In the final part of our series on the great temples of Nara, we look at the picturesque precinct of Toshodai-ji temple and the flowering of cultural ties that began to flourish between Japan and China during the Nara Period

Toshodai-ji's Main Hall (Kondo)

The temple of Toshodai-ji is little-known to foreign visitors, yet it played a significant role in the development of Buddhist doctrine from the second half of the 8^th century AD onwards. The story of its founder, the venerable Chinese-priest Ganjin, caused as much sensation as would the products of his Buddhist teachings. Ganjin arrived from China at a time when religious education in Japan seemed to be in terminal decline. His appearance at the Japanese court in 754 AD followed his acceptance of an invitation from Emperor Shomu to reform the religious curriculum throughout Japan and to implement an ordination programme for new Buddhist priests.

The Ordination Platform

The story of Ganjin’s tumultuous journey to Japan bears a striking resonance to the misfortunes of the eponymous hero of Homer’s epic poem “The Odyssey”. Together with his retinue of trusted disciples, Ganjin would spend ten years attempting to cross the Great China Sea – as such, this was to become an odyssey that would have broken the will of less determined and loyal men. Battered by storm and sea, the band of redoubtable priests lost five ships and even suffered the humiliation of temporary imprisonment by barbarians in the southern Hainan islands. However, Ganjin’s perseverance finally paid off, though he had paid a sorry price for his considerable endeavours – his sight having been lost as a result of constant exposure to the elements.

Ganjin's Grave

A gift from the Japanese emperor, Ganjin would develop the grounds of Toshodai-ji as the new headquarters of his unique Buddhist sect. The centre of worship here is the dazzling Kondo, the main hall, which now dominates one of Nara’s most sublime and relaxing landscapes. Its tall roof lends the space a harmonious, yet powerful, feeling of splendour and monumentality. The distinctive style of the building owes its origins to the Chinese T’ang Dynasty model and it remains one of the most brilliant examples of Nara Period architecture anywhere in Japan. Some would argue that it is the most beautiful wooden building in the Far East.

The Bell Tower & Rear of the Main Hall

The interior of the Kondo was considered to be the sacred home of Buddha. Its principal icons were meant to be seen by worshippers looking in through the open bays of its facade. Through the three central bays the visitor can view three powerfully rendered statues. Occupying the centre of the Buddhist Universe is the seated image of Vairocana Buddha, accompanied by images of two of his traditional Bodhisattvas – the 1,000 armed Kannon and Yakushi Nyorai.  The Buddha image is a magnificently gilded, hollowed-out, dry-lacquer statue. Its halo was once adorned with no fewer than one thousand small buddhas, the majority of which have survived intact. The entire ensemble is completely Chinese in form, having undoubtedly been crafted by Ganjin’s Chinese followers.

The Lecture Hall (Kodo)

The Kondo was most probably connected to the Kodo – the ‘Lecture Hall’ – by a series of cloisters. This was the temple’s main centre of learning. Inside, the elegant curvature of the double rainbow beams supporting the roof was a common element in Nara Period architecture – though its origins came from China. The interior woodwork was once painted in red, though no trace of colour has survived. The ambulatory provides a perfect platform from which to view the eclectic collection of statuary housed here. The predominant influence from T’ang Dynasty Buddhist statuary is clearly reflected in the more rounded shapes of the figures. This assortment of badly disfigured statues lends the room a distinct unearthly atmosphere and is a far cry from the hall’s 8^th century description: “It had been magnificent with gold, silver, vermilion and jewels …. Just like a heavenly Palace”.

In this the second part of my exploration of the ancient Japanese capital city of Nara, we pay a visit to the magnificent precinct of the temple of Todai-ji, the showcase and guiding force behind the imperial statewide system of Buddhist temples in 8^th century Japan.

The majority of visitors to the parklands of Nara tend to gravitate towards the monumental temple precinct of Todai-ji. Most enter through the main southern gateway, which was re-built in the Chinese classical style in 1199. Inside this imposing structure stand two powerful and energetic statues of the “Kongo Rikishi”, the “Guardian Kings of the Faith”.

The Nandaimon ("Great South Gate")

These imposing images strike dramatically naturalistic and quite fearsome postures, befitting their roles as divine temple protectors. Many visitors simply pass through the towering portal, barely noticing these foreboding sentinels. However, it pays to stand awhile in admiration of the supreme artistic quality of these masterpieces of Kamakura Period sculpture.

Statue of the one of the "Kongo Rikishi"

At the heart of the Todai-ji complex stands the magnificent Daibutsuden (“Great Buddha Hall”), built primarily as an exhibition hall for a colossal statue of the Cosmic Buddha, Vairocana. The driving force behind both hall and statue was Emperor Shomu, one of Japan’s greatest architectural visionaries.

The Daibutsuden

Completed in 752 AD, the Daibutsuden was the centerpiece of Todai-ji, one of the largest and most important religious complexes ever seen in Japan. The temple soon became the engine-room for state sponsored religion and was the head of the national temple hierarchy. According to Buddhist philosophy, an undertaking on this scale would certainly have legitimized the emperor’s right to rule. Furthermore, it served to ensure divine protection for his empire at a time when Japan had been ravaged by a deadly outbreak of smallpox and a devastating series of earthquakes.

Nowadays, the Daibutsuden is regularly referred to as being the largest timber-framed building in the world. Yet most visitors don’t realise that the original structure was substantially bigger than the present edifice, being one and a half times wider and 12m taller. In founding Todai-ji, the Emperor’s ambition had reached unprecedented levels. In fact, his excessive use of national resources had taken the country to the brink of economic collapse.

Great Statue of Buddha Vairocana

As the central icon for Todai-ji, the great Buddha statue commanded both the heart of the temple and the centre of the buddhist universe. Today, visitors flock to the hall to marvel more at the scale, rather than at the beauty, of Buddha. The passage of time has dealt the image a rather unfortunate hand. On more than one occasion, the statue has, quite literally, ‘lost its head’. When the famous poet Basho visited the temple in 1682, he was shocked to find Buddha lying headless in the open air, having been toppled over onto its side. Little of the original was saved from the great fire that decimated the temple in 1567. That same fire also destroyed the rest of the hall’s celebrated interior – including groups of richly-painted buddha statues that once adorned its walls. Today’s great Buddha is a composite statue that dates mainly to the 17^th century Edo Period. Artistically, it bears none of the refined grace and warmth of its 8^th century predecessor.

As capital of Japan in the 8^th century, Nara presided over a golden age for great temple institutions. These religious leviathans not only helped the imperial household to spread the word of Buddhism, but they also served as the driving-force for state-sponsored propaganda. Powerful foundations such as Todai-ji also brought the Emperor additional benefits in terms of divine protection and spiritual well-being, in addition to vast income that accrued from the temple estates.

Additional highlights at Todai-ji:

The Sangatsudo (“Hall of the Third Month”), which principally serves as an exhibition hall for a collection of fine 8^th century esoteric statues, recovered from various temple buildings following their destruction.

The Nigatsudo (“Hall of the Second Month”), which was the temple’s Kannon Hall. Today the hall is the location for the traditional fire-festival of “O-mizu-tori”, in which the resident monks, bearing flaming torches, make a procession of the temple verandah as collective penance before Kannon for the the sins of mankind.

Part I: Horyu-ji

The Japanese drew considerable political, religious and cultural inspiration from the peoples on the Asian mainland, not least in their adoption of Buddhism and the Chinese system writing. By the late fifth century AD, the teachings of Buddha Sakyamuni had spread from India as far the distant shores of Korea, and it is around this time that we see the first signs of Buddhism filtering into Japanese society. With it came political ideology, based on the Chinese system of government. The first Japanese capital, inspired by the Chinese urban model, was founded at Fujiwara in 694 AD. This new city was short-lived and was quickly superseded in 710 by the move to a new capital city at Heijo, just to the west of the modern day city of Nara.

Approach to the Horyu-ji precinct

With direct patronage from the Emperor, in addition to private financial sponsorship from influential members of the aristocracy, Nara became the national centre for a host of mighty religious institutions. Such was the dominance of the so-called “Great Seven” Buddhist Temples at Nara that the imperial household took the bold decision to relocate the capital once more in order to suppress the power wielded by the religious classes. Despite having had their wings clipped, the Nara clergy continued to flourish, though on a lesser scale than they had previously enjoyed. Their enduring legacy is apparent in the magnificence of their monuments that continue to grace the Nara parklands.

The Middle Gate ('Chumon')

Origins of Horyu-ji

The temple precinct of Horyu-ji is, without doubt, one of Japan’s premier historical sites. As with many of the early temple establishments at Nara, Horyu-ji was located in a southerly facing area, protected by the hills to the north. Crown Prince Shotoku, reputed to be the ‘father’ of Buddhism in Japan, chose this secluded countryside for the site of his palace-temple, with construction beginning in 601 AD. However, an entry in the Nihon Shoki, the historical Chronicle of Japan for 720, records that Shotoku’s precinct had been destroyed in a fire in 670.

The Guardian King Akei

A new Horyu-ji temple was planned early in the reign of Emperor Temmu and was situated just to the west of the burned-out temple of Shotoku, with the present-day main hall being completed in around 673. Within the next twenty years, the temple had resumed its function as a religious institution – just in time for it to take part in the celebration of a new  Buddhist scripture, the Ninno-kyo.

Main Temple Precinct

Horyu-ji’s inner precinct is defined by a broad, semi-enclosed corridor or cloister. Standing at the heart of this precinct of the temple are the two key components of the temple – the five-storey pagoda and the main hall (‘kondo’).

Main Hall ('Kondo')

Following the destruction of the temple by the fire in 670, its replacement would lead to a radical departure from earlier architectural blueprints. Traditionally, the pagoda and the main hall would have been arranged behind the main entrance gate, aligned symmetrically along the traditional north-south axis of the complex. Here, at the reconstructed Horyu-ji, they stand side by side along the east-west axis of the central compound. The spatial relationship between them has created a somewhat striking, yet harmonious, juxtaposition. This arrangement undoubtedly appealed to Japanese aesthetic sensibilities of the time, and certainly highlights the difference between the soaring height of the pagoda and the lower, bulkier frame of the hall.

A Portmanteau of the life of Buddha

The pagoda had commanded a crucial role in the design of the very earliest Japanese temples and was inspired by the shape of the Indian stupa. The Horyu-ji pagoda is roughly twice as tall as the main hall. Its upper levels are progressively reduced in size, to the extent that the fifth storey is roughly half the size of the ground floor. This technique lends the building an ethereal touch, as it soars mightily towards heaven.

Horyu-ji's Pagoda

The pagoda was intended to contain holy Buddhist relics, thus enhancing the sanctity of the temple. Unfortunately, these ancient reliquaries are buried deep within the foundations of the Horyu-ji pagoda and cannot now be excavated. The small groups of unbaked clay figurines inside the ground floor of the pagoda were added during a round of repairs made to the temple in 711. Depicting episodes from the life and death of Buddha, these montages are arranged around a model of Mount Sumeru, the centre of the Buddhist Universe.

On account of its exquisite state of preservation and its wealth of artistic treasures, Horyu-ji simply has very few equals. Dating back to the Asuka Period (552-710 AD), this spectacular complex contains some of the most stunning examples of early Japanese wooden architecture, and can lay strong claim to being home to the world’s oldest wooden buildings.

The Temple of Karnak

This hugely outstanding collection of monuments is unparalleled anywhere in Egypt. For most visitors, there is simply too much to see here, with the average tour barely lasting long enough to scratch the surface. Even within the temple’s pièce de résistance, the grand Hypostyle Hall, tour parties hardly have time to recover from the hypnotizing power conjured up by this ambitious forest of columns, before they are whisked off down its imposing central nave to marvel at the next architectural treasure on offer.

Interior of Hypostyle Hall

I don’t propose to dwell here on the achievements of the ancient architects and engineers responsible for the construction of the Hypostyle Hall, suffice it to say that this was probably the most ambitious building project of the reign of Seti I (c. 1296-1279 B.C.). The subject of this short piece is to draw the reader’s attention to the magnificent series of imposing battle scenes that Seti had carved in his honour on the exterior northern wall of the hall.

Seti astride his chariot

Following any Egyptian success on the battlefield, the engines of the empire’s vast propaganda machines would have been fired into action in an effort to maximum public exposure for Pharaoh’s physical and military prowess. Throughout the New Kingdom (c. 1549-1064 B.C.), the exterior walls of many temples often served as giant billboards, ablaze with the king’s personal achievements and (to a far lesser extent) those of his armies.

Pharaoh smiting his enemies

Here on the external wall of the Hypostyle Hall, Seti I celebrated the success of a series of military campaigns conducted against the Syrians and Libyans. Known collectively as his “Northern Wars”, these richly realistic scenes provide an (unfortunately) incomplete documentary record concerning a number of wars fought by the king in the early years of his reign.

The wall was originally divided into six individual registers, three either side of the central doorway leading into the hall. Five of the original six registers have survived, with the upper register of the east side having been completely destroyed. The actual number of separate campaigns being celebrated here is still open to debate. So too is the dating of these events, with only one scene bearing a date in Seti’s first regnal year.

The action of each register starts at its outer edge and runs inwards towards the central doorway. Typically, they begin with Pharaoh preparing for war, followed by the main event – the battle – and ending with the king presenting the spoils of war before Amenre on his return to the Temple of Karnak.

From a historical and political perspective, these reliefs, and their accompanying inscriptions, are hugely significant. They are a clear testament to the vigour with which Seti sought to repair Egyptian domination in the northern territories of Syria-Palestine and in the west, along the Mediterranean seaboard into modern-day Libya. For anyone interested in military history, or in Egypt’s response to the growing opposition to her interests in these regions at the beginning of the 19^th Dynasty, then these striking reliefs are a “must-see”.

For over thirteen centuries (c. 2500-1170 B.C.) the Egyptian record bears witness to the existence of a territory and people located in east Africa whose name is usually rendered as ‘Punt’ in most modern writings.

Egypt’s Trade with Punt

Apart from Nubia, located on the Nile south of Egypt, Punt is the sole African land with so ancient a history, traceable back into the third millennium B.C. Its appearance in the Egyptian documentation usually concerns the trade in exotic goods between Egypt and Punt. The fullest list of Puntite products appears in the New Kingdom reliefs of Hatshepsut (see further below). They include herbs, myrrh, frankincense, resin, ebony, ivory, gold, other woods, eye paint, various fauna and people. Literary references alluding to the odours of Punt emphasize the dominance of aromatics amongst the goods traded.

Geographic Location and Peoples

Map showing the location of Punt

Despite a century of scholarly discussion, the land of Punt is still ‘of no fixed address’. However, there is seemingly a virtually conclusive case for placing Punt between the Red Sea and the middle Nile, occupying a large area on the north and northwest flanks of the Ethiopian highlands in east Sudan.

The main Puntite population was mixed. Besides the so-called ‘Hamitic’ type, not very different from the Egyptians in appearance, others represented were clearly of African stock, in hues of brown and near-black. Their pile-dwelling homes, clear presence of domesticated cattle and the references to ‘chiefs’ (plural) may well indicate a country and culture of scattered villages, inhabited by cattle-herding pastoralists, trading in aromatics grown on the hill terraces.

Hatshepsut’s Expedition to Punt

The earliest clear-cut reference to Punt comes at the height of the ‘Pyramid Age’ in the reign of Sahure of the 5^th Dynasty (c. 2450 B.C.). Further mention of Punt occurs sporadically in both royal and private records of the Old and Middle Kingdoms. For the New Kingdom (late second millennium B.C.) our historical contacts with Punt are fourfold.

In this article we will deal with the most famous of the four examples – the Punt expedition sent by Queen Hatshepsut, which is immortalised in the beautifully wrought reliefs in her memorial temple at Deir el-Bahari in West Thebes. The Queen announced the success of her expedition in a special sitting of her court in her 9^th year. The motivation for the mission appears to have been a desire to cut out the middlemen in obtaining supplies of ‘the marvels of Punt’, primarily aromatics such as incense and myrrh for use in the temple cults.

Hatshepsut's ships navigating the Red Sea

A schematic representation of the land of Punt occupies the entire south-end wall of the Middle Colonnade (to be read from bottom to top). The first two registers show the Egyptian envoy meeting the local chiefs in Punt and the presentation of gifts and trade-goods. The only chief shown is Parahu, accompanied by his ample wife. In the second register the Egyptian envoy receives the Puntite goods, symbolized by a heap of myrrh, trays of gold rings and pieces of ebony wood.

Relief of the Queen of Punt (Deir el-Bahari)

The upper four registers show the hewing of ebony, the collecting of myrrh and the removal of myrrh shrubs, as well as illustrating the fauna (baboon, giraffe, rhino, cattle, dogs, donkeys) and the flora, besides domed pile-dwellings.

Getting to Punt

Hatshepsut’s expedition was ordered by Theban Amun, hence it may well have begun and ended at the Nile quays of Thebes. If so, Hatshepsut’s men may first have taken their boats and goods through the Wadi Hammamat to reach the shore of the Red Sea. Here at the port of Sa’waw harbour (Mersa Gawâsîs) they would have re-assembled the Thebes-built ships and then sailed on to Punt. On their return, they would have again trans-shipped everything overland from the seacoast to Koptos, and have sailed thence south to a ceremonial home-coming at Thebes.

Watercolour by Howard Carter of Queen Ahmes, mother of Hatshepsut

It was only whilst discussing the location of what the ancient Egyptians called “God’s Land”, or Punt, that I was introduced to the Periplus Maris Erythraei. Although the term “Erythraei” translates as the “Red Sea”, for the Greeks it also included the Persian Gulf and the western part of the Indian Ocean. The original text of this unique document was written by an anonymous Egyptian Greek merchant in the middle of the first century AD.  Its content now only survives through a manuscript in the Heidelberg’s Universitäts Bibliothek, which was copied at the beginning of the 10^th century.

Map of the seaways covered by the 'Periplus' (Abraham Ortelius)

Written from firsthand experience and with a detailed knowledge of marine navigation, the Periplus was clearly intended to serve as a indispensable manual for other merchants trading out of Roman Egypt from the Red Sea ports of Myos Hormos and Berenicê.  It is clear that the author had visited most, if not all, of the ports mentioned in his treatise. Divided into two sections, the books covers the two principle trade routes leaving the Red Sea. The first traced the eastern shores of Africa right down to the port that is probably to be identified with Rhapta, just south of Dar es Salaam in Tanzania. The second concerns the easterly route taken via southern Arabia, past the Persian Gulf and over to the west coast of India.

The Red Sea Coastline

Serving primarily as an essential navigational aid for other Egyptian traders operating  along these trades routes, the Periplus is packed full of invaluable insights concerning the key ports that one might visit. It also describes the location of anchorage points for the seafarers to land and unload their produce. The author delights in his lively descriptions of the principal entrepôts that he has discovered during his own voyages, even including amusing anecdotes about the rulers with whom one might be expected to do business. Very much in the manner of a foreign embassy issuing a travel alert today, he is ever mindful of warning his fellow merchants of any dangers that a particular region might present!

Most importantly, the author lists at great length the various goods on offer in the marketplaces of each destination, in addition to the range of products that the local rulers were interested in acquiring. We’re not talking about inexpensive everyday items here. These were prized luxury items. Returning from the east African coast merchants would have brought back ivory, rhinoceros horns, tortoise shells, myrrh, frankincense, cassia, aromatics, drugs and slaves; whilst the southern Arabian peninsula was well-known for the quality of its myrrh and frankincense.

The emporia of India feature the most extensive lists of produce, including turquoise, lapis lazuli, pearls, diamonds, sapphires, silk cloth, fine cotton clothing, Chinese pelts, pepper, spices and various other aromatics. A single cargo would have generated substantial profits for the shipowners, as well as a sizeable import duty for the Roman empire. These guys were the LVMH traders par excellence of the ancient world.

The most recent edition of the text is presented, together a translation and concise grammatical and lexicographical commentaries, in Lionel Casson’s excellent The Periplus Maris Erythraei: Text with Introduction, Translation and Commentary, Princeton University Press, 1989.

Please check back soon for a guest article on the land of Punt by Kenneth A. Kitchen, Emeritus Professor of Egyptology at the University of Liverpool.

Leaving the temple precinct of Nanzen-ji in central Kyoto, I headed north on foot along the pretty canal-side path that is now more famously known as the Philosopher’s Walk. Come springtime, this delightful walkway is one of the city’s most popular venues for hanami, or cherry blossom viewing parties. This early in the morning the path was eerily quiet, though pleasantly so, allowing me ample time to reflect on my memorable visit the previous day to Kinkaku-ji and its fabulous “Golden Pavilion”. My plan was to arrive at Ginkaku-ji, the “Temple of the Silver Pavilion”, in plenty of time to beat the crowds and to absorb the beauty of its gardens in peaceful solitude.

Ginkaku-ji was designed by the eighth Ashikaga shogun, Yoshimasa, as a private retreat and residence. Meticulous planning, using a bold synthesis of Japanese architecture and landscaping, turned the grounds of this estate into one of Kyoto’s most enchanting garden sanctuaries. As a faithful patron of the arts, Yoshimasa devoted his energies more towards leisurely and cultural pursuits than to events within the political arena. He spent much time on planning his new villa here in this district of north-east Kyoto, on expanding his collection of fine Chinese paintings and ceramics, and in indulging in nō-drama, calligraphy and elaborate tea ceremonies.

The Shogun's Silver Pavilion

The long pathway leading from the temple’s entrance gateway is a curiously unassuming affair and nothing like the grand approaches seen in early religious complexes. On either side, tall bamboo fencing and neatly trimmed hedging rise steeply to create a tunnel that appears at first to be leading into a dead-end. In fact, it was only as I approached the end of this corridor that I realized that it actually turned sharply to the left, bringing me out in front of the “Chinese” middle gate. The imposing height of the hedges is a deliberate architectural device, intended to allow the visitor a few peaceful moments to reflect, and to cleanse the mind before entering the garden-paradise beyond. It also has the effect of intensifying anticipation of what lies within.

Timing my arrival to perfection, I found the exquisite temple grounds almost free of visitors. The garden is actually split into two distinct parts. As I entered through the middle gateway, I was faced with the temple’s famous “dry-garden” landscape. This rather enigmatic, though later architectural addition to the estate, consists of two mounds of white sand. The large flat area of sand is better known as the Ginshadan – “The Sea of Silver Sand Platform”. It was my good fortune to be able to witness a pair of temple priests in the process of meticulously raking this platform. For them, this is a daily ritual task, designed to create a brand-new illusion of a seascape. It is laborious work, requiring much concentration, a steady hand and considerable skill. Even my sudden presence was unable to break the gardeners’ steadfast focus.

View of the Temple Gardens

Legend has it that the surface of the Ginshadan was created to reflect the light of the moon as it rises above the nearby Higashi-yama mountain, in homage to the moon-viewing parties once held on the estate by Yoshimasa. The silhouette of the smaller conical feature, the Kogetsudai or the “Mound Facing the Moon”, has often been compared with Mount Fuji. More likely is that, when viewed from the second floor of the Silver Pavilion, its upper surface mirrors the reflection of the moon on the surface of the pond nearby. There is little doubt that when seen under moonlight, both of these rather incongruous elements would exude a certain allure.

With the dry garden behind me, I found myself on the rocky bank of a beautifully composed “pond garden”, heavily planted with camellias and azaleas. Here the designer has made ample use of a complex assortment of peninsulas and islands, all connected to the shoreline by a series of ancient stone bridges. The clever use of pines, dwarfed by many years of intricate pruning, helps to define scale and depth, giving the impression that the garden is grander than it actually is.

The Ginshadan, "Sea of Silver Sand Platform"

Overlooking the pond here is the Togu-do, one of only two of the original estate buildings to have survived. Yoshimasa used the Togu-do as his own private living quarters and as a holy shrine dedicated to Amida Buddha, a popular divinity of endless light and infinite life. More importantly, part of the building also served as a venue for the shogun’s private tea ceremonies and may well have been the prototype for future tea rooms that flourished throughout Japan from this period onwards.

I followed the narrow, winding pathway next to the Togu-do up a steep slope and through the upper sections of the garden. From this vantage point the views of the garden, and the city beyond, were simply breathtaking. As was common with this type of “stroll” garden, the path has been shaped using a series of flat, highly polished rocks. This is a clever device that is designed to slow down one’s progress, thereby allowing the visitor to appreciate the garden from a variety of different perspectives. I was impressed by the numerous rocks formations and the wide variety of trees and plants on display, many of which Yoshimasa had appropriated from other religious institutions around Kyoto. Much of the inspiration for the design of this elegant stroll garden sprang from Yoshimasa’s admiration for the intimate temple garden of Saiho-ji, a famous estate that sought to combine earthly pleasures with those that awaited one in the Buddhist paradise or “nirvana”. The Ginkaku-ji was Yoshimasa’s own private corner of paradise, one which he stunningly manufactured through the use of countless plant specimens, including a whole host of mosses, cypresses, maples, camellias, plum trees and rare pines.

Kogetsudai, "Mound Facing the Moon"

Heading around the southern tip of the pond, the final destination on my tour was the Ginkaku – the “Silver Pavilion”. Built in the shoin or residential-style, its restrained architecture was inspired by contemporary zen buddhist principles and had been modeled on one of many pavilions found at Saiho-ji. It’s not silver, and never has been for that matter! The name seems to have resulted from an anecdote that Yoshimasa had originally planned to enrobe his pavilion in silver leaf. Primarily, Yoshimasa used the Ginkaku as a place for zen meditation and moon-viewing parties. Even now the place conjures up the distant echo of the shogun as he sat out here on one of the verandahs composing these famously poignant lines:

My lodge is at the foot of the Moon Viewing Hill

Almost, I regret when the shortening hill shadow, at length, disappears

Ginkaku-ji is a delightful blend of garden styles and a wonderful sanctuary in which to spend an hour or two retreating from the frantic demands of the city. It’s certainly a place that I intend to visit again, when next in Kyoto.

Click here for an audio guide of Ginkaku-ji.