What’s a brick aqueduct doing in a historic wooden temple? 2014-05-30

After visiting Ginkaku-ji, we headed South via the Philosopher's Walk to Nanzen-ji temple. The canal-side route is known for cherry blossoms in spring but is still a pleasing diversion in the hot and humid Kyoto summer. There were even a few animals about, from butterflies, to cats, to ravens, to koi. The east side led up into the same sort of hills that the Silver Pavilion was built on and seemed to hold other older temples, shrines, and estates. The west side seemed more commercial or suburban and is the part you walk through once the path diverges from the canal.

Unlike many of the prior spots we’d visited in Kyoto, the walk was not especially crowded. There was reasonable foot traffic, including the kimono-garbed strollers you see on the left. Walking around in traditional formal garb seemed to come up more in Kyoto than any other part of Japan we visited and did add a fun touch of class to the city.

Taking our time on the journey, we arrived at the sanmon, the grand gate, of Nanzen-ji temple after about an hour.  Most of us took the opportunity to climb to the top; my mother declined, not out of a fear of heights so much as a leeriness of thin steps. The sanmon have impressive views, whether looking at them, from them, or around the upper level. They doubtless have a crowd control function but they tend to stand independent of any walls, making them rather different from city gatehouses.

After paying to climb the tower we did visit the gardens in the back right side and were confounded by the sizable brick aqueduct running through it. Given its historic character, if you know some Japanese history you might correctly place it as Meiji Period (1868-1912) construction. That was a time when Japan invited foreign experts wholesale to visit the country and apply their expertise. This sort of inspiration from outside is a longstanding Japanese cultural tradition but one especially applied to a Western audience after Commodore Perry’s fleet effectively opened up the country. As we would learn later in the Tokyo-Edo Museum, even laying aside later politics these borrowings weren’t always for the best. Brick is far better against fire but by default does little good against earthquakes.