La dérive

Discovery never stops.  I'm on my way to one place, or think I am.  I take a slightly different route, Higashi-oji Dori instead of Hanamikoji Dori.  

I find a tiny shop selling vintage Japanese comic books, action figures and other miscellaneous pop-culture ephemera.  This place is so small, and so packed with stuff there is just enough room to turn around.  The owner is friendly, talkative.  He boasts in his not terrible English of his New York clients.

I continue in a vague southerly direction.  I turn up a street and there at the top is the massive sanmon (main gate) to Chion-in Temple.  This was not on my itinerary.  But these places have a way of drawing you in.  They are not to be ignored; one can't just give them a miss, pass by.  I climb the stairs and enter the world of Jodo Shu buddhism for a couple of hours.  As dusk begins to settle over the Higashiyama mountains and the heavy gates of the temple begin to close I start my dérive again.  

I happen down Yasaka Dori.  There is a little Machiya house with a funny sign outside reading (in English): "I open when I wake up and close when I must sleep.  When I've had enough the store is closed".  Of course I have to see who is behind such a sign, a business model I might have created myself.  Inside I meet Ichimura Mamoru, an old artist who works exclusively in woodblock printing.  This is a Japanese art form in which I have long been interested.  I love the super bold, super flat, almost crude graphic nature of woodblock printing.  His "shop" is basically also his atelier, jars of ink and various printing tools are everywhere.  I like it.  No pretense, no tourist show (or is this the tourist show?)  He immediately hands me a hefty, carved woodblock stained with ink.  Then in broken English he explains the many stages of a full-color print.  His work is impressive, if not terribly original.  There are a few pieces I would buy if I had the dosh because I admire the labor and craft, and because I like Mamoru-san.  I show him my own handmade postcards, sign his guest book and say sayonara.

I continue down the road, right, left, right, left.  I remember an interesting/stylish yakitori place called Yakitori Tarokichi on Yamatooji Dori I had spied on a previous occasion.  The owner is just opening as I arrive.  I order a sake and settle in.  This place is cool.  It was the tiny zen garden that caught my eye a week ago.  I peered through the window and saw a woody contemporary modern meets traditional interior.  The owner explains he is placing a new ad in a Japanese magazine and asks if he can take my photo for it.  I laugh and agree; why not.  The sake is suddenly without charge and a beer arrives shortly thereafter.  Kampai!  The yakitori I order is tamaran (excellent).

This is how the days go in Kyoto.