At Fukuoka, on my last day in Japan before taking the ferry to Korea from its Hakata International Port, I visited the Gion area to see the wooden Buddha at Shofukuji Temple.
On arrival, the temple was almost full of people, sitting with their legs tucked under them facing the altar at the front. Three monks sat, also with their backs to the entrance, poised in front of three large drums. Shortly they began to bang out a rhythm, a mesmerising beat that gave rise to a humming noise from the congregation. Two more monks started a fire on the left hand side of the temple, the flames flickering high up towards the roof.
Then the chanting began, the monks first, everyone else gradually joining in. The chanting would sometimes quieten slightly before stopping and then resuming after a skipped beat, giving a staccato effect that made the hair on my arms stand on end.
A different kind of Sunday afternoon service was underway at Momochi beach. Some form of concert was taking place, a group of tents selling beer and food centred around a stage where a weird hybrid of Japanese pop and techno music blasted loud enough to make grains of sand jump up and down. There were dancers on stage - girls in bikinis, people dressed in animal costumes.
Further away, towards a pier with a hotel on it, young people bathed and took photos of each other in the sea while wearing full anime costumes. Girls wore wigs matching the colour of their bikinis - one bright blue, one bright yellow, their photographs being taken by all and sundry.
A man dressed head to toe in a black jumpsuit with a creepy-looking face mask walked across the wooden boardwalk carrying a black suitcase. He pulled out a second mask - the face of the ghost character from Miyazaki's Spirited Away - sat down, and looked out over the beach.
Beautiful, traditional, hyper-modern, and bizarre. All in one day.
On arrival, the temple was almost full of people, sitting with their legs tucked under them facing the altar at the front. Three monks sat, also with their backs to the entrance, poised in front of three large drums. Shortly they began to bang out a rhythm, a mesmerising beat that gave rise to a humming noise from the congregation. Two more monks started a fire on the left hand side of the temple, the flames flickering high up towards the roof.
Then the chanting began, the monks first, everyone else gradually joining in. The chanting would sometimes quieten slightly before stopping and then resuming after a skipped beat, giving a staccato effect that made the hair on my arms stand on end.
A different kind of Sunday afternoon service was underway at Momochi beach. Some form of concert was taking place, a group of tents selling beer and food centred around a stage where a weird hybrid of Japanese pop and techno music blasted loud enough to make grains of sand jump up and down. There were dancers on stage - girls in bikinis, people dressed in animal costumes.
Further away, towards a pier with a hotel on it, young people bathed and took photos of each other in the sea while wearing full anime costumes. Girls wore wigs matching the colour of their bikinis - one bright blue, one bright yellow, their photographs being taken by all and sundry.
A man dressed head to toe in a black jumpsuit with a creepy-looking face mask walked across the wooden boardwalk carrying a black suitcase. He pulled out a second mask - the face of the ghost character from Miyazaki's Spirited Away - sat down, and looked out over the beach.
Beautiful, traditional, hyper-modern, and bizarre. All in one day.
