Year of the Boar
It was a brisk winter day in Kyoto. I had met up with Wilkie, Sarah, and Lydia that morning to explore the former capital of the Japanese empire. It turns out that while Europe was trying to remember how to take care of itself after the fall of the Roman Empire, Japan was buliding magnificent castles and temples, many of which stand to this day.
It was later in the afternoon. The sun had already passed over the mountainside, casting an orange glow over the forested path. Wilkie and Sarah had already left to Hello Kitty Land, an amusement park/temple complex built to edify Sanrio's most famous creation. Lydia and I walked out of town towards the mountain, in search of nowhere in particular. She was a union organizer in central Pennsylvania. She was of Jewish ancestry, but raised in Wisconsin. This gave her the quiet, yet warm and wholesome demeanor I have come to admire.
The path was bordered by rows of houses built on the side of the hill. The signs pointed toward onsen hot springs, as well as a shrine unmarked on our map. We never found the hot spring, but the shrine was reward enough for our short hike.
It was as though we had walked 40 miles outside the urban sprawl of Kyoto, though in reality it was likely only one. A small waterfall came from the mountain, with a crude bridge formed of corrugated iron led out to the pool at the bottom. Trees grew all around the area, dropping the temperature a few degrees. The dimmed sunlight gave contrast for the electric lanterns that marked the path.Visitors were invited to rinse in the pool, though the weather prevented one from answering the invitation. We spent our time making the obligatory small talk; my understanding is that we didn't really hit it off, but that may just be a result of our reserved personalities. It's hard to say.
Our way back from the shrine was silent, a rare occurrence in this land. From one of the gardens attached to the houses, a black figure jumped down to the street below, blocking our path to the city. I thought it was a large dog, so I delayed my action. Dogs here are not friendly to foreigners: I imagine it's our smell. Lydia moved to my flank and whispered
'It's a wild boar'
And so it was. The fading light barred any detailed inspection, but it was clearly of porcine shape and form. The beast stopped and looked towards us, street lights reflecting in his steely eyes.
He snorted, and we remained still.
The boar turned and continued through another person's yard, down towards the stream. I crept behind to watch it go, but it had disappeared into the grass. A few moments of reflection, and we continued down into the heart of this ancient city.
True story. Happy New Year.
It was later in the afternoon. The sun had already passed over the mountainside, casting an orange glow over the forested path. Wilkie and Sarah had already left to Hello Kitty Land, an amusement park/temple complex built to edify Sanrio's most famous creation. Lydia and I walked out of town towards the mountain, in search of nowhere in particular. She was a union organizer in central Pennsylvania. She was of Jewish ancestry, but raised in Wisconsin. This gave her the quiet, yet warm and wholesome demeanor I have come to admire.
The path was bordered by rows of houses built on the side of the hill. The signs pointed toward onsen hot springs, as well as a shrine unmarked on our map. We never found the hot spring, but the shrine was reward enough for our short hike.
It was as though we had walked 40 miles outside the urban sprawl of Kyoto, though in reality it was likely only one. A small waterfall came from the mountain, with a crude bridge formed of corrugated iron led out to the pool at the bottom. Trees grew all around the area, dropping the temperature a few degrees. The dimmed sunlight gave contrast for the electric lanterns that marked the path.Visitors were invited to rinse in the pool, though the weather prevented one from answering the invitation. We spent our time making the obligatory small talk; my understanding is that we didn't really hit it off, but that may just be a result of our reserved personalities. It's hard to say.
Our way back from the shrine was silent, a rare occurrence in this land. From one of the gardens attached to the houses, a black figure jumped down to the street below, blocking our path to the city. I thought it was a large dog, so I delayed my action. Dogs here are not friendly to foreigners: I imagine it's our smell. Lydia moved to my flank and whispered
'It's a wild boar'
And so it was. The fading light barred any detailed inspection, but it was clearly of porcine shape and form. The beast stopped and looked towards us, street lights reflecting in his steely eyes.
He snorted, and we remained still.
The boar turned and continued through another person's yard, down towards the stream. I crept behind to watch it go, but it had disappeared into the grass. A few moments of reflection, and we continued down into the heart of this ancient city.
True story. Happy New Year.