Shukubō: Experiencing traditional culture in a hypermodern society

By Kathleen Olive

At some stage in your European travels, you’ve probably stayed in a monastery or convent. You know the drill: curfew is early – 11.00pm, or midnight, if you’re lucky. The room is simple, furnished with heavy wooden furniture and reproductions of Raphael’s Sistine Madonna. The breakfast won’t tempt you into the sin of gluttony. The hot water might run out mid-shower, but the location is very central and the prices so reasonable that you’re not complaining.

Have you also experienced shukubō, Japan’s tradition of temple lodging? It’s a great way to encounter key aspects of traditional culture, from omotenashi (Japan’s exceptional and renowned hospitality) to shojin ryori (Buddhist cuisine) and sentō (the communal bath). Unlike accommodation in a traditional inn or ryokan, temple lodging means that guests engage more fully with a community of faith and its rituals. And if you’re expecting a frugal or dour experience, think again!

Some years ago, I was travelling on my own in Japan and decided on a monastery stay in a popular pilgrimage town. Shukubō is usually available in such spiritual hotspots, and I chose Mount Kōya or “Kōyasan” for its autumnal mood.

Monks on Mount Kōya

Buddhism and Kōyasan

Due south of Osaka, Kōyasan was where Shingon Buddhism first spread in Japan in 805 CE, thanks to a monk called Kūkai. Later known as Kōbō Daishi (‘Grand Master of Righteousness’), Kūkai was sent to Tang China in 804 on a government-sponsored mission. Buddhism in Japan was still in its relative infancy, having been introduced only in the sixth century, and Kūkai was sent to learn more about a fundamental text.

Despite shipwreck, diplomatic delays and other trials, Kūkai returned to Japan with a new, esoteric initiation. He laid out great cosmic mind maps (or mandalas), explained new sutras and taught meditative mantras to enable acolytes to achieve enlightenment. Kōyasan was to be the physical manifestation of this sect, Shingon Buddhism, sitting at the centre of a sacred forest on an eight-peaked mountain chosen for its resemblance to the holy lotus. Shingon was enormously popular and, in addition to the students who flocked to Kōyasan, pilgrims began arriving after Kūkai’s physical death in 835, thanks to the belief that the Great Master lived on there in a non-physical state of eternal meditation.

There are now over 100 monasteries in this small town. When I visited Kōyasan early in December, it was blissfully quiet and crisp, and arriving by train and bus from Kyoto was simple. (There is also the Kōyasan Cable funicular, but it was undergoing maintenance during my stay.) The town itself is best visited on foot, but a local shuttle bus makes the rounds of all the monasteries and so, despite the atmospheric dark of early evening, it was easy to find ‘my’ monastery.

View of the dry landscape garden at Fukuchi-in, Kōyasan
(image: Garberus, Flickr, CC BY-SA 2.0)

Shukubō: what to expect

In fact, to arrive in the daytime might have been to rob myself of some of the atmosphere – the dry landscape garden, or karesansui (literally, “dry mountain water”), outside the monastery was subtly lit by traditional stone lanterns. The pared-back aesthetic of its white gravel and carefully-placed boulders balanced out the profusion of surrounding forest. Stepping onto the verandah, I was invited to remove my shoes, and my suitcase wheels were carefully cleaned before making contact with the spotless floors and mats inside.

My room was simple, traditionally furnished with a low table - and the ever-present tea thermos! - and a futon, whose soft layers made me feel like the proverbial princess and the pea. It only appeared, as if by magic, after I returned from dinner, and was just as magically disappeared during breakfast the following day. No television but instead, in the corner, a tokonoma for me to look at, the traditional niche in which Japanese artworks and ikebana are displayed for a guest’s appreciation. Hidden behind a sliding door was something I was happy to see – a tiny ensuite bathroom with a basin and toilet. (More on bathing later!)

Dinner was included for all guests and served quite early, around 5.00pm, in a beautiful room with ink-painted sliding screens. We sat at low tables on the tatami and were served numerous small courses in the shojin ryori style, a simple, seasonal and exquisite menu of vegetarian food. Popularised from the thirteenth century thanks to Zen Buddhism, and inventively prepared in order to balance the physical body as well as the spiritual mind, it is one of Japan’s most traditional and refined cuisines.

Shojin ryori, traditional Buddhist dining

Eternal meditation and modern vocations

This early dinner suited me, as it allowed me to explore Kōyasan after dark. There’s no fear of a curfew on Kōyasan – the monasteries are simply left unlocked, so you can come and go as you please, secure in the knowledge that passport and valuables are all locked up in the monastery safe. Despite being perched on top of a mountain, Kōyasan is flat, with well-lit roads and temple precincts.

I was headed to Okunoin, Kōyasan’s spiritual centre and one of Japan’s Three Holiest Spots. It is surrounded by an enormous cemetery and, together with a local monk and a handful of other travellers, I took a tour of this tranquil complex. Stone lanterns with flickering candles lit the well-tended paths, and after we had purified ourselves we were permitted to come as close as possible to the small building in which Kūkai still rests in meditation. Monks are rostered on to bring him food and drink every day, more than 1,000 years after the death of his physical body.

Night view of Okunoin cemetery, tranquil and well-tended

Touring with an English-speaking monk gave me significant insight into Japan’s spiritual traditions. A tall, strong man of about 30, he’d been married only a few years and was living in fast-paced Tokyo when he inherited his father’s position at the family temple. This is overwhelmingly how most Japanese enter the Buddhist priesthood today, and my guide was still adapting to the different rhythms and expectations of life in a pilgrimage town. I got the sense that playfully spooking foreigners in a cemetery late at night was an aspect of his new vocation that he really enjoyed…

Breakfast, bathing - and bears!

Shukubō or temple lodging allows for other perspectives on the life of a Japanese Buddhist. Back in my monastery the following morning, I was encouraged to participate in optional meditation and calligraphy sessions. A group of us sat on the engawa, the verandah running around the monastery garden, and were led in guided meditation; others were taught how to grind on an inkstone to paint a personal mantra, something that I have done on visits to other Japanese monasteries and always find more meaningful than I expect.

Breakfast was simple – miso or congee, pickles and rice, a fish course – and so was the bathing. One thing to know about Japanese monastery accommodation is that even a room with an ensuite bathroom is unlikely to offer a private shower or bath. Instead, bathing is communal, separated by gender, in the central bath house. As with so many new Japanese cultural experiences, a laminated sheet of English instructions – with helpful diagrams – ensures that guests commit no faux-pas.

Kōyasan has a number of lovely sites to visit. Kongobuji, one of the most historically significant temples, has a beautiful room with sliding doors (fusuma) that were painted in the seventeenth century by an artist of the celebrated Kano School. The temple’s rock garden – Japan’s largest – is filled with boulders from the birthplace of Kōbō Daishi, symbolically placed. In the Reihokan Museum are scores of priceless mandalas, gilded wooden sculptures and painted scrolls. The Garan hosts a 45-metre-tall vermilion pagoda, and the town’s streets are lined with interesting shops selling everything from high-quality incense made by the monks to excellent flat whites with kawaii or cute designs. (Reader, I indulged in both.)

Before leaving Kōyasan, I wanted to experience one last aspect of its ritual past. This was the Women’s Pilgrimage, a trail that follows the perimeter of the mountain’s eight peaks without ever dipping down into the town: for much of Kōyasan’s history, women were not permitted to enter the sacred precinct. This was as close as they could get. While I didn’t have time to hike the entire route, the section I walked offered beautiful panoramas, as well as friendly signs reminding me that bears were sometimes encountered in these beautiful forests.

Look out, bears about! A helpful public service message on Kōyasan’s Women’s Trail

As my bus drew away from Kōyasan’s Daimon, or main gate, I reflected on the importance of Buddhism to Japan – from the introduction of the nation’s first script, to the extraordinary flowering of art, garden design, cuisine and even tea ceremony that it fostered – and on the ways in which the Japanese celebrate and adapt millennia of tradition to modern life. Temple lodging, or shukubō, is a simple way to encounter this history and to become a part of it, even if only for one night.

The Daimon or main gate at the entrance to Kōyasan

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