‘Amanokuchi-whatsa,’ the word stumbled out of my mouth like a handful of scrabble letters. ‘What the heck is that?’ ‘Kochidaniamadaji. It’s a temple up in the mountains past Sanzenin. Trust me Mike, you gotta go there,’ Joe assured me. I looked at him a bit incredulously, ‘Go there? How can I get there when I can’t even pronounce the name?’ He laughed. ‘Trust me, it’s worth it.’
Standing at the stairs just below the temple I began to believe him. The thick forest around me was exploding with the oranges, reds and browns of mid-fall. To my left a small waterfall fed a stream that coursed down the side of the mountain. In front of me was a set of stone stairs decorated with bright green moss and worn smooth from the passage of time and feet. The only sounds besides that of nature was the occasional murmur of ‘wow’ from me or my new friend Helmut.
I should probably let you know who Helmut is. The previous week Joe, I and both of our girlfriends were viewing a geisha perform at a small temple in Arashiyama when we noticed a really tall white guy. Later, after it ended I started up a conversation with him and before the guy knew it Joe and I were heaping bunches of useful tourist information on him. After exchanging information we went on our merry way not expecting anything more from it.
About a week later as I was waiting after work at a bus-stop heading to Joe’s house my phone rings.. ‘Remember me? It’s Helmut from the temple last week? Would you like to meet me for dinner tonight?’ You can guess the rest, dinner for three…
So there Helmut and I were, standing at the bottom of the last set of stairs to the with our jaws pretty much on the ground(a helpful taxi driver brought us all the way up to the top and ended up giving us a tour).
Neither of us wasted much time and pretty soon both of us were snapping away with our cameras as happy as kids in a toy store with a credit card (mind you we hadn’t even entered the temple yet).
Step by step we began to realize that this was not like any temple we had been at before. There was no 
one else around. No lines of tourists waiting to get a quick picture with their cell-phone, no annoying and constant conversation from other people, nothing. Here the only thing that disturbed the air of solemn contemplation was us.
I cannot emphasize how rare it is to go to a temple in Japan, especially during fall when everyone is desperate to get a picture of pretty red leaves, and it to be empty, especially one of this caliber.
That old adage, ‘big things come in small packages’ describes this place to a tee and as we walked down the small path to the main grounds our jaws were somehow able to drop even lower (this, however, did not keep us from taking pictures).
I had to put my camera down for a while just to look around. On all sides the steep hills held wave after wave of brilliantly colored trees intermixed with the dark green of pine that seemed to be held back by some mysterious barrier around the temple.
One or two small groups of three or four people guided by a taxi driver walked around listening to hushed descriptions of points of interest.
Our own taxi driver was also barraging me with bits of interesting information (Helmut had walked off somewhere to grab some shots from other angles).
‘It is quite rare for a temple to have artifacts like these.’ ‘What do you mean?’ ‘Well, each of these items was given by different emperors.’ I stared at the lacquered goods inlaid with delicate gold and silver carvings of cranes, tigers and other animals. ‘Especially for such a small temple high in the mountains like this…do you know this temple is famous for, how do you say it, a mummy?’
‘A mummy!?’ He turned to me and smiled, ‘Yes, this way.’
He led me down a short wooden corridor lined with windows. A dark area loomed ahead lit by what appeared to be a single candle concealed further back in an alcove. As we got closer the temperature dropped steadily until we stood in front of a deep recess, about the height of a man, carved directly into the mountainside.
‘The founder of the temple is back there mummified in the prayer position’ he said pointing to what looked like a large stone cabinet sealed with a large iron lock. ‘Right behind that door!’ The candle flickered, blown by some unseen force and the constant sound of dripping water echoed dully from the stone walls.
As we left I couldn’t help but keep on looking back. I’ve been to a lot of temples here in Japan in all parts of the country but I have never come upon anything like this. Helmut was overjoyed that he had gotten to come and take all his pictures, see a true Japanese temple and have a good experience but me, I felt something different.
A sense of peace and satisfaction descended upon me as I walked down towards the taxi. I had finally experienced a piece of the Japan I had been searching for all these years.
Thanks Joe.
Only in Japan.
