Memoir of Good Old Days: Meeting Tourists at a Temple in Tokyo—and What Happened Afterwards

 

Please forgive this old person for indulging in a little reminiscence.

Long ago, when I was young, I joined a travel company in Tokyo, near a famous temple. The temple had several tombstones belonging to famous samurai from the 18th century. As new employees, we were told by our senior colleagues that the tombstones were well known, even among tourists from abroad. They told us the story of the samurai, and out of curiosity, we paid a visit to the tombstones to recall those very old days when samurai were still part of Japan's history.

The temple became our sanctuary during our lunch breaks. With the office almost refrigerated by air conditioning from early summer onwards, we escaped from the office and had lunch under a large tree in the temple grounds. The shade was wonderfully comfortable, and with the occasional breeze, we thawed ourselves out after being frozen in the office and enjoyed a leisurely lunch there.

The temple was, indeed, a popular place for visitors from abroad. Several languages could be heard, and people were simply enjoying themselves, taking photographs and looking at the temple's façade.

Sometimes, visitors asked us where the tombstones of the famous samurai were located. We took them to the tombstones, as they were in a somewhat complicated part of the graveyard. I sometimes explained which tombstone belonged to which samurai, and which one was the youngest.

It was easy to tell whether a tombstone belonged to an adult or a young child. In the Buddhist tradition, the deceased are given posthumous Buddhist names, which can indicate various things about the person, including whether they were an adult or a child. These names also reflect the Buddhist belief that the deceased are now in the compassionate care of Buddha, resting in peace. I briefly explained the meaning of these posthumous names to the visitors.

There, I sometimes noticed that a few visitors looked rather arrogant, and they even asked if I wanted a tip. I was baffled, as I was only showing the visitors around as a volunteer. The mystery of "tipping" remained unsolved for some time.

One summer, the temple was alive with tourists from abroad. As I was having my lunch, some visitors asked me to take them to the tombstones, and I did so with pleasure. Some of them even asked me to take a photograph with them. There were still some visitors who raised their chins and asked if I wanted a tip. I declined, explaining that I was doing it purely as a volunteer.

Then one day, I was stopped by one of the temple's monks. Apparently, he had seen me guiding some visitors from abroad and possibly thought that I was up to no good. I explained to him that I was taking the visitors to the tombstones, which were in a somewhat complicated part of the graveyard, and that I was doing it purely as a volunteer.

As someone working in the travel industry, I explained, I felt that I had a certain responsibility to be hospitable to visitors from abroad. I also told the monk that I was asking the visitors to show some respect for the deceased, who were supposed to be resting in peace.

He stared at me, seeming slightly unconvinced.

A few weeks later, I was at the office when the telephone on my desk rang. I picked it up, and it was our general manager. She told me to come to her office.

Our general manager? Wanting me to come to her office? 

I was almost panicking, wondering if I had done anything wrong.

I knocked on her door meekly, still unsure what was about to be revealed. A cheerful voice called, "Come in!" I entered the room and stood by the door, slightly frightened. Our GM gave me a kind, warm smile and said, "Come over here and have a seat."

She offered me a chair beside her desk. As I sat down, she showed me several pieces of paper. They were colour-printed pages written in a language I could not decipher. In the middle of one of them was a group photograph, with me standing among a group of smiling Asian women.

"I heard you spend your lunch breaks at the temple. The monk just came over and gave me these papers. Apparently, you're on a blog in a country that seems to be quite influential. The monk said that many visitors have been showing him this printed page and asking him where the guide is.

"To get to the point—the monk was wondering if you could spare some time during weekdays to do some guiding."

I was completely speechless. I remembered joining a group photograph with many visitors from abroad, but I couldn't remember which group of guests had taken the very photograph that appeared on the printed page.

I managed to reply that I had work to do during weekdays at the office, but that I would be glad to do some guiding on weekends as a volunteer.

The GM contemplated this for a moment and then, with a little smile, said, "OK, I'll tell the monk that you're busy with your work. Just forget about it."

I was utterly shocked that a photograph including my face had appeared on someone's blog somewhere in an unknown country. And the visitors were waving the printed page around and asking for me to guide them? It was such a surreal experience.

Many years later, I learned that in some Asian countries, there are people who might be referred to as "temple guides." They usually sit in front of famous temples, waiting for visitors from abroad, and ask them if they need a guide. They sell copies of guidebooks and show visitors around. This was almost exactly what I had apparently been doing—having lunch on a bench inside the temple grounds and guiding visitors whenever they asked.

That suddenly explained why some visitors had asked me if I wanted a tip. They must have taken me for a "temple guide" who was waiting for customers to take around.

Culture varies from country to country. There are countries where "temple guides" are a normal sight, whereas in Japan, this is quite uncommon. There may be official guides at some temples in Japan. Some are professional guides whom you need to book in advance, while others are volunteer guides.

The temple where I used to spend my lunch breaks now has an audio guide that you can access on your smartphone, as well as volunteer guides whom you can book in advance.

I would recommend that visitors to Japan check a temple's website in advance to see whether volunteer guiding is available and whether advance booking is required.

The days when office workers could spend their lunch breaks at a temple, casually helping visitors as unofficial guides, are probably long gone. And there will certainly be fewer comedy-of-errors moments like mine, when I somehow ended up appearing on someone's blog as though I were an official temple guide.

Digital technology has advanced, and visitors can now comfortably visit temples and learn about their history and culture. So, visitors to Japan, please allow yourself plenty of time to do a little research in advance. It will help make your valuable time in Japan more comfortable, memorable, and perhaps even unforgettable.