Blog 12.
My still swollen feet and knees this morning take the decison in favour of the coast road rather than the mountain – they clearly need to recover from yesterday‘s hard descent. Glad to have an alternative route, listening to my body to go off the henro path turns out to be a blessing, for the pristine waters and fresh breeze make this a gorgoeus day walking the blue bays of the Uwa-kai sea.
My „ryokan“ this night, however, like so many lodgings I‘ve stayed at, has seen better days. It is very aged and gives the impression that not much has been updated (or cleaned, really) since the Edo period. But the welcome is warm and the sheets are clean, and that‘s what counts. Still, I don‘t fancy the looks of the bath, so I borrow the inn‘s rusty bicycle to venture out to the town‘s public spa (onsen) for a good wash and bathe. This gorgeous spa is a popular destination at a roadside station.
I love the Japanese ritual of showering in the sitting position on a low stool before getting into the bath. There is usually a mirror in the bay you sit at while you lather up and rinse. Perhaps I have been burning the butter and lost a few pounds…
Parts of the bathing landscape are actually outside and I enjoy relaxing in the hot water under the dusk sky. Emerging from the pool, I realise I have not rented a towel and there are none available for patrons. This is a BYO. To the disapproving look of a fellow-bather, I nip into the sauna and snatch a couple of towelling squares to wipe myself off with before cycling back to the ranch. On the way out I stop to talk briefly to a mother and her lovely baby and a few other female relatives, who are on an outing to the spa.
Just as I am about to cycle off, the mother comes running up to me to say, in English, that she would like to be friends. Her name is Anna. I tell her I am doing the henro and moving on in the morning. She lives a couple of days walk away, and would like to meet me when I reach her town.
Early in the morning, my landlady at „Edo inn“ brings me some strawberries and melon with a message from Anna that I can‘t decipher, but I think the fruit is a gift connected to the message. I am touched. That evening I call Anna to tell her where I will be staying the next night in her town, perhaps we can meet for breakfast.
Half-way through the next day‘s walking, I am plodding along the stretch of flat road in between towns when a young woman comes running towards me, arms outstretched. Once I can focus, I see it‘s Anna, who gives me a hug, a bottle of tea and a gold henro nameslip of her late grandfather‘s – gold signifies that someone has completed the pilgrimage over 50 times, so is much more special than my beginner‘s white nameslips.
Anna and I get talking and a kinship is quickly formed. Her sincerity and desire to help me on my henro is moving. She offers me a room at her house that night, to save me money on the henro. Free lodging is one of the largest „ossetai“ gifts a pilgrim can receive, it‘s called Bo-jyase. Anna has her reasons for offering the alm, and I appreciate the gesture. After some hesitation, I agree to change my plans and she cancels my reservation at the business hotel.
That tired evening when I arrive at our meeting point, she picks me up and drives me in her modern car to her modern house. Her mum comes over and, just like the other day, it‘s three generations of a Japanese family and me, enjoying a relaxed evening like we‘ve known each other ages. We discover that both our mothers and fathers had the exact same professions.
The atmosphere is serene, the baby is happy. I hope they can visit me some time in Europe.
For breakfast we go to a nearby roadside station, very scenic, by a river, before I am dropped off back on the henro route for a hard day‘s climb.
On parting, Anna hands me a handwritten letter. I am to read it after completing the day‘s hike at my next lodging in the mountains.
That evening, under my kotatsu, a heated coffee table, I open up the letter. Anna seems to instinctively understand that I am processing some painful life experiences on this pilgrimage. In her charmingly broken English, she reaches out to me with some encouragement from Japanese poet, Shinmin Sakamura, who spent much time in Ehime prefecture.
Nenzureba hana hiraku – Pray and Flowers will Bloom
She explains these famous words: „If you make efforts to pray hard in everything, you‘ll be able to open the road yourself, a dream and a goal will come true.“
The mindful lesson continues with a breakdown of the Japanese kanji character for „pray“. It consists of two interesting components: „now“ and „heart“.
As so often on this pilgrimage, I am astonished at the depth of human connection in the briefest of encounters, overriding cultural differences every time.
She continues simply with „One day suddenly, resolved.“ And these words of comfort touch my soul for days.
Arigato, Angel Anna.
X
Marion Gibson 