When visiting Japan was simply a faraway wish that I wished one day—in a very far distant future—I would get to accomplish, one thing I was completely adamant about was that, if I ever managed to visit Kyoto, I would go to Fushimi Inari Taisha and I would walk through the thousands vermilion Torii Gates all the way up to the top, no matter what.
I suppose the reason I was so adamant about this was to prove to myself that I could do it despite my health conditions. You see, I was diagnosed with premature arthritis in 2017 (when I was 38) and, as a result, I can no longer do certain types of activities. It's hereditary and I suppose it will affect me in a serious way when I'm much, much older; however as long as I avoid certain movements that impact my knees specifically, I should be fine.
Anyway, back to my story. Like I was saying, I think this conviction came from the thought that if I was able to do this, then it was proof that I wasn't as old as this condition sometimes makes me feel. So, when this trip of a lifetime came around, going to Fushimi Inari Taisha was one of the first things I did when I arrived in Kyoto (after recovering from a week-long flu, of course).
For those who don't know, Fushimi Inari-taisha (伏見稲荷大社) is located in Fushimi-ku, Kyoto (Kyoto Prefecture). The shrine sits at the base of Mount Inari, which is 233 metres above sea level. It's the head shrine of the deity (神) Inari, who is the patron of foxes, fertility, rice, tea, sake, agriculture and industry, and general prosperity and worldly success.
It didn't take very long to get there from Kyoto Station, I don't think it was more than fifteen minutes, to be honest, and the great thing is that the entrance to the shrine was right in front of the station, so it wasn't a shrine that was hard to find. There were a lot of people there—as this is a huge tourist spot when in Kyoto—however, they somehow came in batches, so we had time to take photos and videos with absolutely nobody around. Fushimi Inari is a place of worship and respect, and while the scenery was breathtaking—sometimes I still struggle to believe such places truly exist—on some level everything was also a little overwhelming, because deep down there was this tiny part of me that wanted to make sure I wasn't inadvertently doing anything disrespectful.
We continued with our trek, being amazed by our surroundings. In hindsight, I should have probably done a little research, or prepare a little bit better, because I've now seen that this is considered a moderately challenging hike and it couldn't be truer. However, happily sheltered in my ignorance bubble, I kept on going, subtly avoiding the reality that I was struggling. Like, A LOT. I was basically out of breath and had to stop every few minutes to catch up and get it easy on my knees. I mean, I now understand why a lot of people quit and never reach the top. But if the elderly couple which whom we occasionally crossed path with were soldiering on, why couldn't I, right?
I admit that at some point I started not enjoying it anymore and wondered if all this pain—which totally gave me payback afterwards—was worth it. We came across a view point / rest stop and, as I tried to catch my breath and ration the little water I had left (because we used up all our small cash to get our goshuin stamps, and by the time we visited, most of the food/souvenirs shops inside the shrine had closed), I noticed a sign stating it was 20 minutes to the summit, and I thought "Alright, I'm done. I've done all I can, let's go back now".
However, despite my words, my best friend (who was with me during this whole trip, and whose presence was especially important in this particular instance) knew well how much this hike meant to me, and said something along the lines of "I will get your butt to that summit if it's the last thing I do", and somehow convinced me to continue. Halfway through these last twenty minutes, I had stopped near a Torii to catch my breath as I was heavily (while trying to keep quiet) heaving. A Japanese woman approached Silvia asking worriedly if I was alright, and somehow I managed to answer her in between breaths that I was fine (all of this in Japanese, another small victory). She then smiled kindly, and while raising her thumb she told me "頑張って!", which genuinely warmed my heart and almost made me cry (my emotions were all over the place in the last twenty minutes, haha).
Together with Silvia's words of encouragement, this random lady's support contributed to giving me the right push to see this through, and after 46 excruciating flights of stairs (according to my iPhone health app) and 16.5k steps, we reached the Summit. We couldn't take pictures, but we made it and I felt quite content. The hike back was a little bit easier, and by the time we reached the bottom—right where we started—it was well into the afternoon, and saying that we were starving was quite the understatement. There were still a lot of people walking around the shopping street, but we managed to catch a small Japanese restaurant that served hot food (because it was also a little chilly), and we had our first try with Oyakodon—a type of rice bowl with chicken and egg—which was quite an interesting experience! Furthermore, the service was superb. The lady who served us was very kind and brought us tea right away, which was tasty, and I had a second serving as well! A very hearty meal that I would recommend if you're out and about, and need something to warm you up.
Nevertheless, I'm extremely proud of what I accomplished, and grateful for having experienced what I did.
Is Fushimi Inari Taisha on your wish list of places to visit in Japan? Let me know in the comments!
次回まで。♥
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