15 days and 350 km into the trip, and I feel as if I've always been here - traveling in Japan from temple to temple. From Ryozenji, the first temple, the path leads along a busy road and through the narrow streets of small rural towns. The roar of passing cars and the clank of farm machinery slowly fade as the path narrows to a small ridge between rice paddies and then widens again to lead through orchards and gardens. Mandarin, sudachi lime, and pomelo are in season. Kiwi vines spawl across trellises and persimmon trees are heavy with bright orange fruit. Pink and purple cosmos dance in the fields against a backdrop of dark pine trees and swaying forests of giant bamboo.
And suddenly the great gate of the next temple comes into view. I bow at the entrance, walk into the temple compound, and gratefully take off my backpack. Other pilgrims are already standing in front of the main hall lighting candles and incense. Fragrant smoke rises from the giant censor as pilgrims chant mantras and prayers.
