During a train trip from Kyoto to Osaka, when I was finishing a guided tour to the old capital city of Japan, the tourist guide asked me what had impressed me the most in Kyoto.
 
I rapidly remembered the beauty of thousands of cherry trees in full bloom; a few of the several million inhabitants, even more delicate than the rest of the Japanese; the exotic oriental food and the ceremonies in which it is served in the traditional restaurant-gardens; the beautiful hand-painted pottery; the incomparable floral arrangements; the music from Kyoto and the thousand religious temples in that region.
 
For a moment, I kept in my mind the several Shinto and Buddhist temples I had visited.
The Heian Shrine, with its orange columns which contrasted with the green roof. The thousand wrapped papers that contained the believers wishes and were tied up in the branches of the trees. The beautiful gardens and lakes. The sound of the faithful clapping their hands, after throwing coins to the wooden boxes and right before praying with a fully convinced look. The long garments of the monks and their even more convinced look. The many objects for sale to avoid car accidents, arrange a good marriage, have good health and long life, etc., etc., etc.
 
The Sanjusangendo, with its one thousand and one wooden statues of Buddha, all similar, but somehow different. The guided tours to visit this famous temple. The box-office at the entrance. The distant and joyful look of the monks. The way those people (me, too) took off their shoes to visit the temple barefooted, fulfilling a ritual which was some milleniums old. The candles in different sizes, shapes and prices. The scent of those substances that are slowly burnt in the temple. The children praying, side-by-side with their parents, apparently well-accustomed to those rituals.
 
The Kiyomizu, with its wide veranda, which reveals a magnificent view of the cherry trees in full bloom near it, and to the city of Kyoto a little farther, offering a favourable environment for meditation. The numerous shops of workmanship and various trifles. The three water-springs: one favourable to health, another to physical beauty and the other to intelligence (it is important to point out that the effect of one cancels the effect of the other, so the believers must  choose only one). The bells and the solemn way the pilgrims ring them. Still the charity wooden boxes. The papers, artistically drawn by monks, were bought religiously by the believers and carelessly by tourists, but all with yen.
 
— The temples!
 
I finally answered the tourist guide. He hadn’t asked what I had preferred, but what had impressed me the most.
 
The man smiled and said:
 
— Because of their beauty or transcendental atmosphere?
 
I looked at him. He was around twenty-something. He was wearing a plaid suit and a tie; this confirmed his position as a senior at the university who was trying to get some money to start his life. He was calm and seemed open-minded. I thought he wouldn’t get angry with my answer.
 
— No. What impressed me the most was the profoundly commercial environment that surrounds the temples, inside and out.
 
The Japanese young man smiled at me in an oriental way and asked me one last thing:
 
— Isn’t it the same in Europe?
 
I remembered Fátima and Lourdes. I imagined Mecca and Jerusalem. I remembered the guided tours to cult places. The wooden or clay images. The papers with drawings of saints or prayers, the strings of beads and the numerous objects that were sold in temples and around them. It occurred to me that the candles in the west have different shapes from those in the east. The charity boxes are also different. The bell is rung in a different way and holy water is used differently. But... I had to be honest in my answer.
 
— Yes. It is more or less the same thing.
 
Until the train stopped in Osaka, I had time to think that, as centuries pass by, man seems to evolve in his existential concepts, changing from primitive animist ideas, from polytheism and from spectacular scenes around his moments of group meditation. The commercial exploitation of the different religions will probably fade in time, until it completely disappears. It is possible that by that time the different concepts will melt into one, enabling us to meet with Truth. 
 
 

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