

Afterward we took turns spinning what we thought was a giant prayer wheel. The large wooden “wheel” was actually a revolving library of the temple’s Buddhist scriptures. We left the temple grounds, walking about a quarter mile to the beach. The coast here is a bit industrial, flanked by small commercial buildings and utilitarian walls. Still, after a week of pounding Tokyo sidewalks, we liked getting our toes sandy. We watched local surfers wax their boards and paddle out for a wave big enough to carry them back in.

A couple of blocks from the beach we found the old Hase Station, a depot where we caught a different train line--an old-fashioned, narrow-gauge track--back into town. For about a dollar apiece, Steve and I rested while the train clanked past residential neighborhoods on the way to Kamakura Station.

The day was winding down, and our feet were beginning to give out. We caught a 4:30 p.m. train back to Tokyo, just in time to discover one last bonus about Kamakura. It’s near the end of the train line, so you’re sure to get a seat for what becomes a jam-packed rush-hour ride in Tokyo.

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GUIDEBOOK

Path to Buddha

Getting there: Kamakura is a side trip for travelers to Tokyo. All Nippon (ANA), Delta, Japan (JAL), Korean, Northwest, Malaysian, Singapore, Thai and United airlines offer nonstop service from LAX to Tokyo. Round-trip fares start at $750.

Getting around: From Tokyo Station, take Japan Railways’ Yokosuka line to Kamakura (about 55 minutes, no transfers). Round trip is about $13 per person. Many streets in Kamakura are unnamed, unmarked or labeled only with Japanese characters; finding places by address is nearly impossible. It’s best to ask for directions.

Touring the sights: Daibutsu (Great Buddha) is open 7 a.m. to 5:45 p.m. daily. Hase Kannon Temple is open 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. daily March to September, until 4:30 p.m. October to February. Admission to each attraction is about $3. Pick up maps at Kamakura Station.

Where to stay: Like most visitors, we didn’t stay overnight in Kamakura because of its proximity to Tokyo. But guidebooks recommend Ryokan Ushio, a Japanese-style inn near Kamakura Station. The rate is about $50 per person per night, excluding meals; telephone 011-81- 0467-22-7016.

Where to eat: We snacked at tourist spots, but casual eateries serving more substantial fare line the streets near Kamakura Station. Guidebooks also recommend Monzen, a vegetarian restaurant right by Kitakamakura Station (one train stop north of downtown Kamakura), local tel. 25-1121.

For more information: Japan National Tourist Office, 515 Figueroa St., Suite 1470, Los Angeles, CA 90017; tel. (213) 623-1952. Information also can be found on the Internet at https://www.city.kamakura .kanagawa.jp/english/index2 .htm.