Today we packed up and went to some old, famous areas near Yokohama. First up: Enoshima, an island covered in shrines, laid in Sagami Bay between the Miura and Izu peninsulas, complete with a view of Mt. Fuji. I felt like I took off from Tokyo and landed in California, complete with Billabong stores and surfers cavorting everywhere. Bear in mind that on December 23rd, the day was sunny and beyond warm. Above: Enoshima station, traditionally modeled. 
To the is Mt. Fuji, with some of the surfers in the foreground. Surfers covered the waters for as far as I could see, palm trees caught the breeze and large hawks soared in the skies. Tourism was alive and well in the coastal community, and everyone seemed prosperous and happy. The only problem with this island paradise? Their meibutsu, or famous product, is shirasu, a tiny fish. It is eaten whole in and on everything. Here, Nik and I pose in front of the sea. In the washed-out background is Mt. Fuji... but you'll have to take my word for it because it was so bright.
We went to eat at a very good local restaurant. What we ate isn't important, although it was delicious and Nik did eat some of those tiny fish. Check out the water situation in the photograph: we each have two tiny glasses of water, and there's a huge pitcher sitting on the table. How did we get to this waterlogged state? Well, a waitress brought three waters to the table while Nik was downstairs checking on the gluten-free-ness of my future meal. He came back up with three more waters in tow. Seeing this, and thinking, "what crazy foreigners," the waitress put the pitcher on the table. In Japan, water glasses are tiny and they almost never get refilled, so we made sure to enjoy our extra water.
After lunch we scampered across the footbridge to the island. We decided to take a scenic walk around the outer ridge of the island to a cave. While we ended up foregoing the cave based on cost, the walk was lovely. We had an amazing view of the ocean with a long ridge of mountains at the horizon, Fuji clearly and prominently displayed. We came to a scenic lookout point with stone tablets made by and for various haiku poets. Because of the light, I only got pictures of two of the five (too many shadows), but it's clear how striking they appeared.
On the way back down, I snapped a picture of this temple guard. Poised in a bed of rocks over the entrance to a small shrine, he menacingly watches over the happenings on his territory. I don't know the mythology behind many of these structures, but they strike me as the balance between fear and awe. They are supposed to strike fear into the hearts of people out to make mischief at the site, and awe into the hearts of people out to worship. This particular dragon is a very famous site to see on the island. I liked him very much.
After the island we took a little train to Kita (north) Kamakura, to visit Kenchou-ji, a large and visually stunning temple. As we entered the general gate, or somon, we could see the main gate, or sanmon, looming before us. It is a glorious, multi-storied structure with large beams and staircases leading up through the gate (presumably for guards or repairmen). This particular gate was built in 1754 by Bansetsu, the chief priest of the temple at the time. It is said that a badger transformed himself into a monk to help build the gate, so it is still called Tanuki Mon, or "badger's gate."
Next up: the incense. This large, ornate structure is in the middle of the grounds (you can see the main gate in the background, between Matt and Nik being idiots). People place burning incense there to commemorate the dead, to honor the Buddha, and just because it smells nice. On either side are juniper trees, planted 750 years ago. Best part: the seeds were from China.
Directly in front of the incense is the Butsuden, or Buddha Hall. This building was moved from Tokyo, piece by piece, to this current location. Not impressed yet? This happened in 1647. The large Buddha pictured below is a representation of Jizo Bosatsu (Kshitigarbha Bodhisattava). We all threw 10 yen coins into the wooden basin in front of the Buddha, clapped twice, and prayed in traditional fashion.
The next building is called Hatto, or Dharma Hall. This is where all major public ceremonies are held, dating from 1814. It is apparently the largest wooden Buddhist structure in Eastern Japan. Inside is the "Fasting Buddha," from Pakistan. He's the skeletal statue in the middle of all the traditional colors of Buddhism. A small dragon keeps watch in front of him (to make sure he doesn't eat?).
The starving Buddha is impressive, no doubt, but I absolutely loved the ceiling, pictured above. Called Unryu-zu, it was recently made (2003) to celebrate the 750th anniversary of the temple.
After these already impressive scenes, we climbed an inordinate amount of stairs up to Hanso-bo, the protecting shrine of the temple. It was originally at a temple in Shizuoka, relocated in 1890 due to a request by then-current Zen master Ozora Kando.
First up, a lion guardian that Matt referred to as a "Fu-Dog." It's a lion-dog, and it guards the Buddha. Many steps later, the purification fountain boasted a tiny dragon. This is at the bottom of the final arduous climb to the temple proper, where devotees wash their hands and intone the proper rites before visiting the deity. On the way up the last steps, a host of guardian statues stood, with warning gestures and foreboding looks. They reminded me of the flying monkeys from the Wizard of Oz. On the temple itself, people hung prayers in various languages - Japanese, Greek, French, Russian, and English were among those I could recognize.
The picture to the left shows my favorite statue. It reminds me of Cyrano de Bergerac (check the giant nose). Matt would like to step in and educate us all about these statues, so I'll turn the page over to him.
[ed. The big-nosed magical beings here are tengu. I know both from losing to one repeatedly in Dead or Alive 2 AND from constantly being compared to one, because of my, uh, Jewish heritage. They are mischievous creatures whose cunning is only matched by their legendary prowess as martial artists, as well as their endless ability to praise their own achievements. So when my students look at my nose and say I'm going to turn into a tengu, it means I look like the self-aggrandizing type. Obviously, they're not familiar with the oeuvre of Woody Allen.]
I'll leave off for now with a photo of our view from the top of the mountain, standing in front of the temple.
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