We arrived in Kyoto in the afternoon. After dropping our bags at our hotel, Mom and I decided to make the most of the day that we had left by taking a walk to one of Kyoto's most important, significant, and famous Buddhist temples, Kiyamizu-dera, which is dedicated to the goddess of mercy, Kannon.
Kannon, also known as Guanyin in other parts of the Buddhist world, is one of the most beloved Bodhisattvas, or Buddhist saints. A Bodhisattva is someone who has the ability to attain enlightenment and become a Buddha yet chooses to remain within the cycle of rebirth in order to help all living beings on the path to Nirvana.
Kannon’s compassion and mercy have made her one of the most popular figures in Japanese Buddhism. She is so iconic, in fact, that a certain camera company which you may have heard of even borrowed her name and image. Though the spelling and logo have evolved over the years, that little company, Canon, is still with us today.
After traveling in from Nishayama Onsen that morning, it was already afternoon, and all of the tourists were out in full force. The walk up the beautiful road to the temple was packed, and the temple grounds themselves were even more so.
I actually couldn't believe how crowded it was! I had visited Kiyamizu-dera twice before (albeit both times were about ten years ago) and didn't remember it being especially crowded. However, the temple is popular for good reason. It's one of Japan's most iconic sites, a symbol of Kyoto and Japanese Buddhism, and was even considered as a finalist for the New 7 Wonders of the World.
Undeterred, we purchased tickets and climbed the steps of the mountainside temple. Before visiting Kiyamizu-dera proper, we stopped by the Zuigu-do Hall, which houses a secret chamber beneath its floors.
The Tainai Meguri, or "Journey to the Womb", is a spiritual experience that begins by paying 100 yen and removing your shoes before descending a steep set of stairs to a chamber beneath the shrine. As you step below Kiyomizu-dera, you enter pure and complete darkness, guided only by a handrail made of large wooden prayer beads. Visitors are admitted one at a time, allowing each person to experience the descent in silence and solitude.
The tunnel is entirely devoid of light, forcing you to rely on touch alone to find your way forward. The experience is meant to symbolize a return to the womb of the female Bodhisattva Daizuigu, whose compassion is said to grant wishes and blessings to those who seek her. In Japanese Buddhist belief, Daizuigu represents spiritual renewal and the potential for transformation, and by stepping into the darkness, one symbolically journeys through the unseen and emerges reborn.
At the end of the tunnel sits a smooth, round stone illuminated by a dim light representing Daizuigu’s womb. Turning it is said to bring good fortune, healing, and the fulfillment of a wish before you slowly make your way back upwards toward the light.
Leaving the shrine, we climbed the steps up the side of the mountain to the main temple hall, Kiyamizu-dera's most iconic spot. A huge platform, supported by 139 13-meter-tall pillars and a lattice of more than 400 cedar planks hangs off the side of a cliff just outside the main temple hall. The platform, crafted in the "Kakezukuri Method" is made without the use of a single nail! Looking down from the platform offers incredible views of the valley below.
The platform at Kiyamizu-dera is so famous, in fact, that it led to the saying "to jump off the stage at Kiyamizu", the Japanese equivalent of the English expression "to take the plunge". This harkens back to an Edo-era tradition where people would visit the temple, make a wish, and throw themselves from the platform. If they survived (and out of the 234 recorded jumps, around 85% survived), one's wish would come true. It was said that anyone who was desperate enough for their wish to come true to jump off the platform was sure to have their wish granted. The dangerous practice was outlawed in 1972.
We explored the temple, but it was too crowded to really enjoy it. After walking through the monastery grounds, Mom and I walked back to our hotel, stopping briefly for ice cream. I ordered a matcha tea flavored soft serve, and Mom ordered a roasted chestnut soft serve, both of which were served in charcoal cones. It was a hot day, and very nice to cool off with ice cream as we sat on the steps of the little shop and ate our snack.
Making our way back down the famous Kiyomizu-Zaka Street, a crowd gathered in front of a narrow traditional shop caught our eye. We decided to step closer to see what was going on.
The shop, Mochi Mochi (a play on the phrase "moshi moshi", which is what one says when answering the phone in Japanese), is famous for their handmade daifuku mochi.
Daifuku (which literally means "great luck") is a type of mochi, a cake made from glutinous rice pounded into a sticky paste and formed into a ball. The mochi is then stuffed with azuki (sweet red bean) paste and dusted with a light coating of sugar. Here, the mochi ball was served with a sweet and juicy fresh strawberry on top.
At Mochi Mochi, the staff were pounding the rice by hand using the traditional method. They were super skilled at doing it, with one guy rhythmically hitting the rice ball with a giant wooden mallet and shouting out in time as his partner deftly kneaded and folded the mochi dough in between swings. It was really amazing to watch and to see how much effort goes into making each daifuku.
While most of the crowd has just stopped by to watch the show and see how mochi were made, we decided to order one and the entire staff shouted out their thanks to us as the mochi ball was formed, brushed with sugar, and topped with a strawberry. At nearly $10, it was very expensive for a mochi, but it felt worth it seeing each one made by hand right in front of your eyes.
It was great to see the temple, but it was far too crowded on the day we tried to visit. I wanted Mom to have the full experience, and she was a little disappointed with Kiyamizu-dera upon first impression, so she suggested that we go back to visit one more time one morning before taking a day trip to go to Nara.
A few days later, we were up with the dawn and found ourselves walking up the steep hill at Kiyomizu-Zaka Street towards the monastery. It was a quiet morning, and not yet 7am. Only a few of the shops were open yet and there was hardly anyone else around. This time, it was a much nicer experience, and we got to see the beautiful old street lined with traditional Japanese shops and restaurants without the annoying throng of tourists.
This time, we were nearly alone at Kiyamizu-dera, and it had a totally different atmosphere; far quieter and more spiritual than it had been days before on our first visit. We were really able to appreciate the beauty and tranquility of the ancient Buddhist monastery.
We walked through the temple again. This time, we were able to actually go inside the main prayer hall to see its shrine and had the chance to stand on the big wooden platform and look out across the temple grounds without being shoved and jostled by the crowds.
Down a winding path beneath the main hall is the Otowa Waterfall, where three channels of fresh spring water fall into a fountain. Visitors can catch and drink the water, which is said to have wish-granting powers. It is especially renowned for granting wishes for health, longevity, and success in one's studies, and is very popular with students.
I have drunk from the water before on a previous visit to Kyoto, but I'm more hesitant about doing things like that since COVID. I suppose it's perfectly fine; after using a metal ladle to catch some of the water and take a drink, you are to replace the ladle into a receptacle that blasts it with UV light, supposedly killing any pathogens. Still, I'm not super into drinking after other people, and I skipped the ritual on this visit.
Our second visit to Kiyamizu-dera was short, but much better than the first time we tried to go. There's really something to be said for getting up early and starting your day before everyone else does.
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