Along the Paths
Last month, we began our journey together from the fabled Nihonbashi Bridge, from which kaido trails emanate outward into capillaries covering every corner of Japan’s main island. However, the most important routes were the ones connecting Edo (present day To-kyo) to Kyo (present day Kyo-to). It is interesting to note that Kyo-to literally means “Capital City”, which it ceased to be when the Meiji Restoration government unofficiously relocated the capital to Edo – rebranded as To-kyo meaning the “Eastern Capital” – in its march towards rapid modernization, or more appropriately westernization. Alas, the learned elites from the venerated city were forced to uproot and reestablish themselves in the city conceptually framed as a wild frontier for unenlightened masses, yet full of potential (refer to excerpt from Part 1: The Beginning and the End). As if by stubborn inculcation or nostalgic reminiscence, we still call Kyo-to for which it is no longer.
From Nihonbashi bridge onward, there were a series of point elements that would align the entire kaido trails. There are few types of these points that can be categorized as: 1) lines connecting pre-existing points; 2) points aggregating along paths; or 3) a hybrid of both. The largest of these points were tsugi, or stations, usually predetermined by important feudal cities, such as Okazaki or Odawara, but some station towns were established anew which would soon prosper with commercial activities fueled by bustling inns, such as Shinagawa. Relatively smaller complexes but a more critical infrastructure of kaido trails were sekisho or checkpoints where local magistrates and guards would review one’s travel credentials, Hakone being the most infamous of this lot. These stations were irregular in interval, and as such, what really marked the regularity in rhythm of the kaido trails from start to finish were a pair of ichiri-zuka mounds. These earthen mounds marked one (ichi) unit of ri, a traditional measurement for distance that is roughly 3.9km, which were not only milestones in one’s journey, but also the much needed respite nodes. Often surmounted by a nettle tree, its widespread foliage gave cover to travellers during sudden rain-storms or sweltering summer sunshine, but also, its roots held the earthwork intact, therefore preserving the form of bespoke mounds. Amazing design that combined landscaping, interstate road system, and resilience planning!
The next hierarchical layer of point elements are shrines and temples, some predating the kaido trails, and other shrines and temples created by abutting villages sprouting after its inception. Going to each and every one of them can take a bit of time and effort, thus it is recommended to be selective on which shinto or buddhist establishments to digress from the main path. The smallest yet most variegated point elements that makes the otherwise interminable linearity of kaido trails bearable were the assortment of stone statues ranging from taoist traditions, shinto deities, buddhas and bodhisattvas, as well as hybrids thereof. Just to name a few, there are horse-crowned Bato-kannon, bald Jizo bodhisattva, a Taoist-Buddhist-Shinto chimera Koshinzuka, and folksy Dousoshin.
Cumulatively, these points animate the linear kaido trails, but they are also a dying species today. The woodblock prints of Hokusai and Hiroshige have become historical documentations, though at times simulacral, instead of its intended origin as a contemporaneous travel chronicle accessible to commoners for pennies. In other words, that is how much the original landscape has changed. Some station villages have ceased to exist altogether, marked only with a token epitaph of stone markers. More brazen developments have supplanted villages for shopping malls, cookie-cut ready-built houses, or better yet, the profane galore of love hotels. Much of ichiri-zuka mounds, or at best one of the pairs, were demolished to make way for concrete highways. Temples and shrines of lesser notes are in tatters as parishioners disappeared together with station villages. Final vestiges of stone deities run the all-too-familiar gambit of neglect, relocations into huddled masses, or demolition without a trace. Increasingly, homogenization engendered by modernity has placed a premium on mediocrity. Now, let’s not be naive or nostalgic to say bring back the landscape. However, we as contemporaries of these challenging times, should strive towards maximizing the potential of localized developments and regeneration that does not hash over history and qualities of a place, but rather is augmented by new methods and technological advancements, hopefully more than just virtual reality tours of now-bygone places.
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Next month, we will continue on this theme of “Reasons to Run the Kaido Trails” onto the collective points and lines culminating into a field of network.
Thank you for your time and kind attention. Until next time!
English Writing: Kaz Yoneda
Peer Reader: Gregory Serweta
Editor: Hinako Izuhara
Associate: Tatsuri Sonobe