My third and last day in Kyoto was as tired as fruitful, but would have preferred more of the latter than the former. I have told you once that Kyoto is immense, or so it seems. Know the population you have, or geographical extent. But I say it is very very wide. That last day I had, moreover, many recommendations of sites-the-not-you-can-lose carrying the agenda, overloaded with possibilities. In total pretended to go to six places, some of them quite removed from each other, or even enough removed to dry. Without thinking twice I got up at half past six and nine and was in Kyoto. It is a shame that Fapresto not let me infamous pun, because in this case would say that I felt like Cervantes and the Quixote and I Kyoto. But anyway, go to the monuments, which will always be more emblematic than any tontuna mine.
Santi and calligraphy teacher had recommended me to the core a Buddhist temple called Sanjusangendo, known for its thousand and one Buddha. This very close to the main train station in Kyoto, so it was my first stop. Came to the door, send payment as Buddha, I lamented to the lineup of "can not take pictures" (you know, the accompanying are taken from the Internet), I think the temple on the outside is ugly as the one that has a lot to impress the inside to keep up with the recommendations as authentic. But sloughing with the giant Buddha in Nara, so I better shut up and let the awe it do its work.
Sanjusangendo means something like "thirty-three spaces, from the number of spaces left column of the only room that has the temple. The building is very long. I have never known much of measures, but I think between column and column may have no problem five to seven meters. Multiply and you will be surprised. That is what I did to get in, of course. Because I thought the Buddha would be a thousand and one the size of a typical domestic popular image as the Santa Rita I had my grandmother or the Sacred Heart that is my mother in her room. Cheers for me. Each Buddha has over five feet tall. And there are thousand so. In the center, separating the other half a hundred (I have not counted, you'll have to trust me as I am of the temple authorities), a higher proportion Buddha who is revered in a special way. In fact, during my visit a priest was making a prayer by repeating a mantra (or so I think) with a bell that played at all times and in the atmosphere that produced a climate different from everything, close to what we in the imagination through a few movies, but in any case be new for the first time, suddenly, I am in the middle of a genuine Buddhist ceremony. The silence, broken only by the mantras and the bell, is absolute. The Buddhas impact by number. Thousand-foot statues are many statues of five feet, really. Incredible. And differences between them. In the picture, even with all the depth there, you see only half (ie the picture is taken from the central Buddha and would fail to see the Buddhas of the left wing). I guess this effect must be something like the warriors of Xian, China. Although the Warriors are about seven thousand, I have heard. In front of the Buddha, statues of protective gods that no watch no evil spirit. Also, at one end of the room, the god of rain and the wind in another. Nature always omnipresent in the East.
Maybe later repetition ad millem "of the statues have seemed weary or glib. I mean, as I recall, in the West, the repetition is not an aesthetic reason, and when we find, for example, in the Vatican Museums (happened to me), one is disgusted by the inability to stare before a statue because of so many. As they say someone important to me, "obscures the forest trees." Here, however, the opposite happens. Because one of these statues would result soda, empty, before the majesty everyday that I have used this blessed archipelago. Instead, and as are all equal (except those small differences in the dressing room), I get better focus on only one of these statues: seeing the forest get me a perfect idea as a tree. I am writing, in fact, these lines nearly a week after my last day in Kyoto. Believe me when I say that I remember almost to the centimeter the details of the statues. 
And, of course, the Buddha. The principal, the great, the only one whom they worship in a central location of exception. It is not, nor nearly as vast as that of Nara. Do not pretend to be. I think that would eclipse the serene beauty of the building. At a junction of forces, the magic of the Giant Buddha and the magic of a thousand statues would not melt but that would eclipse the other and vice versa. I like to see the heads of the Buddhas. I do not speak of a thousand statues, but of the great statues of Buddha that I've seen in these and four weeks. And I reaffirm what I have said more times in this blog, as there will not been the history of Buddhism, or whether a religion has been as bloody as the top three that I know in the West. I do not care, because they do not talk about it. I speak and I want to mention that this God has been made to face him. Islam is not never the face of Allah, Christianity shows us a man crucified with a crown of thorns on his head (or, rather, a man being roasted on a grill or a woman they have cut breasts and shows them in a tray, or perhaps another tray with the head of the crucified Lord to baptize) and know if there are graphic representations of the god of the Jews. And I say that I speak of the essence, not the history of religions. If I have to give thanks, ask for advice or help, pray for my soul or find solace after the death of a loved one, I would love to look into the eyes that I talk and not feel more than appreciation, kindness, humility and simplicity . And, although so far I have no intention of becoming any religion, I must say that I found just looking at the face of Buddha. Even after Richard Gere and may be responsible to trivialize the image of the Buddhist, I believe that this god and his followers speak the same language. 
Salgo Sanjusangendo, prop me, I look for a bus (today is Monday and the crowd there, so I have no problem using them) and I head to Chion-in. Is an enclosure santuarial (do not know if there is such a word) in which there are several buildings, devoted to one or the other gods. And know you've arrived when the door is, vast as only they know to be disconcerting. In the picture you can see how people are small beside him. It is only the gateway to the campus. And you feel like getting. Go if you want. 
A big Climbing the stairs that separate the gate, a map shows you where you are and how many things can be seen inside the compound, including up to view recommended routes best. This is very convenient, it is quite common throughout Japan. It is difficult, as a rule, lost: every five hundred meters (depending on the site, of course) you can find one. It is easy, thanks to this, not suddenly appear in Navacerrada. When you enter the main site and you clear something: No smoking, although we are abroad. We can not forget that ALL the buildings are made of wood and surrounded by nature semiagreste. I have told you once that the fire was caused or not, who has destroyed the vast majority of historic buildings in this country. Earthquakes have also helped, of course. 
I visit the main temple, do not take pictures because you can, but not There is nothing special to highlight, and I dedicate it to wander, trying to avoid the masses of people (although not many, not thought-provoking that I like). That brings me to the cemetery of the sanctuary. Than peace. I always liked cemeteries, some already know (I think), are quiet places where one can come to reunite with their loved ones or at least to remind you where physically there is something about them. I've always said I will not be cremated but buried me. Although, after this contact with nature on this trip, no, no ... Anyway, I would not mind being buried here. Although a little cop you to hell, really. Never mind, I have no intention of dying for now, that I still have to war. Touch wood and I, after five minutes of relaxation in the cemetery. No gore acuseis me, please. I only speak of quiet places. 
But for peace of mind that I passed the next temple. Always within the confines of Chion-In, came to a site that is not what is (which is because the map has indicated, of course, but since I do not read Japanese so far not as it is called) but that captivates me up more absolute marrow. It will be the lighting, will be that no one, will I'm sensitive (four weeks so that great), but I'm, again, in front of Beauty. Just like that. Inside someone sweeps the temple, the sun caresses the leaves (which can not es describir los colores de esta region en otoño), no se oye mas que el silencio... Si hay un paraiso y no se parece a este, que me lo cambien. Por favor. 
La siguiente parada sera Ginkakuji. Si recordais, la ultima vez que estuve en Kyoto fui a Kinkakuji, que es el pabellon de oro. Ginkakuji es, pues, el pabellon de plata. Tengo que tomar otro autobus (hoy consigo sentarme en todos, que felicidad) que me acerca hasta la entrada del Sendero de la Filosofia, que es un caminito milenario que transcurre a lo largo de un pequeño canal. Deben ser como dos kilometros, algo menos quizas, hasta llegar a Ginkakuji. Lo se, lo se, no dejo de andar todo el dia. Estoy echando unos gemelos que pa que... Tras recorrer el sendero (Favoring pictures like that you can see) came at last to the silver pavilion. 
I think it's a favorite of couples kiotenses, because it is almost all we have. It is indeed a romantic environment as the single. I have not here who would, of course. But, although not at all the same, I get two or three songs I've ever shared with her. And, though I comfort dream that my arms around in the yard while I say tender, goofy stuff in his ear. But in the end. This is a travel blog. To love literature you already have a Garcilaso and Lope, who are the great gods. Kibune is, perhaps, the furthest from the central shrine of Kyoto. From Ginkakuji I have to walk half an hour to reach the train station to take me there (yes, half an hour, I know, do not take bus because the map seemed closest), and once on the train to stop twenty-five minutes. When he arrived, another twenty minute walk uphill in the middle of the mountain. Heavenly, but exhausting. Cold even in the corcusilla, but comfortable. Finally arrived. Kibune is the sanctuary that come the peasants, farmers ... to give thanks for water. That's why the mountain is next to several waterfalls and streams. It's small, austere, unpretentious old. However, I was interested in coming here since I saw a picture in Spain. Look, ask, I lost before reaching Japan because the image of this sanctuary is used by the national tourist board japonsea on the cover of an international booklet of twenty pages for those who want to visit the country. I mean it's an image used enough to let someone know of where it is. But no flowers. Neither the Embassy of Japan, or Japanese travel agency where you buy the JR Pass or the Japanese restaurant where I eat when I go to Madrid. Nobody knew. I hallucinating thinking how could he not know him. I arrived here and three quarters of the same until the lady of the Kyoto tourist office told me that, in fact, it was Kibune. Now I understand: it tends to infinity, the number of temples and shrines that exist in Japan. No if counted will have somewhere. The strange thing is that someone knew.
Kibune And as I say, is tiny. I can even say that the shrine itself is worth nothing (or no more than other 1200 I've seen here), out of more than certain religious values \u200b\u200bthat give the faithful who come to their rites here. That if the stairs leading from the entrance to the shrine torii worth the two walks that I have. Do not know if I'll have time or opportunity, but I would like to someday be able to write something about the stone steps of Japan. I am excited. When you get back to the center of Kyoto would have thought that even time to see the two sites that wanted to see. Viewing the map, the Jardin Botanico (which I recommended as an urgent Jesus Calvo) is very close. Closes at 5. Perfect. It's 3 and a half ago. No problem. I can find a bus stop near the Botanic me. When I come, oh sorrow, oh sorrow, oh lonely fields withered hills, the Botanical Garden closes at 5, yes, but the check in time is until four. And they are five. I was enraged to the utmost. Nothing happens. We're going to do. I still have another site: Nembutsuji Adashino temple on the outskirts of Kyoto (other than a Kibune outside), a seemingly beautiful temple situated in the cemetery where they buried a thousand years ago people who had no friends or relatives who are give good burial. However, no bus stops nearby. I go to Where else can let me near the bus and start walking. Ando and Ando. Fifty minutes walk, for more information. My twins are starting to be hardened titanium. I get lost. This is beyond the end of the known world in the Heian era. I meet an old lady. I ask that if you speak English. I said of course not. I ask a Japanese gruesome than where you come to the temple. He tells me I have to go back (maybe I said something else, but that's what I think he had to say) and points a path a hundred yards and then move your arm toward the infinite, as if to say "you're going down that road and when you get to take the ass are already there. " So I do. When he arrived, the temple has been closed. And indeed, I am to take the ass. Very far. So much that it is dark. But there are people who seem to tourists, and to see them return home as follow: surely reach the station know better than me.
hour and a half later I was at home. My last day in Kyoto has been fantastic and exhausting, of course. I still have to see over half the city. But I'll have to leave for my next trip to Japan. I hope is soon. But you never know.
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