We spent most of the day shopping and gawking at the Kyoto handicrafts center. This is five floors of kitsch and beauty, all jumbled together. Since it is mostly about selling things, we couldn't really take any pictures. However, when Ruth and I got a lesson in making the kind of dolls we had seen at the Yuzen Textile Center a couple of days earlier, our teacher let herself be photographed.
Afterwards, we went to the bazaar near Kiyamizu-deru, in the Higashiyama district. Here was the Kyoto of my dreams -- narrow, winding, hilly streets lined with tiny shops and mendicant monks silently holding out their begging bowls.
In one shop, a family of potters sold their wares and gave lessons to tourists.A wonderful combination of tradition and up-to-the-minute technology, they were set up to take credit cards and ship their one-of-a-kind wares all over the world. On the wall, there was a photo of a smiling, middle-aged man squatting next to a loaded kiln. The youngish man who waited on us said that he and his siblings -- who all worked in the shop -- were the fourth generation in the family line of potters. We bought two beautiful cha-wan (rice bowls), one made by the personable fellow who sold them to us, and the other by his sister.
Other shops had kimono, pots, writing brushes, ink, bamboo spoons, hashi, and ubiquitous tourist junk. In between, a quiet stone garden inside a fence, inviting restaurants, and even ordinary (if tiny) homes.
Finally, winding down the hill, we saw the top of an enormoust statue looming in the middle distance beyond a fence with a sign for yet another museum. Glen thinks it might have been the Ryozen Kannon, but we were too tired to find out. A few steps farther on was a relatively wide place in the road where taxis gather to pick up weary tourists at the close of the pilgrim day. We gratefully sank into one, watching the young women in kimono head towards the evening's entertainment.
