Let's get lost 2

I still like to get lost.  It's that chance of discovery.  Though after almost six years living in Katsura it's nearly impossible for me to get truly lost.  But I do like to try.  A nice long dérive is good for the mind and body.

It was the French philosopher Guy Debord who conceived la dérive (the drift) in 1956.  It is basically a long, aimless walk where the rover allows him or herself to "be drawn by the attractions of the terrain".  The dérive is closely linked to Debord's theory of urban exploration and pedestrian movement called psychogeography.  What is it in the landscape that guides us when we wander?  Why do we choose this street instead of that street?  Why do we turn left instead of right?  Note: following a coloured line on Google Maps with your smartphone is not a dérive.  You must free yourself of all conventions and just go.  Walk without purpose or destination.

I am fascinated by this idea.  And I've tried to make notes of my own walks.

What attracts me to a street: 
kawara roof tiles, aged shitami (wood siding), pre-Heisei (1989-2019) architecture, elegant modern architecture, water - rivers, streams, canals, narrow streets, streets that curve, gentle hills, lush greenery - trees, flowers, stone walls, bamboo fences 

What repels me from a street: 
large apartment blocks, high walls, contemporary plastic architecture, thoughtless or oppressive architecture, no greenery, wide streets, heavy automobile traffic, a barren wasteland, disrepair, junk, the profusion of asphalt and concrete, wire mesh fences

Fleeting (儚い)

Katsuragawa hanami (桂川 花見)

I packed a bento and headed out, following the river north-west from Katsura Bridge, my usual route.  A hazy sunshine blurred the distant mountains and warmed my bones.  The river spread itself wide in places.  A natural gesture or a man-made manipulation, I wasn't sure.  Its banks were spattered with yellow rapeseed. 

There's a graceful bend and great stony beach near Matsuo Taisha.  I stopped here for lunch beneath two ancient sakura.  The trees have probably known more beautiful surroundings given their age.  The thoughtless concrete slab upon which I sat a sort of insult to nature, an abomination.

A cool breeze plucked some of the lazier sakura blossoms from the trees.  They flipped and twirled and spun to the ground.  That was it.  The end of their performance.  Always too soon.  But next year, upon the same stage they'll put on another show, and we'll once again sit and wonder.

Sakura (桜)

Sakura pay no heed

boldly singing their song

through light and through gloom

Kibune (貴船)

Almost six years living in Kyoto and I still mix up the Eizan and the Randen railways, where they go.  I jumped on the Eizan thinking it went somewhere, and it did go somewhere, only it was not the somewhere I thought it would go.  

So finding myself in Kibune I found a cafe and sat down for lunch and a tall beer.  Everything was wet with rain, the kind of wet cinematographers love when they're shooting a movie.  The sharp lines of winter were fading, softened by the vibrant green moss.  Spring had just begun to hum.  Act 1, Scene 1.  Young couples drifted by, connected by an umbrella.  Kibune - a lover's destination.  

Beer drunk and soba supped, I decided to go in search of a photograph...