The Lama Temple

    
       Beijing has to be one of the world's most stressful cities. Its sheer size can be overwhelming, while the volume of people and traffic defies belief. Crossing one of the city’s immense avenues amounts to taking a leap of faith: you need to look in about eight different directions, and there’s a fair chance the drivers won’t stop when the light turns red. Taking the subway, while preferable to a taxi ride, can involve a no-holds barred battle to get on and off the train. Shoving your way past old women appears to be perfectly acceptable behaviour.

       In light of the above, first-timers may well feel there is no escape from

Yonghe Gate Hall

the mind-blowing stress that pervades life in China's capital. Happily, this is not the case, for those seeking a respite can head to the Lama Temple. 

          This famous lamasery is located in the city centre, close to Yonghegong Station, which sits on subway lines 2 and 5. The subway ride there will set you back just 2 RMB (roughly 20 pence). Once outside the station, the route to the temple takes you along a street which is an experience in itself. On either side of the road there are countless tiny shops where you can purchase incense sticks, miniature Buddhas, bead necklaces and other curios. Shabby street vendors peddle similar items, and you may well encounter someone playing the erhu, a two-stringed traditional instrument.

          Having paid 25 RMB for your ticket, you enter the temple grounds through a multi-coloured memorial gate, replete with images of yellow dragons. Beyond lies an avenue bordered by gingko trees, sadly denuded in winter, but yellow and strikingly beautiful in autumn. A handsome second gate (the Zhaotai Gate) is situated at the end of the avenue. Its vermilion walls are surmounted by a sloping roof of cylindrical yellow tiles; with the passage of time the paint is flaking away, leaving patches of grey. Among the wonderfully detailed mythical creatures that adorn the ridges of the roof are phoenixes and dragons. These can be seen on buildings throughout the temple complex.

          Beyond the Zhaotai gate lie dim prayer halls housing Buddhas and other fascinating statues, including one beaming, bald-headed figure known as the Cloth-bag Monk. The visitor can also enjoy peaceful courtyards where the air is redolent with burning incense and the flagstones are sprinkled with

Zhaotai Gate

ash. Shaven-headed monks in brown robes can be seen sweeping the floors, and you can even hear the chirruping of birds in the trees.

      There are drum and bell towers, handsome cypress trees, bamboo gardens, copper lions, and a five hundred year old bell. If you are willing to part with 10 RMB, the bell will be struck three times, supposedly bringing you good luck. Most famously of all, at the far end of the temple complex soars the giant, eighteen metre high statue of Maitreya, or Future Buddha, which was carved from a single piece of sandalwood. 

 

Copper cooking vessel

         Another curiosity to look out for is an ornate and oversized copper cooking vessel, fashioned in the 18^th century, which features carvings of dragons and devouring lions, and stands amid a sea of coins thrown by visitors in search of good fortune. (A message in Chinese instructs people to refrain from such behaviour, but no one batted an eyelid when a young couple chucked some silver at it during my last visit.)

          While the Lama Temple is not Beijing’s greatest tourist draw, it is nevertheless my favourite place in China’s capital.  A couple of hours inside its walls can restore your faith in humanity, and you may even forget you're in one of the world's most colossal and over-populated metropilises. 

 Practicalities: 

Accommodation: I've never stayed in a hotel in Beijing. 

Restaurants: The food in Beijing is the best I've ever had. My favourite place is Yu Xiang Ren Jia in Parkson department store, which serves explosively flavoursome Sichuan cuisine. The oil-boiled fish, Chongqing style chicken and fish fragrant pork are highlights. Parkson is right next to Fu Xing Men subway station, which is 11 stops from Yonghegong station on line 2. 

Getting to the Lama Temple: There's only one thing for it: take the subway. A ticket costs next to nothing (2 RMB) and while it's often crowded, it beats a taxi ride. 

Fuji

                    The Japanese are loyal to their hometowns. A native of Hamamatsu once told me straight-faced that it was a beautiful city, and that she wished to retire there. I had been to Hamamatsu, and was therefore well aware that it was a rather dull, utilitarian expanse of concrete, home to over half a million people, with little to recommend it other than a pleasant hill-top castle and a sizeable Brazilian community. Even more remarkably, a Japanese colleague once informed me that she preferred the grim industrial city of Fuji, from which she hailed, to Kyoto. Fuji was, she said, ‘quieter’.

              

            This statement struck me as incredible. How could anyone compare Fuji to Kyoto, one of the world’s greatest cities? I spent a year in Fuji, so I write from a position of knowledge, and I can say with no hesitation that my colleague was deeply misguided. A city of a quarter of a million souls, Fuji sits just a hundred miles to the west of Tokyo in Shizuoka Prefecture, but it feels like another world. It was in fact a rather depressing place to live in. I moved there at the end of March 2010, arriving by shinkansen (from Hamamatsu no less) in the company of a drunk Australian, whose first impression was that it was a ‘shithole’. He lasted a mere three months before he quit/was fired and returned to Queensland.

                

Mount Fuji

               While Hamamatsu at least had its castle, Fuji had

practically nothing. Even the view of majestic Mount Fuji, which loomed to the north of the city, was marred by the tide of concrete which swept up its lower slopes. The landscape was replete with factories, smokestacks and soulless architecture. Route 1, the road which led to Tokyo, passed along the southern extremity of the city, close to the sea, where the air was suffused with the pungent and malodorous smell of paper factories. 

               Fuji was, however, not without its curiosities. A single track railway of minor charm, the Gakunan Tetsudo, crossed the city from Enoo, on the eastern edge of Fuji, to JR Yoshiwara train station, which was situated to the south of the city centre. The train usually comprised a single carriage and seemed to attract more than its quota of high school students and very old people. Tickets were printed on cardboard, a quaint touch, although if you got on at Enoo you didn’t need one, for some unexplained reason. The drivers, who doubled as conductors, were irreproachably turned out in uniforms, white gloves and caps, although one or two were partial to a cigarette when the train reached its destination, spoiling their professional image somewhat.

               Riding the Gaku-tetsu gave you a real flavour of Fuji. It took you past the rice fields around Enoo and Sudo, where in summer the evenings resounded to the din of cicadas, over the rocky and generally bone-dry Sudo River, through the dystopian factory district of Hina, and beside the gloomy canals that led to JR Yoshiwara Station. Some of the stations were

Yoshiwara Honchou Station

themselves a little unusual. Yoshiwara Honchou, for instance, comprised a single covered platform separated from a number of dwellings by a train line. I once saw a resident walk along the further side of the line, probably three metres from the platform, and enter his house behind a corrugated iron fence. While the Gaku-tetsu was far from a noisy train, I could never fathom how people could accustom themselves to living a body’s length from a train line.

              

               The nightlife in Fuji was dire. Those seeking a venue in which to drown their sorrows had to choose from one of two principal entertainment districts, neither of which had much to recommend it. The first of these was around JR Fuji station, in the west of the city, where in the evening a handful of suspicious-looking men in suits cooled their heels on the pavement. These denizens of the night would rouse themselves if a group of inebriates happened to pass, and seek to cajole them into squandering tens of thousands of yen in a snack bar. Rumour had it that there was a strong yakuza presence in the handful of streets north of the station, which may have been true, although the only evidence I saw was a couple of besuited and very shady fat men strolling into Mos Burger and acting as if they owned the place.

               The other nightlife hotspot was Yoshiwara Shouten-gai, an arcaded shopping street, and its environs. Here you found more dodgy guys with spiky dyed hair, the occasional group of boozed-up salarymen, dining establishments, and a few awful, deserted bars where you had to pay 600 yen for a beer. My friends and I patronised a few of these initially, before finally settling on a minuscule surfing bar as our preferred hang-out. This establishment, while joyless, had two advantages: the owner spoke English, and he was willing to give a long line of credit to my perpetually skint and intoxicated Australian colleague. There were also massage parlours and ear-cleaning salons, in one of which my Australian friend drunkenly proposed to and was indeed accepted by a masseuse from Taiwan, before being thrown out by the mama-san who ran the place. 

               A friend of mine, who came from Osaka but had moved to Fuji, told me that the climate in Shizuoka was the best in Japan. This was one of the stranger claims I heard while living in Japan, for it soon became apparent that the weather was virtually intolerable between May and September. The

Sudo River

humidity ratcheted up with the arrival of the rainy season, or tsuyu, a time of leaden skies and ferocious downpours that lasted all night, when the rain pounded down with such intensity that I fully expected the roof of my flimsy abode to spring a leak. Following these torrential bouts of rain the air would become less oppressive, but only for a short time, and water would gush over the bed of the Sudo River. The month-long rainy season was the precursor to the relentless sultriness of summer, from which there was no escape. The sweltering heat drove cockroaches indoors, where they scurried along the walls, their hideous antennae quivering in front of them. Enormous dragonflies flew through the sky in groups. The contrast with the mountain town of Takayama, to which I fled one weekend in September and where the nights were cool, was dramatic.

               Still, Fuji was not all bad. It did at least have a Starbucks, although you needed a car to get there. There was also a Chinese noodle shop near City Hall where you could get a plate of gyoza for 100 yen. Even better, there were numerous fine izakaya where you could get pleasantly drunk on beer and ume-shu while snacking on delicious yakitori. Alas, getting home required an exorbitantly expensive taxi ride, for the Gaku-tetsu closed for business at 9.40 p.m.

Practicalities

Accommodation: I wouldn't advocate spending the night in Fuji. 

Restaurants: Bamiyan. Inexpensive and tasty Chinese food, in front of Hon Yoshiwara Station. Staff do not speak English, and may look panic-stricken upon seeing you.

Getting to Fuji: A ticket on the shinkansen from Tokyo Station will set you back 5,240 yen. It's possible (but inadvisable) to take a local train, changing in Atami.

Kyoto

           Kyoto, the former capital of Japan, is one of the world’s greatest cities, a breathtaking treasure trove of historical wonders that stands in glorious contrast to much of the rest of the country. Situated in a basin surrounded by mountains – what the Japanese call bonchi – it can be frigid in winter and uncomfortably hot and sticky in the summer. Visit in the spring or the autumn, however, and the rewards for the traveller are immense: ancient gardens of staggering beauty, limpid water flowing through old stone canals, a seemingly limitless collection of magnificent temples and shrines, and narrow, atmospheric streets by the river that make for wonderfully evocative evening strolls. If you only visit one place in Japan it must be Kyoto. Indeed, a case could be made that Kyoto has more to offer than the rest of Japan combined.  

         Kyoto boasts an almost unparalleled array of fascinating historical attractions:

Koke-dera

you could spend a month here and not run out of such places to visit. Perhaps the most impressive sight of all is the garden at Koke-dera (Moss Temple), in the west of the city, where you follow a stone path through a large walled garden of quite stunning beauty. Thin trees soar high above you, creating a canopy that has allowed the most remarkable carpet of lush green moss to develop over the centuries, while tiny stone bridges, themselves clad in moss, connect the islands in the central pond. Another place of great drama is the Fushimi-Inari shrine complex, where a path winds its way beneath hundreds of orange and black torii gates all the way to the top of a mountain. You can stop in one of the huts along the route and soak up the superb views over the city while enjoying a beer or a cup of Nihon-cha (green tea). Further unforgettable sights include the stark and mysterious rock garden at Ryoan-ji, the graceful temple Kiyomizu-dera, which is perched on a hillside atop interlocking wooden pillars, the stunning ‘Golden Pavilion’, Kinkaku-ji, and the castle Nijo-jo, built five hundred years ago for the shogun Tokugawa Ieyasu and notable for its squeaking ‘nightingale’ floors.

Tenju-an

  As a city of international fame and significance, Kyoto isn’t short of visitors. However, unlike other renowned Japanese tourist spots, such as Nikko, the city is large enough to cope with this influx of humanity, and has so many places of interest that it’s easy to escape the crowds. Indeed, one of the great delights of a trip to Kyoto is coming across little-known temples and gardens that even many Japanese have never heard of, or at least never seen. Tenju-an, a small, secluded temple in the Higashiyama area, is a case in point. It has a wonderful, serene garden that features aged, gnarled trees overhanging a translucent pond, part of which is crossed by a path of giant stepping stones. Clusters of bamboo trees can be seen at the garden’s edge, while the ground next to the path is covered in moss. The surface of the water is broken by one or two lonely rocks. The whole scene is utterly peaceful, and you may well have it almost to yourself. 

    Kyoto is spectacular. However, it is also a modern Japanese city, which means some of it is far from prepossessing. For instance, across the road from Kyoto station looms Kyoto Tower, a distinctly out-of-place red and white spike with a bulbous viewing platform. Wandering the streets of the city centre is unlikely to bring the visitor much aesthetic pleasure either, because it resembles pretty much every other Japanese urban area. But look to the east and you can see the Higashiyama, which is home to untold cultural riches. Kyoto is therefore a city for the energetic. In order to uncover its many glories, you’ve got to put a bit of work in. Get on a bus, take the subway, maybe even the train, or just walk. But when you do reach your destination, you’ll be glad you made the effort.  

     Still, I know what you’re thinking. Kyoto is Japan’s premier tourist attraction, so it’s got to be prohibitively expensive, right? Well, if you’ve got money to burn you could easily do so in Kyoto. Merely travelling around in taxis will set you back a fair amount (although the unfailing politeness of the drivers does ease the pain somewhat). And yet you can spend a week in the city without breaking the bank. For instance, there are some excellent budget to mid-range sleeping options, the best of which are traditional Japanese-style guest houses, or ryokan, where you can sleep on a futon on a floor of tatami mats. Some of these, like the super Ryokan Kyoraku, are just a stone’s throw from the station. Delicious food can also be had at a reasonable price. If sushi or sashimi aren’t your thing, give tonkatsu (deep-fried pork in breadcrumbs) or ramen (Chinese-style noodles) a go. If all else fails you can fall back on good fast-food in the likes of Doutor or Mos Burger. A good place to start is the Porta underground shopping area in front of the station. 

Todai-ji

  A wise traveller might also make Kyoto the base for much of their trip to Japan. It sits in the Kansai region in the west of Honshu, the main island of Japan, in close proximity to some of the country’s other greatest sights. These include Nara, another former capital, where you will find the awesome wooden temple of Todai-ji, which houses the famous bronze Daibutsu (Great Buddha); the ‘white heron’ castle at Himeji, rising majestically above the plains to the west of Kyoto; and the spectacular orange ‘floating torii’ (gate) at Miyajima, across the water from Hiroshima. Kyoto is also a stone’s throw from the port city and nightlife centre of Osaka, and is easily reached by express train from Kansai International Airport, itself a more pleasant point of entry than the more widely-used Narita Airport outside Tokyo.

       Like many others before you, you may find that your first stay in Kyoto merely serves to whet your appetite, leaving you determined to return and discover more of its treasures. It is a truly fantastic place to visit, the finest in Japan.

 Practicalities

Accommodation: Ryokan Kyoraku. Single rooms from 5,600 yen, doubles from 9,200. Ten minutes from Kyoto station, to the right off Karasuma-dori.

Restaurants: Yak and Yeti. Nepalese/Indian cuisine. Turn left off Shijo-dori, just before you reach the Teramachi arcade. 

Getting to Kyoto: From Kansai airport, take the Haruka limited express train. Tickets cost 3,080 yen and the journey lasts an hour and a quarter.