Daibutsu, the famous Great Buddha bronze statue in Kamakura, looks out over the Kotokuin Temple.
KAMAKURA, JAPAN—I realized I had truly fallen under this town’s spell when I found myself in a café shaking a small, giraffe-shaped maraca to the beat of a Tom Waits-infused, acoustic version of Prince’s “Kiss.” It seemed a fitting way to end a day that included crawling through a cave at a Buddhist temple, hanging out with the Great Buddha himself, and hearing people talk about the resurrection of a fallen 1,000-year-old tree. Here’s the back story.
Shortly after my wife and I had settled in Tokyo, a friend who helps North American musicians book gigs in Japan suggested we take a trip to Kamakura to see a concert. We saidhai without hesitation. The city is best described as Tokyo’s laid-back neighbour (or old surfer buddy). It has beaches, Buddhist temples, ice cream shops, and cool restaurants and cafés — the perfect antidote to Tokyo’s frenetic, neon-splashed, steel-glass-and-concrete landscape.
We three met at the station one sunny Sunday morning and grabbed the direct train to Kamakura. In minutes, we were racing out of Tokyo, cutting across a peninsula, and heading toward Sagami Bay. The trip takes less than an hour and costs less than $15 return. The payoff is almost immediate. Soon after you step off the train, you start to unwind. Then it’s just a matter of what to see in the time you have. We figured we’d do better on a full stomach. Buddha doesn’t look like he skipped many meals, so why should we?
One way to get into the Kamakura vibe is to tour around with people who really know the place. My friend, Dan Rosen, moved to this city a couple of years ago after living in Tokyo for a few years and Kyoto for a decade. He whisked us from the train station to one of Kamakura’s best restaurants, 0467, which gets its name from the city’s area code. 0467 is a mix of old and new Japan. Weathered wooden beams butt against perfectly plastered walls and contemporary stonework. Its chefs serve up savory pasta dishes, curries, fish and meat, combining them with local vegetables.
Over coffee, I asked Dan (who works weekdays in Tokyo) why he decided to call Kamakura home.
“I like to see the blue sky everyday. And the mountains all around,” he said without hesitation, recalling the first time he saw Mount Fuji. “I was running along the beach one day and there it was. I said to myself, is that Fuji-san?”
The iconic mountain is just one of the many sights visitors and residents enjoy. After lunch, we started with the revered Hase Kannon Temple, or Hasedera. A few dollars will let you stroll through the temple’s luscious grounds, designed in Zen style to contribute to one’s enlightenment and contentment. But there is also sadness at this temple. One corner of Hasedera is filled with an army of small Jizo statues, representing the souls of miscarried, stillborn or aborted children. Candles and incense burn nearby, and the gurgle of a creek can be heard over the quiet.
The highest point of the Hasedera Buddhist temple provides an expansive view of one of Kamakura’s beaches, with its ant-sized surfers and windsurfers riding the waves. The lowest point is a small cave that contains the seven lucky gods of Japanese mythology. In between, you’ll find the nine-metre statue of Kannon, the goddess of mercy. According to legend, it was carved from a single piece of camphor wood in the 8th century. Monks sell offerings for the goddess — candles bearing various messages: I pray to recover from a disease; I pray to be able to meet a wonderful person; I pray for an easy delivery with a child.
At this point, we were praying for more time at this temple. But we had to leave; the Great Buddha was calling. Daibustu is considered a national treasure, one of the main reasons people visit Kamakura. The 38-metre bronze statue was built in the 13th century, back when Kamakura’s samurais ruled Japan. It has survived earthquakes and tsunamis, and now the green giant (which has a reinforced neck) stands patiently by as visitors use him as a backdrop for photos, pray to him, give gifts and pay 20 cents to climb inside his belly. If you’ve still got spare change, chanting monks will take it off your hands, ringing a bell as you drop your yen into their bowls.
But while the Great Buddha is Kamakura’s big attraction, these days it’s a fallen giant that has been capturing the imagination of many Japanese. Since mid-March, thousands of visitors have flocked to one of Kamakura’s Shinto shrines to see the remains of an old tree. The 30-metre gingko towered over the Tsurugaoka Hachiman Shrine for 1,000 years until a windstorm blew it down.
“They’re sad,” one rickshaw driver said of the people he’s ferried back and forth to visit the tree. “The ginkgo was the symbol of Kamakura.”
There’s a plan, though, that is giving hope to some. Shrine officials have cut a section of the ginkgo and planted it in the ground, expecting it will grow roots. If that fails, they’re also trying to make saplings out of branch cuttings. Despite the scientific hurdles, it’s not hard to find optimists in the crowd.
“After living for 1,000 years, the tree still has a vital energy,” said college student, Yu Usui. “It will grow again.”
One Kamakura native I met, Ishii, didn’t mourn the tree and seemed to loathe the packs of tourists in town. She talked about how the city is a drag because of the number of visitors. It didn’t help that U.S. President Barack Obama spoke about his childhood memories of Kamakura when he visited Japan last fall. Now every other ice cream shop is boasting it was the one that sold green tea ice cream to the boy who became the leader of the free world.
I tried to figure out how a Zen Buddhist would feel about Kamakura’s popularity problem, and drew a blank, which might have been a good thing. Then the main act, L.A.’s Jim Bianco, walked over to the corner, muttered something in Japanese, and started playing before the crowd of 20. After a few songs, he handed me that plastic giraffe maraca. I shook it like a pro and forgot about everything for a few minutes — the good, the bad, and the Buddha.
When we left the café, Kamakura’s narrow streets were deserted, its stores shuttered for the night. Dan told me it’s always like this after 7 p.m.
I wanted to return to one of the temples, or go lie on the ground and stare up at the Great Buddha’s big head. Instead, we went to the train station. On the way, I whispered to my wife, “We have to come back to stay for a while.”
C. James Dale is a freelancer writer based in Tokyo.
