P3 Tatsumi Bridge – Eternal Stone

A bridge, a shrine and a stone: an interplay of art, culture, and belief on the banks of the Shirakawa River.

Tatsumi Bridge

Another bridge, but don’t worry, this one is not a challenge but a charm. From afar I spotted rows of red pillars with black tips next to a crossroad and a small bridge. That’s Tatsumi Bridge, the most famous bridge in Kyoto thanks to the Hollywood movie “Memoirs of a Geisha” in 2005. Ever since, Tatsumi Bridge has been a hotspot for photos.

By the time we got there, it was dark. The red wooden lanterns, as cute as small pigeon coops, had been lit up. The lights twinkled on the water, bounced off the smooth stone pavement, and peeked through the cherry and willow branches swaying in the breeze. It was an old-fashioned and romantic scene. And we were lucky, not many people snapped pictures that night, so we could chill out watching the lights and the scenery.

As for me, I got curious again. I examined the black writing on the red pillars, wondering what ancient legends or poems they were telling. Turns out I was overthinking. Another day, Emi told me they just listed the names of donors who helped fix the Tatsumi Bridge. Pictographs have the perks of looking very pretty and mysterious to outsiders, no matter what they say.

Despite its modest size, Tatsumi Bridge is a relic of the ancient Heian period (794 – 1185). For centuries, it has been a familiar sight for the residents of Gion, especially the elegant geiko (geisha in Kyoto dialect) and maiko (geiko trainee). The bridge has endured wars, fires, floods, and earthquakes, and witnessed countless stories of romance, passion, and heartbreak. Perhaps none of them can rival the tale of Nitta Sayuri in “Memoirs of a Geisha”, but they are all parts of the captivating history behind this humble bridge.

Tatsumi Bridge is not only a witness of history, but also a source of inspiration for many artists and poets. One of them is Isoda Mataichiro, who painted several beautiful scenes of Kyoto, including “Shirakawa, Gion” in the 1950s. 

His style is simple yet expressive, capturing the serene atmosphere of Tatsumi Bridge covered in snow, the quaint old houses along the river, and the geiko walking gracefully with an umbrella. The painting invites us to wonder about her destination and her thoughts, as she blends in with the snowy landscape.

 Tatsumi Bridge helped me appreciate how cultural values and traditions, when intertwined with a seemingly ordinary scene, can transform it into a marvel. The bridge connects not only two sides of the Shirakawa River, but also the past and the present, weaving together the mysterious world of geiko and the everyday life of visitors. It serves as a testament that the beauty of a scenery lies not only on the surface but also in the depth and richness of its culture, history, and art.

Tatsumi Daimyojin Shrine

There is a small shrine at the corner of the junction in front of Tatsumi Bridge. It caught my eye when I saw some alluring maiko standing in front of it with their hands clasped in respect. They were on their way to a party, dressed in colorful kimonos and adorned with intricate hairpins.

Tatsumi Shrine is dedicated to the Deity of Water and the Deity of Art, the two guardian deities of Gion. Emi told me a legend about a mischievous raccoon. It was a shape-shifter that could take any form it wanted, and it loved to frighten the geiko of Gion as they crossed the nearby Kamo River. However, when the shrine was built, it mysteriously vanished, possibly appeased by the offerings and prayers made there.

The shrine is revered by the locals of Gion, especially geiko and maiko. They often stop by to pray, seeking the blessings of the deities. The maiko ask for guidance and wisdom to master their craft, while the geiko ask for success and prosperity in their endeavors. They also turn to the shrine for comfort and support when they face challenges or hardships in their lives. 

The simplicity of the temple touched my heart. It turns out that faith doesn’t need a grandiose temple or pagoda, but it often exists in simple places close to us. Perhaps this shrine is just a place to symbolize the faith in the hearts of maiko and geiko. In the end, the strength that helps them succeed is still their inner strength: their passion and desire to bring traditional art to life.

Kanikakuni: the Eternal Stone  

Another friend recommended that I check out a rock along the riverside of Shirakawa. She said it was huge, so I would spot it even in the dark. And I did find it. 

A gray stone the size of a baby elephant was sitting there, with white Japanese letters painted on it. This time, I didn’t want to overthink again, so I quickly texted my friend. Luckily I wasn’t overthinking.

On the stone engraved the poem “Kanikakuni” of the poet Isamu Yoshii (1886-1960) about Gion and the Shirakawa river. Yoshii, a master of Japanese romantic lyrics, was in love with Gion and the tea houses that lined the banks of Shirakawa. He lived most of his life in Kyoto, so the city council erected this stone to celebrate his 70th birthday in 1955.

Every year on November 8, geiko and maiko will come and put gorgeous chrysanthemums in front of the stone to honor the master. Maybe they will also murmur the poem on the stone: 

“Oh so deeply I love Gion

Even in my sleep

The stream runs beneath my pillow”  

(English translation on Nerdnormads.com)

Yoshii was truly a master of expressing people’s hearts. I bid farewell to Shirakawa and Kyoto for a while, but my heart still overflows with love for the little blue river and its wonders.

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