that i went to nara was entirely unremarkable but for the fact that when i set out that morning i had been on the bus to kinkaku-ji in northern kyoto.

*

the kintetsu train would have been cheaper and brought me nearer to the naramachi, but dwaddling too long at kyoto station i had to go on the next, a jr. the station tourism office on the other end was aggressive to the point of rudeness, something i had not thought possible in japan. i was hailed and beckoned when i had no intention of stopping, a map thrust upon me by a fierce matron barking out instructions while tracing a route with a thick marker telling me exactly where i wanted to go and how. in fact, i was going quite somewhere else, but i meekly allow her to tell me, and then was guided by googlemaps the rest of the way.

*

arriving on a hot day and discovering that i could not put my hair up (having left my rubberband behind in the pocket of my other jacket) was a minor vexation, one almost immediately placated by my finding hiraso with no trouble at all. the nara speciality is kakinohazushi, pressed sushi with cured mackerel wrapped in persimmon leaves. neat rectangular green parcels, like ancient jade pillows.

with it, somen in chilled broth with sweet cherry tomato, mushroom, kinshi tamago, chiffonaded shiso, and a black chunk that looked distinctly unpromising but turned out to be extremely flavourful marinated eggplant (a burst of earthy, creamy sweetness in the mouth). before i leave the restaurant i found a spare hair scrungee at the bottom of my bag, afterall.

*

after a while in the naramachi i become self-conscious: other pedestrians, men, primarily, were looking at me. i begin to wonder if if i had got my dress on inside out or if my underthings are somehow showing. finally i decided that the fact of my wearing a dress at all, a long flowy ankle-length grecian dress in bright coral  — the colour is as conspicuous as the length and cut —  was what was drawing attention. this did not cease until i got into nara park itself where the tourists are too blase to bother about other tourists.

[digression] i do not understand other people’s aversion to travelling in long dresses, they are to my mind excellent and exact for the purpose despite the common and erroneous belief that they restrict movement. in the right cut they are flowy and comfortable, in the right material they add little bulk to your luggage; indeed you can also cushion breakables in them. the ones i have take wrinkling well, a sensible consideration when living out of suitcases (i, whose non-travelling wardrobe consists almost entirely of crisp cottons, linens and silks, am never far from an iron.) in cold weather you appreciate the extra coverage, in warm they keep off the direct sun, at all times they mask the scruffiness of travel and confer decorum — they convey modesty if you go into a place of worship and presentability if you go into a restaurant. what is there not to like?

*

five minutes into nara park, the deer become visible, and so do these signs. after a while i become slightly miffed that none of these were happening to me.

(singapore-trained and new-england-fostered when it comes to depictions of diversity, i am also half-amused and half-peeved by the choice of old ladies and young girls on the sign. and do they mean (she snickers) by the ‘X’ in the lower left corner, that the little girl is either killed or swearing fluently?)

*

the pragmatism and selective regard of nara deer when it comes to tourists becomes apparent two hours later, once i buy some deer cracker. i have never felt so blatantly and mercenarily pursued and pressganged as when i held crackers in my hand, nor so rapidly and thoroughly shrugged off as when the crackers run out. after my third 150yen on deer crackers i decide that money would be far better spent on buying myself matcha soft ice-cream, for i would enjoy the ice-cream a lot more than i was enjoying the deer. when deer have been relentlessly butting you and tugging at your clothing and taking nasty nips from your derriere, you soon lose any illusions of sweet bambi.

sacrilegious thoughts, but one begins to wonder: what do they put in these deer crackers, that being offered the same snack day after monotonous day by thousands of tourists the deer still stampede to feed? (the contemptuous boredom of say, a swan in the singapore botanic garden if you tried to toss it some bread ought be the norm — animals on public display in tourist areas are not easily enticed by the mere offer of food.) do they keep the deer slightly underfed deliberately so that they rush tourists for supplements? or are there additives to the crackers, that leave the deer craving and dependent, each an unknowing addict?

*

on my way out of the kasuga taisha i see a sign for a botanical garden and immediately halt. the brochure says it displays 250 types of plants described in japan’s oldest collection of poems, the manyoshu. this is precisely the wrong season to visit any sort of garden (a floral garden when not in the season of blooms is a wretched, woebegone sight that dismays the looker), but when literature and flowers and classifications coincide i felt practically obligated to enter. i buy a ticket and go in. and of course, it was disappointing.

*

todai-ji’s unexpected majestic scale (all wood) silences me for a while.

*

a pleasant encounter with a friendly american man whose deer i had accidentally lured away with my liberal handing out of crackers. he is the only person i have seen in nara who can cuddle a deer without food inducement (thomas wyatt would have been jealous.). for a time we sit by the side of the path not far from nigatsu hall and talk of travel and america and social justice. later, walking back to the train station together, an accident with ice-cream cones and my (ahem) decollete inappropriate for describing here ensued in some boldly flirtatious chatter (wink nudge) that end in nothing because we boarded trains to different japanese cities. he says he is going to hike mt fuji the following week. i wonder if he has succeeded.

*

at the kintetsu station going back to kyoto a jazz duo was performing to a large crowd: posters tell me this is the week of the nara street music festival. i was greatly sorry i could not stay on longer.

*

my nara, i have concluded, is definitely not that of minz-mama’s.