..Yamas Ideas..
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Rhododendron kaempferi (‘Yama-tsutsuji’ in Japanese) is one of wild azaleas native to Japan.
Taken by the trailside with vintage Pentax 645 2.8/75 lens.
I found the vivid vermilion bloom of ‘Yama-tsutsuji’ by the walking trailside.
Rhododendron kaempferi (‘Yama-tsutsuji’ in Japanese) is one of wild azaleas native to Japan.
Iizuna-yama (飯綱山) volcano seen from Shinano-machi town. There are three volcanos in the municipality, namely, Kurohime-yama and Madarao in addition to the above. Two other volcanos of Takatsuma-yama of Togakushi and Myoukousan are located in the immediate vicinity of the municipality. Only Iizuna-yama was visible on this day among the five volcanos. Snow clouds hid the peak soon after I took this photo.
Iizuna-yama is believed to be home to Iizuna Gongen (飯綱権現) that is a Tengu (天狗), god or spectre, that has human face with a beak and wings and clad in the costume of Shugendou ascetics. He looks like the Hindu god of Garuda.
Iizuna Gongen was invited to the Yakuou'in (薬王院) temple of Takaosan (高尾山) in the suburb of Tokyo in 14th century, gradually overwhelmed the original Buddhist deity of Bhaisajyaguru (薬師如来), and is now regarded as the main deity of Takaosan.
He has been absent for long in his home and almost forgotten like many others who left the town to work in Tokyo.
It is still autumn in Sapporo, but 1023 metres high Teine-yama (Mount Teine) with its array of antennas on the top has already a thin snow cover. Seen from the Teine Highland ski area.
Camera: Canon PowerShot G12.
Edited with GIMP.
‘Yama-zakura’ in full bloom shone by the setting sunlight. Taken by the trailside with vintage Summilux-R 1.4/80 lens.
Cerasus jamasakura (‘Yama-zakura’ in Japanese) is a wild Sakura native to wooded regions in Japan.
‘Yama-tsutsuji’ blooming by the walking trailside. Taken with vintage Summilux-R 1.4/80 lens.
Rhododendron kaempferi (‘Yama-tsutsuji’ in Japanese) is a wild azalea native to Japan.
A lintel depicting the Hindu deity Yama riding a bull above a Kala face at Si Thep Historical Park.
Wikipedia: Si Thep Historical Park is an archaeological site in Thailand's Phetchabun province. It covers the ancient city of Si Thep, a site inhabited from around the third to fifth century CE until the thirteenth century, spanning cultural periods from late prehistory, through Dvaravati, to the golden age of the Khmer Empire. Si Thep was one of the largest known city-states that emerged around the plains of central Thailand in the first millennium, but became abandoned around the time the Thai-speaking cities of Sukhothai and later Ayutthaya emerged as new centers of power in the Chao Phraya River basin.
At first it was quiet. There was a large British party at the back of the terrace, and a young couple behind us speaking German, but apart from that, the place was empty. Of course the fact that most of the other tables appeared to be reserved should have given us a hint. We placed our order - one Zakynthian beef special and one Chicken Souvlaki, and filled our glasses. With water unfortunately, but then again I needed to drive back down to Alykanas after the meal. “Yamas!” grinned a charismatic waiter as he arrived with three unordered shots of something laced with cinnamon and cloves. The third was for himself. I smiled, while almost teetotal Ali grimaced at the ingredients as we drained our glasses. Well one tiny one wouldn’t hurt would it?
And then a distractingly beautiful young woman in a purple evening gown appeared and made for one of the tables on our half of the terrace, where she was rapidly joined by two friends in equally colourful and glamorous attire. That was just the start, as within moments a veritable flood of well dressed locals of all ages and sizes appeared, seemingly from nowhere, and quickly filled every table in the taverna. We’d inadvertently gatecrashed a wedding party. So many beautifully presented people, while we’d crawled in shedding sand wherever we went and looking like the bedraggled survivors of some freak accident in the middle of the Namib Desert. “Yamas!” cried our waiter friend as he visited the large British group and toasted them, along with one for himself of course. He was quite clearly enjoying his role. He reminded me a little of a children’s TV entertainer from my own childhood - one of the much loved and happily untainted ones of course. An avuncular amalgam of John Noakes and Johnny Ball, with more than a dash of mischief added to the mix. As the party gathered pace, heavily laden plates were dispatched to tables and a group of ladies found space to commence the dancing, Greek style of course. It was very convivial, even for the pair of us who fear parties above all other forms of human contact. “Yamas!” came another cry. I wondered how many shots he’d manage in the course of his duties this evening. Two starters arrived. Again, we hadn’t requested them, but our hosts were obviously in a benevolent mood. Maybe one of the staff had overdone the food order for the wedding party.
It was another mountains afternoon, we’d decided earlier on as we idled on the beach at Alykes. The cloud forecast was predicting a dramatic sunset hour, and a brief inspection of the map had found the cliffs at Kampi, a clifftop hamlet on the dramatic west coast. Zakynthos is very much an island of two halves. Much of the low lying areas to the east and south serve the tourist industry, while a drive up onto the high ground of the more remote north and west will lead you to a very different island indeed. The roads are delightfully quiet in October as you rise above the plains on twisting tarmac to embrace a world of bright green pines that fill every square inch of mountainside, while all around you lie neat olive groves, no two trees alike, bulging with fruit waiting to be harvested as soon as the holiday season finally comes to an end.
As we climbed to the edge of the hilltop town of Maries, two small children, brother and sister no doubt, waved a welcome to us from their roadside garden. A little further on a man looked up and smiled shyly as he tended his vegetable plot. I wondered how many visitors came this way on their own. Strangely enough, there were a number of tourist boats here, more than seven hundred metres above sea level, towed inland from the coast to be laid up for the winter. Maybe the owners know something the rest of us don’t, although I didn’t see any queues of matching animals waiting to climb aboard the sleeping vessels.
A little further on we crawled along the track through the silent huddle of buildings at Kampi, before finally arriving here at the viewpoint by the taverna where I’d suggested we refresh the calorie loads. With less than an hour until sunset I went into photography panic mode as the mackerel sky I’d been hoping for disappeared entirely, while Ali scoured the Tripadvisor reviews. I’ve learned to live with this, and it was no surprise to be told that we were going somewhere else for dinner. Not that there was anything that specifically troubled her about my choice, but of course hers would be better, and not so expensive. So here we were at the San Leon Taverna, with two enormous main courses. As things invariably go, she piled what she couldn’t manage onto my plate, a few minutes after which I was struggling to move. “Yamas!” went another cry across the crowded taverna. Things were getting lively as the desserts arrived at our table. We hadn’t ordered dessert either, but it was rude to say no. And despite all the extras, we were only charged for what we’d actually ordered. If you happen to visit the San Leon Taverna, my advice would be to fast for a couple of days in advance and make sure your appetite is sufficiently honed for the experience - especially if you get advance notice of any large social gatherings among the locals. The calorie loads had been refreshed rather more comprehensively than we’d intended. Ali's insistence on closely examining the runners and riders in the vicinity had paid off once again.
The waiter was still at the centre of an awful lot of Yamas related frivolity, and the young woman in the purple dress was leading the dancing. It was time to slip away into the night and nurse our bulging stomachs before we were invited to join in. As we drove slowly back towards our resort, we stopped twice on the otherwise empty road for hedgehogs as they sauntered across the asphalt. Maybe they were heading for one of those mountainside boats. Maybe we needed to check the rain forecast.
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I found a wonderfully secluded, rocky beach not too far from Otaru canal district. It felt far away from anywhere.
Mt Fuji emerges from a layer of clouds as hundreds of tourists all over the world wait with bated breath. They want their chance as they don't have much time and they have come from all over the world to see the 3776 metre icon of Japan. This perspective is from Fujikawaguchiko with the outskirts of the town in the foreground.