Site of Danzan Jinja, shrine and spiritual resting place of Fujiwara Kamatari, the seventh century statesman and founder of the Fujiwara clan.Īs Tito has posted, our friend Simon Piggott passed away on 8th June. Manyōshū, the first great anthology of Japanese poetry, compiled early in the eighth century, mentions a number of such mountains-Miwa, Otowa, Amanokagu, Amakashi, Unebi, Miminashi, Katsuragi, Nijō, etc., all of which can be seen from Asuka.Ħ. Sakafune-ishi, Ishibutai, Mara-ishi, Kame-ishi, Nimenseki, and so on Asuka is famed for its mysterious ancient stones.ĥ. Birthplace of Shōtoku Taishi, the late sixth century imperial regent-statesman, who ensured that Buddhism took root in Japan.Ĥ. Katsuragi itself will be climbed by Hailstone haiku hikers on Oct. En no Ozunu, the seventh century mountain ascetic and founder of Shugendō religion Mt.
Potsu-potsu fall the first drops onto the veranda roof …ġ. Just then, a sharp wind comes down from the peak of Tōnomine (6) and I notice the black clouds behind me and sense a heavy rain. Butterflies, damselflies, dragonflies visit-a magic seems to well. So, why not rest here for a few days, then? A new place before journeying on. I place a glass of water on an improvised stool and gaze out sighing, acknowledging to myself that all the ancient lithic sites (4) are now arrayed nearby, that the charming rolling scenery of Manyō (5) hills already encircles us with its greens and blues, and that tonight will be immaculately silent apart from the gurgle of irrigation water and the field crickets’ tintinnabulations.
The occasional couple appears pushing their rented bikes up the slope towards our house, and then past it, on their way enjoying the shadows cast on the lane by the unkempt grove of Okamoto-tei, a deserted, ramshackle property once apparently famed for its literary parties and its waterwheel. Asuka (3), where I now live, is right up with all those nicely underdeveloped Asian travel destinations of yore. The effects of moving house after so many years feels strangely similar to the aftermath of long, sleepless, jolting rides on Afghan trucks or Laotian buses. I recall the taste of ‘arrival’ savoured on so many rough journeys in India and the Middle East how one would check into a backpackers’ lodge after thirty-six or forty-eight hours on the move and ask for a room with a view. Katsuragi, birthplace of En no Ozunu (1), with the gracefully curving gables of Tachibana Temple (2) rising out of the foreground green-gold rice terraces just across the Asuka Stream. Yet from the veranda, where we were soon hanging out our washing, there’s a glad prospect out across to distant Mt. Travel-weary is how I felt as we began to unpack boxes in our new house.
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