Miyajima (宮島) is a very popular attraction with both Japanese and foreign tourists, and with good reason. The island, said to provide one of Japan’s three best views, is home to Itsukushima Jinja (厳島神社), the famous UNESCO World Heritage Site with the ever-popular floating torii (鳥居), a number of Buddhist temples, and picturesque Momijidani Park (紅葉谷公園).

The island, officially named Itsukushima (厳島), has been considered sacred throughout much of Japanese history. Itsukushima Jinja has existed in some form since at least the sixth century, when it was dedicated to the three daughters of the Shinto sea god Susano-o-no-Mikoto (須佐之男命). It has been in its current form since 1168. Historically, average citizens were strictly forbidden from setting foot on the island; they were required to come by boat, first passing under the giant torii, if they wished to make an offering to the shrine. To this day, to preserve the purity of the island, all burials are prohibited on Itsukushima.

I spent Sunday and and part of Monday on Itsukushima with a few friends. Since it was the first time visiting Miyajima for all of us, after riding the ferry from the mainland and soaking up the sunshine and beautiful view from the boat, we headed straight for the main attraction: Itsukushima Jinja, home of the iconic “floating” torii. Contrary to popular belief, it’s not actually floating; it only appears to be doing so during high tide, and we had luckily arrived at the right time to see the gate appear to float. The torii is built in a somewhat unusual style known as yotsu-ashi, whereby four additional “legs” are used to provide additional stability. The shrine itself is equally stunning. Though the general idea is the same as at every other Shinto shrine in Japan - clap your hands, bow, toss a coin, pray, get your fortune, and buy some lucky charms - the amazing architecture and design of Itsukushima Jinja make a visit definitely worthwhile. The way the majority of the shrine is built out into the water on a pier-like structure of covered decking is truly unique; walking through the series of airy, open porches is a wonderful experience. Of course, the view out to the sea and up into the surrounding mountains from the shrine is also stunning.

After walking through the shrine, we headed off to Miyajima’s small, quaint shopping district for lunch, but resolved to come back to the shrine again later to see what it looked like during low tide. We sampled the delicious local specialty, anago (穴子), salt-water eel, at a small restaurant. Less oily and rich than unagi (うなぎ), its freshwater cousin, it is often simmered or deep fried rather than being barbequed in a sweet sauce.

In addition to the many restaurants lining its streets, Miyajima’s shopping area is home to dozens of souvenier stalls and shops. The area is famous for its hand-made rice scoops, called shakushi (杓子), which are available in a number of varities from countless souvenier - omiyage (おみやげ) - vendors on the island. If you find the standard-sized scoops a bit boring, you can always take a look at Miyajima’s famous gigantic rice scoop, on display next to a storefront. At well over 5m long, it is claimed to be the world’s largest, and I was certainly inclined to believe this. Aside from the rice scoops, Miyajima is also famous for momiji manjuu (もみじ饅頭), small, leaf-shaped cakes filled with sweet bean paste. In many storefronts, it was possible to watch the cakes being made in specially-designed molds and then immediately buy a fresh, warm box of the delicious sweets. For the sake of a Kitty-chan-obsessed friend, I also stopped at the island’s official Sanrio shop, complete with a shrine to Kitty-chan, to buy a small trinket. In addition to the usual Hello Kitty fare, the store was home to a number of Miyajima-exclusive items that are available nowhere else in Japan or the world.

After tiring of the souveniers and shopping, we headed back toward the shrine. By the time we returned, the tide was going out, and families could be seen enjoying newly-uncovered beaches. For a moment, standing on the beach in the sunshine, looking up at the mountains, and watching the waves gently wash over the sand, I began to feel more like I was in Hawai’i or Ko Samui than Japan. A quick look over towards Itsukushima Jinja, though, and there was no mistaking the locale. It was now beginning to be possible to walk out under the giant torii, and a number of visitors to the shrine used the opportunity to place coins between cracks in the gate, a practice claimed to make one’s wishes come true.

Near the exit to the shrine was the Houmotsukan (宝物館), or Treasure House. The small but worthwhile museum contains 228 items that have been designated as either National Treasures or Important Cultural Properties. All of the items in the museum were donated to the shrine at one time or another by the victors of battles that took place on the Seto Sea or by grateful sailors. I found the full sets of beautifully-gilded armor on display to be especially interesting, but also enjoyed the ancient masks, musical instruments, and art on exhibit.

We walked around a bit more, coming across a number of the island’s non-human residents in the process. Unlike in Nara, where street vendors selling cookies for the deer can be found on practically every corner, on Miyajima, deer food is hard to come by, so the unfortunate deer are reduced to eating scraps of paper and robbing the bags of passing tourists.

Towards dinner time, we walked up into Momijidani Park, a hilly park located at the base of Mt. Misen along the Momijidani River. Famous for, as its name implies, its beautiful maple (momiji) leaves, the park is also home to Iwaso (岩惣), the ryokan where we would be spending the night. With a legacy dating back to 1854, Iwaso is considered to be the most luxurious and best accomodation on the island, and is priced to match. The experience, however, is well worth the cost. Included with the accomodations is a magnificent kaiseki dinner and either a Japanese- or Western-style breakfast and access to Iwaso’s two hot spring baths.

The suite we stayed in consisted of two Japanese-style tatami rooms, a Western-style bath and toilet, an entryway area for removing shoes, and a lovely balcony overlooking a small stream and waterfall. Just moments after we had entered the room, a woman dressed in a beautiful kimono came to serve us green tea and a plate of momiji manjuu cakes made at the inn and inquired as to what time we would like to have dinner. The room was very simply furnished, with only a low table in the center of one of the tatami rooms and a small table and chair set on the balcony. It was simply decorated as well; there was only a painted scroll hung on a wall and a beautiful ikebana flower arrangement set in front of it in the room’s tokonoma (床の間).

After we had settled into our room, we headed downstairs for a bath before dinner. Bathing in a Japanese onsen (hot spring) is a truly unique, relaxing experience. Each onsen has its own claim to fame, its own distinct list of benefits, its own list of medical conditions supposedly remedied by soaking in its waters. Iwaso’s springs are famous because they contain small amounts of radon, which is claimed to be beneficial for those with chronic skin diseases, poor circulation, hypertension, and a handful of other conditions. Of course, wanting to ensure that no one feels left out, the inn’s management notes that the water is also good simply for “the general improvement of health.” To many foreigners, the concept of sitting naked in a tub with a bunch of strangers is disconcerting. Once you get used to the idea, however, onsen are an exteremly enjoyable, relaxing, and refreshing experience, especially after a long day of traipsing around a mountainous island.

As is the case at almost all ryokan, Iwaso’s kaiseki dinner was served in our room. It consisted of over ten beautifully-presented dishes which prominently featured fresh, local, seasonal ingredients. Just the first course alone consisted of shrimp sushi, a whole crab (all of which was eaten), shellfish, and roe. After that, a seemingly neverending parade of food continued to be delivered to our room: salt-encrusted ayu, various types of sashimi, shrimp inside crispy dough pockets, more fish, bowls of rice… One of the highlights of the meal was a do-it-yourself stirfry: a plate conataining thinly-sliced beef, onions, mushrooms, baby corn, and asparagus, along with a small, lit cooking burner onto which these components were to be placed. Eventually, dessert, a melon slice, fresh fruit, and a mousse-like berry dish was served.

By the time we had finished eating the huge (and delicious) meal, it was already dark outside. Since Itsukushima Jinja is lit at night, we decided to head out for a walk down to the shrine. The night was perfectly clear, with the first stars just starting to appear in the sky as we headed towards the beach. With all the day-tripping tourists who had swarmed over the island earlier in the day gone, the area around the shrine had a very peaceful, relaxed feel. The shrine itself looked beautiful bathed in the glow of lanterns and spotlights, and the giant torii, by now again appearing to float, seemed truly magical sitting under the crescent moon and star-filled sky.

After trying in vain to get more than one or two good shots of the shrine and island at night, we headed back to Iwaso, where we found our comfy-looking (and feeling) futons waiting for us, and quickly fell asleep to the trickle of the waterfall outside our window.

The ancient city of Kyoto, the capital of Japan for over 1,000 years, is home to many of the most famous Buddhist temples and Shinto shrines in Japan. A collection of some of the most famous of these can be found along the Path of Philosophy (in Japanese, Tetsugaku no Michi or 哲学の道), a narrow trail following a canal that winds through the Higashiyama (東山) district of Kyoto, roughly from Ginkaku-ji (銀閣寺) to Nanzen-ji (南禅寺).

While the walk and certainly the temples and shrines along it are beautiful at any time of the year, walking the path in the spring when the cherry trees that line almost its entire length are in full bloom is especially nice.

It was with this in mind that I set out for the Path of Philosophy this morning during the peak of Kyoto’s sakura season. As could be expected of one of the most popular locations in Kyoto for enjoying the sakura, the path was filled with people. This did nothing to take away from the beauty of the surroundings, however. Walking the tree-lined path, listening to the water run along the canal, ducking inside the traditional shops, and experiencing the quiet calm of the temples and shrines made me feel as if I had been transported back in time to the Kyoto of long ago - at least until I was reminded that I was still in the middle of a modern city of almost 1.5 million residents by a taxi cab that sped up the road to one of the temples I was visiting, parked right next to a mound of raked sand, and almost ran over a number of people in the process.

Ginkaku-ji, the shogunate villa turned Buddhist temple, is the northern terminus of the Path of Philosophy. Its elaborate sand sculptings and perfectly manicured hillside moss gardens make it the path’s most famous and popular temple. The villa and its grounds are considered to be a prime example of refined Japanese design and architecture. However, since I’d already been to Ginkaku-ji previously, I bypassed it this time in favor of some comparatively neglected locations.

Honen-in is one such temple. Though mentioned in some guidebooks and clearly signposted in both English and Japanese, only a small trickle of tourists makes the five minute uphill trek from the Path of Philosophy to Honen-in’s entrance. Inside, a lone sakura tree added a flair of color to the temple’s Buddhist cemetery and a pair of turtles sat sunning themselves on a row of submerged logs in the temple pond. Trees cast shadows on the moss-covered ground and a carefully-placed leaf directed the flow of a stream of water. Here, there was no admission fee, no gift shop. Instead of ticket checkers and docents, I saw monks. Relatives stopped by the cemetery to visit the graves of their ancestors. Compared with Ginkaku-ji, Honen-in is a far better example of a normal, working temple complex.

Just a few minutes away from the crowds along the Path of Philosophy, homes lined a deserted narrow mountain street. When the wind blew, sakura petals slowly fell and covered the ground as though they were snowflakes. And then, out of nowhere, came a string of giant yellow schoolbuses for the Eikando Kintergarten with big plastic babies stuck on their fronts. If there is one thing I learned from walking the Path of Philosophy, it is to never underestimate Japan’s ability to throw something totally unexpected at you.

Yasujuni Jinja, a Shinto shrine located in Tokyo, attracts a lot of controversy. This controversy has recently placed the shrine at the center of a number of international political issues, and as a result, many people outside of Japan have read about the shrine in newspapers or heard about it on television.

Originally called Tokyo Shokonsha, the shrine was created in 1869 to honor those killed in the wars surrounding Emperor Meiji’s return to power. In 1879, it was renamed as Yasukuni Jinja and became one of the most important shrines connected with state-sponsored Shinto. Over 2.5 million souls are enshrined at Yasukuni, representing all Japanese (as well as some Koreans and Chinese) who died in the service of Imperial Japan through the end of World War II.

It is from this fact that the controversy surrounding the shrine stems: among these millions are 1,068 who were convicted of war crimes at the end of World War II, including 12 Class A war criminals. Visits to Yasukuni by Japanese government ministers (including the annual visits that former prime minster Koizumi Junichiro made) have been protested by China, Korea, and Taiwan and are frequently the subject of political contention.

Even within Japan, views differ on the issue of the enshrined war criminals. However, for most Japanese, Yasukuni Jinja is simply a place to honor those who died in war and remember history. While the shrine itself is interesting, Yasukuni Jinja also has a nicely-presented museum detailing the history of wars in Japan through World War II that is in my opinion the star attraction. The museum contains a wide variety of artifacts and exhibits, including among other things some beautiful examples of Japanese armor and weaponry from a number of different periods in Japanese history. Also featured are human torpedoes, World War II-era airplanes and tanks, and items recovered from planes and boats destroyed in World War II. There are many English signs explaining the various exhibits, though much more information is available only in Japanese.

The musuem’s account of the war is definitely slanted in such a way as to make Japan’s military actions appear to have been the right and justifiable course of action in each and every situation. However, the museum explores some interesting events that most Western accounts leave out, and makes you consider the ways in which the accounts of history you are more familiar with are also slanted in a different way. What if Japan had won World War II instead? Why isn’t Truman considered a war criminal? After all, what could be considered a worse “crime against humanity” than the use of the two most distructive weapons the world has ever seen? The museum raises a number of questions such as these that are worth considering.

The museum at Yasukuni is often criticized as glorifying war. While many of the exhibits are undeniably militaristic, the final rooms of the museum make it difficult to leave with that impression. An entire wall is filled with books of letters, one of which is translated into English, sent by soldiers to family and friends. Many of the letters are heartwrenching; in many, soldiers write to their children and loved ones with advice or memories, clearly realizing that they will never return home. The final room’s central exhibit is a case filled with bride dolls. These were sent to the shrine by grieving mothers whose young sons had been killed in World War II before they had a chance to marry. The dolls were intended to provide comfort in the afterlife for these victims of war. By the time I reached the end of the museum, I was left with the distinct impression that war was anything but glorious.

In addition to the shrine itself and the museum, Yasukuni Jinja has a nice, small garden that is worth a visit.

Its controversial nature and excellent museum make Yasukuni Jinja well worth visiting at any time of year, but the sakura trees throughout the shrine make late March through early April an especially nice time.

Tokyo’s Harajuku district is famous for a number of things - the costumed teenagers who each Sunday afternoon stand on the bridge in front of the station, the famous Omotesando shopping street, and the beautiful Meiji Jingu being among the most famous. I came to see all three.

Walking out the main entrance of JR’s Harajuku Station, I immediately found myself in the middle of a crowd of cosplayers and street performers. The cosplayers come in a variety of styles, ranging from gothlic lolita to visual kei. Street musicians wander among the crowds, carrying their guitars, microphones, and portable amplifiers with them as they go. Someone in an orange spacesuit makes a glass orb appear to hover in the air and move without being touched while moving hypnotically. A group offers “free hugs” to passersby, but I don’t see anyone take them up on it. Near the entrance to Yoyogi Park, a group of breakdancers blasts a boombox and puts on a show for the crowd gathered around them. It’s a good arrangment - the people hanging around the Harajuku bridge and in front of Yoyogi Park are there to be seen and heard, and the thousands of tourists from Japan and abroad coming to Harajuku each weekend are there to stare at them, listen, and take pictures.

Just a few seconds away from these noisy crowds is the main entrance to the peaceful Meiji Jingu (明治神宮). Founded in 1920, Meiji Jingu enshrines the souls of Empress Meiji and his wife, Empress Shoken. Set within a 175 acre forest, the shrine is a perfect refuge from the hustle and bustle of Harajuku that surrounds it. Meiji Jingu is famous for being the home of Japan’s largest wooden torii, made out of beautiful hinoki (Japanese cypress). Several festivals are held throughout the year, and several million people visit on New Year’s. I was lucky enough to see a traditional Shinto wedding and some sort of special event involving traditionally costumed men, drums, and swords which no one I asked understood. I watched as people visting from around the world wrote their prayers and wishes on ema (絵馬), wooden boards hung for the gods (and mortals) to view, in dozens of languages.

After tossing a coin into the offering box and praying for the always popular goal of world peace, I started back toward the entrance to the shrine. Along the way, though, I paid the few hundred yen to enter the shrine’s garden. It was well worth the small entrance fee even though the Empress’ iris garden, the star attraction, was not in bloom. Perfectly manicured bushes, small, delicate bamboo fences, and a nice pond made for a pleasant walk. Meiji Jingu also has a treasure museum, but I didn’t stop and instead headed on to rejoin the frenzy outside along Omotesando.

The fashions here were somewhat more mainstream. The busy Omotesando is lined with expensive designer boutiques from the likes of Louis Vuitton and Gucci, trendy comsetic shops, and the modern Omotesando Hills shopping complex. Tourist trap Oriental Bazaar, a one-stop souvenier emporium selling lots of made-in-China reproductions of traditional Japanese goods (as well as some authentic items, though low quality ones), is also located along Omotesando and may be worth a look if you have people you feel obligated to buy souveniers for but don’t want to spend the money on high-quality items. Among the back streets and alleys along Omotesando are a variety of small restaurants, bars, and shops.

After exhausting the window shopping possibilities of Omotesando, I backtracked to the entrance to Takeshita Street, home to dozens of independent shops offering for sale many fashions of the style being worn by the cosplayers standing just a few blocks away. Even though the street is well under a kilometer in length, the throngs of teenage shoppers combined with my window shopping prevented me from reaching the end for the better part of an hour. The offerings from the stores along this street range from the strange to creepy, and anything remotely representing “normal” for any area of the world other than Harajuku is impossible to find here.

At the end of Takeshita Street, I pause to get something to drink at the Starbucks on the corner and reflect on the afternoon’s experiences. Harajuku is a place of sharp contrasts such as can only be found in Tokyo. Crazy youth fashions and loud rock music are separated from the traditional beauty of Meiji Jingu and its far more conservatively dressed visitors by a seemingly invisible line drawn across a strip of pavement. While in the middle of the Empress’ iris garden, it is easy to forget that you are only a few hundred feet away from a girl with bleached hair dressed as a vampire, and likewise it is difficult to imagine that a 175 acre forest could possibly exist just two minutes away when standing in the middle of a crowd on Takeshita Street. Japan is a land filled with contrasts like this, but the area around Harajuku Station is definitely one of the better places to experience this juxtaposition of seeming incompatible worlds.