After one of my posts about a recent visit to the Nanzenji Temple, my mom mentioned in a comment that one of her books on moss gardening mentions a Giouji Temple in Kyoto for its nice mossy scenes (and I realize today that you can see at Amazon that the back cover features a photo from the temple).

So today, I headed across the city to the far western edge of Kyoto to visit the Giouji Temple (祇王寺 — pronounced with three distinct syllables: “gi” with a hard G, an “ou” (which makes a lengthed “o” sound like in the English “boat”), and a final “ji”).

It's not even really a temple, but more of a little hermitage, as the supplied English pamphlet notes. There's only one small building with a few partitions, appropriate perhaps for meditation or having some tea, but not big enough for much else. All in all, it's all about the gardens, which are superb.

Whatever it is, I'm extremely enamored with it. It's my new favorite garden, and my new favorite secret of Kyoto. It's way off the beaten path... it's quite, supremely serene, and uncrowded (no bus loads of tourists will show up; compare with the last photo in this Kiyomizu Temple post). It's very small, but having spent more than an hour enjoying and taking pictures, there are still sections that I didn't get to.

Of the photos I took, I have 133 “keepers,” most of which I want to share here on my blog. Today's post is just an introduction to the grounds; subsequent posts will concentrate on the mosses (some 18 different types), the small hermitage, a few photogenic snails, two different posts on the wall architectures (short walls and tall walls), and probably a few other things.

Up a few steps, turn left, and you have this long entrance path...

Up and around the corner to the right, you see the entrance gate (left in the photo below) and the posting of entrance fees on the wall: 100 yen for elementary school kids, 300 yen for middle-school kids, 300 yen for high-school kids, and 300 yen for adults; that's about 80 cents and $2.50, respectively.

The entire grounds are really quite small, so the main garden area and the path that goes around it are, of course, even smaller. Yet, even within the small area there are many sections that have their own distinct look and atmosphere, and each presents a different face as you walk around, so by the time you get around, it feels as if you've covered a few miles of wonderful variety. It's amazing and defies all explanation..

It's perhaps difficult to see in the shot above, but in the middle is a gate with a large thatched roof. The path around the main garden goes through this, but turns to follow the garden. However, a wider path leads down to a door in the fence, opened, I'd speculate, only for VIPs and the occasional visiting landscaper. You can see the gate and the thatched roof in the second image of this post (“Giouji as Seen From the Street”)

Everything about this place exudes serenity. The design, the gardening, the architecture.... it's all of the highest caliber. It's not the kind of fancy superficial “high class” you find at stuffy five-star hotels, but the result of what one extremely skilled person might produce for herself during a lifetime of devotion (which is apparently what happened: the site has been a temple or nunnery or something for most of the last thousand years, but it exists in its present state mostly due to the work of a former Geisha, “Chishoni,” who passed away in 1994).

Everything is simple and understated, letting nature do the talking. All the construction materials are natural, and much of it is rotting or otherwise going back to nature to some extent or another, to be replaced only when it can no longer serve its function. The walls, fences, paths, signs, and such are as much part of the garden as the mosses.

As can be seen in the photo above, along the path leading to the entrance is a small wood and bamboo display. It holds a hand-drawn map of the area, highlighting the path to other temples and public transport.

What looks like a path in the shot above is the public street, which dead-ends at the temple. The wall at left is unrelated to the temple; at right is a small parking and turn-around area.

I was the only visitor for much of the time during the hour I was there. At various times pairs of elderly Japanese would walk through with their taxi driver, and at one point a dozen or so extremely well behaved middle-school kids came through. But for the most part, it was my garden.

Sometimes I feel as if the camera is something that separates me from the things I photograph (Anthony playing, visiting a famous spot, etc.), but in this case the camera helped me to slow down and appreciate at a much finer level of detail. A few years ago I would have walked in, thought it was wonderful as I strolled around, and been gone after 10 minutes. Now, I enjoy every detail, and appreciate the small touches that I didn't even notice before.

I can't wait to go back again, preferably with Fumie. It's also supposed to be breathtaking in the fall, so that's on my list, too.

Interestingly enough, I'd headed over to Western Kyoto with the intention to visit Saihouji, also known as Kokedera, “The Moss Temple.” I thought to stop by the tiny Giouji just so I could tell my mom that I did, but what I found was so wonderful that I ran out of time to continue on to the moss temple.

I was thrilled enough with what I found at Giouji, but this evening while writing this post, I found that I was even luckier than I had thought, for it turns out that to visit the Moss Temple, one must pre-apply for a visit by postcard at least a week in advance, and once granted, must pay a fee 10× that of Giouji and perform a couple of hours worth of zen stuff (meditation, chanting, copying sutras, etc.) before being allowed in. Doh! I'll pass.

So, double-thanks for the tip, Mom!