The Best of Wanderlust (A GeoEx eBook)

The Best of Wanderlust

On a Quest in Kyoto for Traditional Woodblock Prints

looked at each other and shook their heads. They called over the slightly older twentysomething manager. “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I don’t know of such a shop,” he said, with grave politeness. I asked at an electronics store. I asked at a shoe boutique. Then a little Japanese lantern went on in my head and I realized I should choose the people I asked according to the nature of my question. I found a kimono shop and walked into a hushed world of glorious textures, colors, and forms. The wizened proprietress was sitting at a low desk in the back, sipping green tea from a blue and white porcelain cup. “Excuse me,” I said. “I’m sorry that I’m not shopping for a kimono, but I’m actually looking for a woodblock print shop. Do you know of an ukiyo-e shop in this area?” She paused and looked astutely at me. “Saaaahhhhhhh,” she exhaled in that Japanese way of saying, “That’s a tough one— let me think about this for a bit.” She looked off into space, then back at me again. “I think there is such a shop. Yes, of course, I’m sure it’s still there. I think you mean the shop called Daishodo. They specialize in woodblock prints.” “Ah, that’s wonderful!” I said. “Can you tell me how to get there?” She looked at me appraisingly again. “Let me see.” A hand absently brushed her cloud of white hair. “Ah…” She searched the air. “OK!” she suddenly said. “I’ll take you there.” She abruptly stood up, walked me to the entrance of her shop, turned a neat hand-printed sign on the door to say “Closed” and strode out into the thoroughfare. “This is a good excuse for me to take a little walk,” she said with a laugh. And off we went. She led me twisting and turning through the lively streets— sales being shouted here, jingles spilling out of storefronts there, people shopping everywhere—for almost 20 minutes. As we walked, she told me about the festivals. “Fall is the best time to be here,” she said. “I love the Jidai festival. They parade all

the ancient clothes and cultural items. The history of the city comes to life before your eyes! You must come back. And the color of the momiji maple trees in the hills! So beautiful. Oh, every year I am as excited to see it as if it were the first time.” She told me she had been in business for four decades. “Kyoto’s changed a lot in that time,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s much busier and noisier now. But still there are neighborhoods where the old Kyoto survives. People still care about tradition here, and craft. Some of the finest artists in Japan still have their workshops right around here,” and she swept one arm elegantly over the covered streets as if she were the proud curator of old Kyoto. At the end of the next block, she said, “I think it’s right around here.” And when we reached the end of that block, she said, “It must be the next one.” After a few more such blocks, just when I was beginning to feel like I had led this poor kind woman on a wild woodblock chase, suddenly she pointed excitedly. “There it is! Daishodo!” She pulled my arm urgently across the street. “Is this the place you were looking for?” Beautiful woodblock prints hung artfully in the front window and I could see that the shop was crammed floor to ceiling with delicate colorful exquisite ukiyo-e —just what I was looking for. I thanked her as profusely as I could, bowing as low as I dared. She bowed in return and said with a crinkly smile and a twinkle in her eye, “It was my pleasure! Enjoy your stay in old Kyoto!” I walked into woodblock wonderland: shelf after shelf after shelf of landscapes, geishas, bird studies, city scenes, country scenes—and the travel landscapes I was looking for. Two floors of them! After a heavenly hour of looking, I emerged with five beautiful woodblock prints. And even better, I emerged with a renewed sense of the kindness and grace that imbue the streets and shops and

36

37