More than a Religious Experience
Not far from Mount Fuji, one temple lodging is offering a lot more than bed, board and Buddha
By Clive France
I’ve been told to meet the rest of the tour group at Kakurinbo, a temple lodging in Minobusan some three hours from Tokyo. I’m joining on the second day of the tour and arrive ahead of the others. This gives me the chance to talk with our host, Junko Higuchi.
Junko, who is in her mid-50s, has a fading beauty that I put down to good genes and a lack of sleep. She tells me she was born and raised in Tokyo, moved to Minobusan to marry one in a long line of Kakurinbo priests, and has three children. She explains how Kakurinbo has evolved in recent years to become a popular destination for visitors from overseas. Although her English is adequate, she repeatedly apologizes. “My English level is elementary school,” she says, “But I must speak every day. Many foreigner come.” I want to talk more but we are interrupted by the arrival of a minibus carrying the 12 other tour members.
As they debus, I see that they’re all much younger than me. There’s an obvious mix of nationalities but only a South Korean couple, dressed in matching outdoor wear, own up to where they’re from. On hearing I’m writing a story, a 20-something with a Spanish accent tells me he’s also a writer. “But this is my passion,” he says, clutching his camera tightly.
Junko ushers us inside. Some in the group trample onto the wooden entranceway before removing their shoes. The Koreans look aghast, but Junko smiles reassuringly. We are here on a so-called “monitor tour.” It’s a free junket for social media influencers, photographers and writers to experience “experiences,” a travel buzzword hyped by the likes of Airbnb. We have been given carte blanche to video, photograph and write about anything that catches our eye. The Spaniard with the camera passion needs little encouragement. Before following us inside, he photographs Junko, the temple entrance, the shoe rack and a passing cat.
Otera-no-don Lunch
Our first experience turns out to be lunch in Kakurinbo’s spacious dining room, one side of which looks out onto an ornamental garden and koi pond. Junko explains that the garden style is known as “shinji-ike,” as the shape of the pond resembles the ideogram for “heart.”
Otera-no-don, Kakurinbo’s elegant take on the popular donburi meat-on-rice dish, comprises slices of grilled, spicy chicken and grated cabbage on a bed of rice. What it lacks in volume (I could easily eat another), it makes up for by being aesthetically pleasing, as attested by my fellow diners, some of whom reach for their smartphones before their chopsticks.
Wine Label Making
After a quick tour of Kakurinbo, we return to the dining room for something more scholarly: writing a kanji ideogram on traditional Japanese paper, or washi, to make a personalized wine bottle label.
The instructor explains in halting English the basics and writes out each of the kanji we have chosen. Having seen one earlier that day clambering up a telegraph pole, I choose “monkey.” With a calligraphy brush and ink, we painstakingly write our ideograms on sheets of washi torn into label-sized pieces. I have chosen a deceptively difficult kanji but am pleased with the end result, although half of my monkey resembles a seahorse.
We each attach our finished labels to a bottle of cloudy, pink wine that is included in the tutorial. The tag around the bottle’s neck claims, ominously, that it is part of the Wine Earth series “made through a recycling process.”
Yubagozen Dinner
Designed by Junko, who is also an award-winning chef, the dinner at Kakurinbo is something of an institution. Fusing multicourse kaiseki cuisine with Buddhist shojin ryori, which eschews meat, fish and pungent vegetables such as garlic and onion, the menu’s only variations are its seasonal dishes.
Some courses, such as homemade Akebono soybean natto on a bed of crispy deep-fried yuba (bean curd sheets), freshly made yuba sashimi and the tomato and soymilk hotpot, are already on the table when we arrive. As we wait for our hotpots to cook, sakura mushi (steamed yuba wrapped in a cherry leaf) and an assortment of deep-fried tidbits are added to the spread.
In keeping with tradition, rice, in this case blended with 16 types of grain, is served last, along with a clear yuba soup and pickles. Dessert is a stylish glass bowl of soymilk ice cream served with four varieties of homemade confiture as toppings.
The ornate and colorful tableware, obviously chosen to enhance the dining experience, is manna from heaven for my fellow diners, who waste no time in disseminating their dinners to Instagram followers across the globe.
Festival Experience
After dinner, we are shepherded out into the Kakurinbo forecourt for what’s been billed as a “festival experience.” The crisp, night air is the ideal antidote for our postprandial lethargy.
We are seated in a semicircle and each given a handheld drum and drumstick. Zeko, the junior priest at Kakurinbo, appears, straining under the weight of a hefty flagpole known as a matoi. The performance, he tells us, is an essential part of the Oeshiki festival, which takes place each October to mark the death of Nichiren, the founder of Nichiren Buddhism. With this, he begins twirling the matoi back and forth, sometimes throwing it high into the air, other times swinging it dangerously low in our direction. We are urged to join in by beating our drums and shouting out unintelligible words of encouragement.
It’s a steamroller of a performance that, once finished, has every red-blooded male among us raring to give it a go. After a false start, the American in the group manages to raise the matoi into the air. However, a diminutive French blogger struggles to even lift the thing off the ground.
Bell Ringing and Morning Prayers
The following morning, I reluctantly leave the warmth of my futon at 5 a.m. and join the group for the 10-minute drive to Kuonji, the imposing seat of Nichiren Buddhism. We are to attend morning prayers, said to be the highlight of a visit to Minobusan.
We arrive just in time for the ringing of the Great Bell that serves as Kuonji’s call to prayer. The bell ringer, a boyish monk in black samue and white sandals, uses the full weight of his body to draw back the heavy, wooden beam that acts as a clapper and release it to strike the enormous bell. With each strike, the bell emits a deep bong that thrums through the frigid air.
This is the cue for Kuonji’s resident monks to begin their daily procession from the far end of the temple to the hondo, or main hall. Dressed in cumbersome robes of various colors, they shuffle along the outer walkways that connect each of Kuonji’s buildings, chanting a chorus of Namu myoho renge kyo, the Lotus Sutra odaimoku that is pivotal to Nichiren Buddhism. Located at points along the route are colossal drums that are pounded to draw attention to the procession as it passes.
The hondo is a vast, lavishly decorated hall with an altar at one end crowded with Buddhist accouterments. A color mannequin of Nichiren sits center stage, cartoonishly out of place among the glittering gold leaf and polished wood. Extending across the ceiling above the visitors’ area is a nine-square-meter painting depicting a five-clawed dragon.
Even with the addition of our group, the congregation is noticeably outnumbered by the 40 or so monks, who file in and quietly take their places on the floor of the chancel. There is a moment of hushed anticipation before the monks’ voices fill the hall in a chorus of mournful chants and sutra recitations. It’s no exaggeration to say that it’s a spine-tingling experience. I look around to see how my tour companions are reacting. Although signs forbidding photography within the hall have them stymied, they too seem captivated by the service.
When we leave the hondo, the glow of dawn highlights Kuonji’s five-story pagoda and reveals a koi pond, numerous temple buildings of varying styles and a steep set of 287 stone steps that descend through a forest of towering cedars to the great sanmon gate.
Sanmon, Gobyosho and Goso’an
The sanmon gate at the foot of the mountain marks the de facto entrance to Kuonji. Passing through it is said to rid one of the three human afflictions of greed, anger and foolishness. I give it a go but can’t admit to feeling any less afflicted. It’s a magnificent structure and well worth seeing. However, my attention is drawn to a small, mock Edo-era building across the street. It has two entrances, the symbol for man above one and for woman above the other. I’ve long given up rhapsodizing about the appeal of Japan’s public toilets, but this one is too picturesque to go unmentioned.
Not far away is Gobyosho, an octagonal pagoda made of marble that contains some of Nichiren’s ashes, and Goso’an, an empty patch of ground where Nichiren lived for the last eight years of his life. The last 10 minutes of my life have been spent thinking about breakfast, so I’m relieved when we eventually head back to Kakurinbo.
Asakagozen Breakfast
Breakfast at Kakurinbo is served in covered baskets that, when opened, reveal two tiers of dainty dishes. There’s some speculation among the group as to what the dishes contain. I recognize egg roll, natto, sweetened beans and sesame tofu. Although it comes with steamed rice and miso soup, the breakfast leaves something to be desired—in my case, a bacon sandwich.
Helicopter to Mt. Fuji
After breakfast, we clamber into the minibus for the one-hour drive to Kai Heliport. On the way, we stop at a convenience store for some much-needed coffee. At the heliport, a small helicopter is waiting for us on the tarmac. It can only carry three passengers at a time so we divide up. I’m in the first group. After a brief safety talk, we board the helicopter, put on headsets to muffle the noise, and within 10 minutes are hovering directly above Mt. Fuji. The air is clear and the sky immaculate. Below us, Fuji’s snow-covered cone glistens under the winter sun. After circling the mountain, we head back to the heliport. Breathtaking as it is, the whole trip takes less than 20 minutes.
At the heliport, we disembark and the next three passengers take their seats. The helicopter whirs up into the sky and is quickly out of sight. As no one smokes anymore, we kill time with small talk and doom scrolling. I attempt to engage a young influencer from Mexico but feel I’m depriving her of her followers. In less than two hours it’s all over and we’re heading back to Minobusan. The mood in the bus is one of excitement and relief.
Café Zencho Lunch
For lunch, we are treated to one of the set meals at Café Zencho, a small but stylish cafe that has been tacked onto Junko’s latest conception, Guest Villa Ebisuya. If there is a crowd-pleaser at Café Zencho, it’s the fusion of locally sourced ingredients with popular Western grub. Top of the menu are Italian-inspired dishes that use hoto noodles, one of Yamanashi’s few culinary achievements, in place of pasta. Other quirky items include four flavors of homemade canelé, Kakurinbo’s very own Temple Beer, and deep fried dough dusted in Akebono soybean flour.
Guest Villa Ebisuya
With our lunches consumed and fully documented, it’s time for the final part of the tour. We are led through the cafe’s garden and into Guest Villa Ebisuya, an early 1930s house that Junko opened in 2021 as a self-contained holiday home. As Junko guides us through the property, she does her best to explain the house’s noteworthy features. I fill in the gaps from the Ebisuya website.
“This is European room,” she says, entering a Western-style drawing room with an Italianate table and chairs and a bay window looking onto an ornamental garden. “Very high,” she exclaims, pointing to the ceiling. “This room very rare in Japan.” The Ebisuya website says that the house was built at a time of great social change in Japan and, as such, it features a number of fascinating elements.
We follow her through to the main part of the building. “Here is big engawa, you see? Very big,” she explains, as we enter theinner veranda. “And this glass, very rare,” she says, pointing to the fragile Taisho glass panes. According to the website, “the irregular patterns in the glass produce soft refracted light and slight changes in color.”
“I like cloud,” says Junko, pointing out the cloud-shaped lighting fixtures. Junko does a lot of pointing. “Clouds are a motif of Ebisuya and can be found in various forms throughout the house,” explains the website. “And this is Buddhist and Shinto room,” she says, indicating a closed off space in which “the original Buddhist and Shinto altars are enshrined together in a syncretistic fusion known as shinbutsu shugo.”
Behind the house is a furnished, wooden deck with an open-air bathtub. “Only onsen in Minobusan,” Junko explains. Hot spring water is also available in the wet room, which features a rain shower and a striking Hizen ceramic bathtub from Saga Prefecture.
“And here is beautiful island kitchen,” Junko says, moving us along. It turns out to be a modish kitchen island with all the gadgets necessary for a comfortable self-catering stay. The refrigerator is discreetly hidden away in a cupboard. “If you’re coming by car and want to cook yourself, be sure to buy supplies along the way, as there are very few stores in Minobusan and no supermarkets,” the website warns.
And with that, the tour is over and we file out into the bright winter sunshine. After some last-minute photos and lots of goodbyes, we board the waiting minibus. The early morning start is beginning to take its toll and the mood in the bus is somber. But there’s also a sense of achievement. I think I can speak for all my fellow travelers when I say it’s been a truly rewarding experience.
