Before this day I would have said that I had no idea what this quote could possibly mean. Perhaps afterwards I would feel a little more enlightened. 

In any case, it is certainly relevant . On the 24th we embarked upon the first of our trips outside of Numazu. Our destination was Kamakura, another small city about 50 miles west along the coast. In years gone by Kamakura was considered to be the de facto capital of Japan, but it is fair to say that today it is a shadow of its former self. 

The signs of former grandeur are still there to see however, and attract flocks of camera-toting, ice-cream eating, English-speaking sweaty tourists such as myself. The most famous of which is undoubtedly the giant Buddha. After doing a little research into the size and scale of some of the worlds biggest Buddha's, perhaps this one is not really deserving of the adjective 'giant', but trust me when I say it is big enough! At 43.8 feet tall and weighing 121 tonnes it is a seriously impressive structure.

So, how hard could it possibly be to find such an imposing monument in a small city like Kamakura? Well, quite hard actually. After wandering around aimlessly for about 10 minutes, we decided to ask somebody . Luckily for us, we were accompanied by two fellow English teachers on this trip, both of whom speak pretty good Japanese. Cheryl is an Aussie, Jo-Jo an American, and both have spent a lot of time in Japan.

The first lady we approached offered to take us there herself. She was a fairly tiny thing (as most Japanese women are), probably about 50 and had two shopping bags with her. Great, I thought, we obviously aren't that far away. Despite the time only being about 10 o'clock, I was already suffering in the heat and was looking forward to a leisurely stroll around some gardens and maybe a nice ice-cream at the temple. 

Fast-forward half an hour and we are still walking up a massive hill. By which time, I think a more accurate term for what I was doing might be 'stumbling', but of course the nice Japanese lady was bouncing along happy as Larry. I think I should make clear at this point that this was not the direction the lady was going in when approached, and when the Buddha came into sight and she left, she went back the way we had come . She probably took a good hour out of her day to help us, basically climbing a mountain with her weekly shop in the process. I just can't imagine any situation in which I or anybody else would go to such lengths to help a stranger, much less foreigners, back in the UK. At the time I just put it down to a pretty great act of kindness from one old lady, but I have since discovered that it is a trait many Japanese people share. Consequently, it seems it is a trait which many non-Japanese people take advantage of. 

The Buddha was... a really big Buddha. I haven't run out of superlative's because I was struck with a debilitating sense of awe or wonder, rather, it is just a big Buddha. That's all it is. Maybe it is a character flaw attributable to growing up in a Western culture, but I couldn't help but be disappointed by the lack of... things. I don't know what I wanted, perhaps a water-slide of some kind, or a maybe a nearby McDonalds so I could sit and appreciate the artistry over an ice-cold McFlurry . Hmm, I think the heat may be getting to me. 

After the Buddha, we wandered down the road in search of somewhere to eat. What we found instead was something much better. 

It was the first of many, many Shinto-Buddhist shrines we saw on our trip, and it is certainly my favourite. It cost about 500 Yen (£3-ish) to enter, which I would happily pay again. As soon as you walk in you are confronted by an immaculately kept garden. The type of garden which, when you think of Buddhism, immediately springs to mind. The were several ponds brimming with Koi fish and waterfalls, dragonfly's and even a little turtle. The trees hung low and offered some welcome respite from the midday sun and my favourite part was tucked away in a corner. 

The entrance to the cave was almost as interesting as its contents. On a wall hung tens, if not hundreds of wooden plaques, each with a unique message or wish left by visitors to the shrine . Most were in Japanese, but some were in English and made for painful reading. One showed a father away from his wife and child in the U.S, another claimed that the author was scared to die. Still more were dedicated to loved ones that had passed away, and we spent a sobering couple of minutes reading through them. We decided to leave one of our own, and went with the rather unimaginative wish for 'more joy and happiness in Japan.' Now that I think about it, perhaps it worked.

Inside the cave were hundreds of mini wood carvings, again left by visitors, eerily illuminated by low-burning candles. By the way, these Shinto monks were almost certainly millionaire businessmen in another life. They don't miss a trick when it comes to liberating tourists of their Yen; I believe it was 600 to write a message, and another 300 to buy a carving to leave in the cave. It did amount to a cool atmosphere however, and I certainly felt like I was experiencing something uniquely Japanese .

The temple itself was at the top of another hill, and housed its own fairly formidable Buddha statue as well as a museum. It was all very interesting, and we spent a good half an hour milling around at the top, re-hydrating and burning incense sticks. Bearing in mind that we were looking for somewhere to eat before we even entered the shrine, it was definitely time to find a restaurant. We settled for one on the beach-front, which I believe was California-themed. I had some sort of clam pasta, and Ali invoked a very strong feeling of Futteneid within me (my favourite German word, meaning intense jealousy of anothers food!) by ordering a massive burger. From there we went down on to the beach for a while, although by this time most people were packing up and heading home. 

It wasn't long before we followed suit. I can't say that I felt truly spiritual at any point. Perhaps because I am simply not that kind of person, or perhaps because there was always an underlying feeling that you were just one in a long-procession of tourists being milked for your money. 

Also, I still can't say that I have the foggiest idea what the Buddha was talking about, but, I'm sure that it is very wise.