In Nara the heat did not abate. The sun exploded across a blue sky. Footpath handrails felt like steel rods straight out of the blacksmith’s furnace. English sixty-somethings were transformed into walking beetroots. Like a single friend of the groom at a wedding, the temperature was desperate to remain in its late-thirties. The limited shade available became a lucrative commodity. Some brought their own umbrellas. Others huddled under whatever shadow they could find - be it from a tree, traffic light pole or a roaming deer. Sweat claimed every clean shirt I had. I was led to believe that the sunscreen I possessed was waterproof and so I lathered it all over my face. But it quickly rubbed off in a tsunami of sweat. Milky beads of sunscreen-sweat dragged their way down my face, giving me the appearance of a melting candle.
Nara, though, isn’t famous for heat or sun or sweat. Nara is famous for deer. They traipse across the streets like they own the place. And, to an extent, rightly so. They know that’s why people come to Nara. Some visitors may say it’s to see the shinto shrines perched in bamboo forests or the Todaiji temple with one of Japan’s largest Buddha sculptures. Or, at the time of year I visited, to see the evening lantern festival. But really, everyone is in Nara to see a town overwhelmed by stray animals that aren’t rabies carriers.
And the deer love it. They no longer have to search for food because they know there’s an endless line of tour buses coming to feed them.The animals prod humans for food sold by local vendors in street carts around the park. It’s a symbiosis that benefits the local herd and the local tourist scene. But then again, it is not an equal relationship. After all, it’s generally frowned upon when I take to defecating on the steps leading up to the temple. Or at least, no one comes running unapologetically with a dustpan and brush to clean up after me (I’m sure if I did it it would be seen as a political statement but when the deer do it everyone remains shtum). No one is willing to spend two hundred yen on snacks to feed me. When I chase screaming toddlers down the park lawn I'm quickly shown the door.
It’s an inequality that I thought may have been balanced by the local cuisine. With so many of the creatures roaming the area, I hoped venison might show up on a local menu as the pinnacle of environmentally-conscious cuisine. (Less farm to fork and more temple to tatami.) But, to my surprise, no restaurant was willing to serve up any of the deer.
I wasn’t suggesting that we go out and massacre the population. I’m not on the lookout for some antlers to hang over the mantelpiece so there needn’t be a hunting party dedicated to shooting Bambi. Nor did I think we should treat the situation like an aquarium at a Chinese restaurant where customers get to point to their dinner in the park across the road before a waiter heads over to dispatch the animal (although if a Nara entrepreneur does want to run with the idea I’d happily take a cut). But assumedly every so often a tour bus driver accidentally collides with a doe crossing the highway in which case it wouldn’t hurt to start thinking about having some recipes for venison sushi on hand.
The deer though, with the heat, slowly disappear into the evening. Whilst the temperature still remains warm, the absence of the sun makes for a less oppressive experience. When I visited Nara, the main parks as well as many of the areas surrounding it were set up with hundreds of candles lit by volunteers in the early evening. This created a terrific spectacle with flickering lights glimmering across a dark lake. There were all kinds of fried street food in a long line of stalls. I particularly like the vegetarian okonomiyaki on a stick (well, on a set of disposable chopsticks). The relaxed atmosphere had made me forget the overwhelming heat of the day. Sitting down on a concrete step, I was quickly reminded of the heat I had endured earlier. Despite the sun setting an hour earlier, the step was still hot enough to cook me from the bottom up.
