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My trip from Kyoto to Koyasan has thus far been a complete disaster. After breakfast at Hiiragiya I was bowed off to my destination by four separate people and I walked, in the absolute pouring rain with the tiniest umbrella, to the subway station. By the time I arrived at the subway I was completely soaked, and this was the good part of my trip.

The subway to Kyoto station was uneventful. I planned to disembark and pick up my luggage, but first I thought I'd stop off at the Tourist Information Centre to pick up a map of Koyasan. I stood in line for fifteen minutes, only to discover at the front of the line a tiny little sign explaining that this TIC was for Japanese-speaking tourists, and would I please mind going to the other TIC that was reachable through a department store. I headed off... and the department store was closed. I waited another 15 minutes for it to open and was greeted by a chorus of employees wishing us good morning and thanks for shopping at the department store. Actually, that part was kind of cool.

I took the system of escalators, arranged in a linear fashion so as to make the most inefficient use of space, to the ninth floor, where I followed more small signs and eventually discovered the English-speaking TIC. Another 15 minute wait and they gave me a map and wished me on my way, directing me to the JR line that would take me to Osaka. Except I had to stop off and pick up my luggage from the hotel's remote concierge office.

I don't know if you've been to Kyoto station, but the place is absolutely enormous. I thought I remembered where the concierge was but soon discovered that I was R-O-N-G wrong. I stopped and asked an information person who advised me that the Miyako's office was in the other part of the station, separated from me by a series of tracks. She directed me upstairs and I continued to follow the signs to the south part. The signs took me up several flights of escalators and eventually dropped me off at the track-facing side of the north station, where I witnessed many homeless people neatly folding their laundry on their cardboard boxes.

Still marching to the beat of the signs, I was deposited on a giant stairway that now directed me down, which, in case you were unfamiliar with the up/down dynamic, is the exact opposite of the up I was advised to take. I followed the maze again and asked for more help from passers-by. I could see a covered pathway across the tracks, but each person I asked seemed to think it was in a different direction. Eventually a truck driver directed me down a back alley, where my tiny umbrella gave up the ghost ($3 CAD? Imagine that) and I was then drenched by the torrential downpour that had apparently engulfed Kyoto. I will henceforth refer to this rain storm as Hurricane Sonofabitch.

I continued to follow this alley until I discovered a dead end, at which point I thought "fuck it" and scrambled up an embankment to the overpass... where I was promptly drenched by the splash from an overeager moped rider. Not that it mattered, because I couldn't have been any wetter than I already was.

I trudged along dejectedly through Hurricane Sonofabitch until I finally arrived at the other end of the station, soaked to the undies and wishing only to find a warm bed and a bucket of warm sake in which to drown my troubles. I located the Miyako concierge's office and I picked up my luggage, which was FUCKING HEAVY after carrying everything else. They sent me up the escalator to a JR office to get my ticket, who sent me to another office at the other end of the station, who sent me to a third office, who directed me back to the general location of the first office so that I could board a train.

I was dripping wet and carrying luggage that weighed about two hundred pounds more than it should because it had been soaked in the rain, finally boarding the local to Osaka and being able to plonk my luggage on the train floor and my ass into a fold-down seat so that I didn't soak it for the next person who rode behind me. 30 minutes later I arrived in Osaka and located the Osaka loop line, finally deciding that, if it were indeed a loop, it didn't fucking matter which train I got on because eventually I'd arrive in the right place. Luckily I was right and arrived at some fucking station or another, smashing my way through people whose idea of sport on this Saturday morning was to push around the sopping wet lady with heavy luggage and a bad attitude. I can see from my reflection in the train window glass that... well, let's be honest, I've looked better.

I paid for the Nankai line to Koyasan, lining up to take the express train, and desperately needing to pee. Given that I hadn't eaten for six hours, I was also starving, so I purchased the only food that had English writing on it: a miniature can of Pringles, a bottle of Crystal Geyser and a bag of peanut M&Ms. I devoured the chips and M&Ms, holding onto the Crystal Geyser until I had an opportunity to pee on the train.

At 13:26 the rapid express to Koyasan arrived and I discovered that it looked like a subway. No reserved seating, just benches on each side of the train, and certainly no bathrooms. I crossed my legs (both literally and figuratively) and settled in for the 90 minute ride to my destination.

The farther we get into Waythefuckoutthere Prefecture, the shorter the train becomes. After about an hour they detached all but the first four cars of the train and I trundled my luggage into the fourth car. We're now about fifteen minutes away from Koyasan and they are detaching another car, leaving only the first three cars. To prevent myself from having to move yet again, I careened and smashed me and my luggage through the train to the first car. If they tell me to leave this car, I guess we're walking to Koyasan, but I'll pay the conductor $100 to carry my luggage for me.

On the other track can see the Osaka-bound train returning from Koyasan with reserved seats and, presumably, washrooms. I hate every single person on that train. In addition to being soaking wet from the rain--actually, I've dried out a bit, I'm just shivering from the cold--I am almost to the point at which I'm going to have to soak myself. I have to pee so badly that it has given me a stomach ache.

I'm not sure if this is the universe's karma making me suffer in preparation for what I am getting ready to learn in a Buddhist temple, but right now all I want to do is be home in Toronto with a nonfat latte from Starbucks, sitting on my couch with my doggies snuggled against my tummy, watching whatever idiot infomercial is on at 2am. I've considered ditching the temple entirely and heading back to the Miyako Tokyo, but I'm already this far and, besides, I'd have to change trains another gajillion times to get to the Shinkansen in Osaka and then to the right stop on the Yamanote line in Tokyo, and I'm just too tired.

After being dropped off at Koyasan station by the cable car, I walked outside and got drenched again while heading to the bus. I loaded all of my luggage and sat, dejected, as the bus travelled along a very windy road and eventually dropped me off at the stop in front of Sekishoin. I walked inside the gate and dropped my luggage on the ground, then took my shoes off and found the office. I don't know exactly what I was expecting, but it wasn't an office with old papers and pop cans piled up everywhere, which was what I found. The head monk was very nice, helped me get my luggage, and led me to my two-room tatami sleeping arrangement. I immediately headed to the public bath and discovered that Louise was right: they all stare at me because I am white. But they were quite nice and made room for me in the bath, which felt SO GOOD after being soaked through with rain.

I donned the outfit that they provided me, which looks to me for all the world like a set of operating scrubs, and returned to my room. After a few minutes another monk came by and led me to an adjacent room where my shojin ryori meal was waiting for me. Shojin ryori is a type of cuisine that confirms to their Buddhist teachings, which means that in addition to being vegetarian, they also avoid things using plants like leeks and garlic. The spread was vast, and by this time I was so sick to my stomach that I could not do anything more than take one small bite from each dish. The taste was unique and interesting and I probably would have enjoyed it if I had not been predisposed to go on a fasting diet for the next four years.

I eventually returned to my room and collapsed on the futon they had set out for me, but they weren't done with the food yet. The monk knocked again on my door and brought me a bowl of something else, something sort of yellow with the consistency of soft tofu. The idea of eating anything else made me absolutely nauseous, so I left it on the table and went to sleep.

I woke up the next morning at 6:30 to attend the service. I attempted to sit in seiza for the duration of the 30 minute chant (and, I presume, a lecture/sermon, because the head monk came out and nattered on at us for a good 15 minutes over the droning chant of the other monks). Have you ever tried to sit in seiza? Okay, now try to sit in seiza for 30 minutes. With a bum knee that is still inflamed. Nein.

About an hour and a half later, we arrived in Namba station. I found the subway line that took me to Shin-Osaka, where I caught the Shinkansen to Tokyo, arriving in Shinagawa station around 2pm. The Yamanote line took me to Meguro station, where I found an English-speaking pharmacist who could sell me a Japanese version of Imodium and cluck sympathetically when she figured out what was wrong.

The shuttle bus ride to the hotel was mercifully short. I spent the rest of the day convalescing in my room, quite ready to be home again.

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