Nara

We were undecided about going to Nara, a smaller city just under an hour outside of Kyoto. Jay’d heard from Chad—his principle Japan advisor—that it was unimpressive, particularly if you’ve been to Kamakura. Both places sport giant Buddhas, or Daibutsus. The one in Kamakura is said to be modeled after, but artistically superior to, the one in Nara. While the one in Nara was never immortalized in a Rudyard Kipling poem, it does have an antlered mascot. And its home is the Daibutsuden, which is the largest wooden building in the world.

According to my guidebook, Nara was one of the most rewarding destinations in Japan, particularly once you got past the gritty train station area (as I wrote in my Kyoto post, this type of disclaimer was more or less a constant in my guidebook’s introduction to Japanese cities). The guidebook did warn us that Nara’s other star attraction—its deer—may bite. Nonetheless, you could buy cookies to feed them (but don’t eat them yourself, as some tourists have been seen doing). Anyway, R&S saw us off to the train station and wished us luck against the “ass-biting deer,” a wish that Jay took on as a sort of inverse challenge.

Nara was hot as Hades when we arrived in the early afternoon. Our first mission, on our way from the train station to Nara Park, was to find a place to have a nice Japanese lunch, just because we could. But we didn’t. We did see another Mos Burger, and a KFC. By the time we reached the end of the road—just ahead of Nara Park—we settled for Circle K, the Food Lion of Japanese convenience stores. We got our bentos and settled on a bench overlooking a pond, with a view of the five-story pagoda. Or was it the three-story pagoda? They start to run together after a while. Anyway, it was a good spot; you could even describe it as quasi-hanami. There were turtles swimming in the pond and sunning themselves on its rocks. A pigeon even came up and started pecking at Jay’s toes, to the great amusement of those sitting around us. He thought it boded well for getting bitten in the ass by a deer. I don’t remember the contents of our bento; only that I had too much rice, and the dessert I bought was disappointing. But lunch wasn’t bad.

As we set out for our tour of some of Nara Park’s shrines and temples, toting our trash/recycling bags and wilting in the uncomfortable heat, we wondered whether we’d made the right choice. The deer, or sika, didn’t inspire confidence.

Jay: OMG, those deer are MANGY! It’s like they have fleas.
A.: They… really are mangy. Eww.

And they were everywhere. There were signs warning you that the deer may be dangerous through a variety of actions: they “bite,” “kick,” “butt” and “knock down.”

Apparently, they’re less dangerous than the palm-stabbing toothpicks, because the park was full of kids, and adults, feeding the deer.
It didn’t take Jay long to notice that there was deer scat all over the ground. He didn’t take it well.

We headed to the temples-and-shrines part of the park. Except we got lost. Jay blamed me, accused me of having no sense of direction, until he saw that we’d been given an especially unhelpful map. We eventually found our way, but in the meantime, we reverted to one of our recurring discussions.

Jay: I’m so fat. Why am I fat? I don’t understand it. I’m going to have to go on the Lindsay plan.
A.: Or you could stop eating crap.
Jay: I don’t eat that much crap.
A.: You had a whole bag of donuts yesterday.
Jay: That was yesterday. Today is a new day; I’ve turned over a new leaf.
[Pause]
A.: Are you… using zen principles in the service of donut consumption?

This was actually so funny to me that I couldn’t keep walking. I stopped in the streets of Nara to compose myself.

Jay: Is it bad that I was composing haikus during meditation class?
A.: I suppose it’s not the worst thing you can do, so it’s not great, but it’s not bad. Nor is it gay.
Jay: Ha.

By this time, it wasn’t unusual to find Jay counting on his fingers, making sure his haiku syllables were in order.

A.: I’m going to lose my mind if I don’t find recycling.
Jay: See! See! This is what it’s like.
A.: Let’s go see the Kasuga Shrine first.
Jay: I don’t know—I’d better not have spent 53 minutes coming out here and not seen the Buddha.
A.: We’ll see it. The Shrine’s on the way to the Buddha.
Jay: Wah.
A.: Shut up.

You’d think I’d know how to deal with this kind of thing, since I live with a whiny bitch who thinks every minute of the day is her dinner time. Throughout the trip—especially toward the end, when we would wonder whether Jay really had lost his mind—I would use the same lines that don’t work on Gracie, on Jason:

Jay: Wah.
A.: Zip it!

Jay: Wah.
A.: Am I going to have to beat you?

Jay: Wah.
A.: Is Wayne Brady going to have to choke a bitch?

Jay: Wah?
A.: That’s it. I’m going to beat you.
Jay: What are you going to do? Stab me with a toothpick?

This was before the incident. Little did he know how bloody those toothpicks could be.

But I digress. We finally found the Kasuga Shrine, and a recycling bin. We contented ourselves with the lanterns leading up to and surrounding the Shrine,

turning around short of the shrine itself. We were shrined out to the point that I, too, was starting to wonder whether coming out here had been worth it. Good thing our next stop was the Daibutsen. Actually, it wasn’t supposed to be, but we never did figure out that map, so we ended up there without knowing it.

Jay: Could there be more people here?
A.: Do you want to check it out?
Jay: I don’t know.
A.: Let’s just see what it is.
Jay: Wah. It’s 500 yen.
A.: I think it’s the Buddha.

Even though we’d already seen a giant Buddha, Nara’s was a really cool giant Buddha. Surrounded by really cool smaller Buddhas.
We explored the incredibly crowded, but still amazing, Diabutsen.
It was very difficult to capture it on camera, given the lighting, but I kept trying. At one point, I turned and saw a very calm, collected daschund, chilling in her mommy’s arms. I thought, why can’t Gracie chill the f* out? She’d go nuts here. But all over Japan, people were taking their dogs out on the town with them. In Takayama, I would find one calmly enjoying the marionette show.

From the Daibutsen, we made our way to the Nandaimon Gate, whose veranda offered an incredible view of the entire park. We took in the scenery, made all the more amazing by the sakura we’d thought we no longer cared about.
I was really happy with Nara—especially at that point, where it’d cooled down some. I was ready to head back, but Jay realized there was one box he hadn’t checked.

Jay: Oh, no! I didn’t get bitten by a deer! I knew I should have put a cookie in my butt.
A.: [Loses it, for the second time that day].
Jay: That’s not what I mean! Get your mind out of the gutter! I mean, on my butt—so the deer bite me.
A.: [Still laughing]

For better or for worse, Jay’s butt would go un-deer-bitten; it was time to head back. We were tired. This was when Jay threatened gangsta consequences if he didn’t get a beer to take on the train back to Kyoto. Which he didn’t. And the last express train had left, so we took a local one, which was late, giving us plenty of time to wonder how intolerably smoky our room would be. We were so glad it wasn’t bad. The hallway was awful, as it would be in other hotels, even on non-smoking floors, but the room was fine.

Although they left no bite mark, the deer left a lasting impression on Jay. He would tell R&S about how they “bite, kick, butt and take down.” Later, he'd compose a deer-inspired haiku.

Jay: Those mangy deer will take you down!
Richard, looking at the photo of the sign: It says “knock down,” not “take down.” The deer are not going to take you down.
Jay: There was deer poop everywhere.
Susan: How was the giant Buddha?
Jay: Oh, it was awesome. Buddha's house was neat, too.
Richard: “Buddha’s house”? "Next week on Buddha’s crib...”
[Laughter]

You can see how the prefecture of Nara, wanting to honor both Buddha and its deer, would opt to combine the two into one, tacky mascot. I mean, hopefully, you can't. But now you know where they were coming from.