Take the side road for Nara's secret treasures

Was Nara really necessary? Kyoto's arsenal of historic temples, shrines and palaces can overwhelm even the most dogged sightseer. Daunted by the combination of my "must see" list, energy-sapping humidity and just four and a half sightseeing days, I couldn't help asking myself the question.

Surprisingly it was my husband, who usually accuses me of trying to pack too much in to holiday itineraries, who prompted me to buck up and stay on plan. Everyone he'd talked to who'd been there had said Nara was magnificent. And they were right.

Nara is primarily known for two things: the world's largest bronze Buddha and an enormous herd of tame deer. While those are both star sights, our day escalated from good to great thanks to an off-the-beaten track route that led us to my favourite garden in Japan and a magical secondary temple with larger-than-life-sized guardian figures that were probably the most memorable statues I saw anywhere in Japan, followed by one of the trip's most memorable meals.

In a country dominated by the modern, Nara is where you can touch true Japanese antiquity. This was the capital of Japan and home to the imperial court before Kyoto. Though the Nara period lasted for less than a century, from 710 to 794, that time coincided with the introduction of Buddhism into Japan. The religion's most important supporters were various Nara-based emperors and empresses who spent enormous ... and many historians would say unwise ... amounts of the national treasury on impressive temple complexes to promote adoption. Artistically, I get the sense that the Nara period is to Japan what the Renaissance is to Italy. Artists seemed to be cranking out masterpieces throughout the 8th century. Any item displayed in a museum from this period seems to be given a sense of reverence.

As with so many historic sites in Japan, there's more here than you'd think at first glance. The "historic monuments of Ancient Nara" that make up the UNESCO World Heritage Site include eight temples, the ruins of an imperial palace and a primeval forest. In a refreshing change from what we saw elsewhere in Japan, most of Nara's temples are in a sprawling park, providing a far more soothing backdrop than the usual urban clutter. It would take you days to see it all. Most people, here on a day trip, head directly for Todai-ji, home of the giant Buddha.

You won't even need to research the main route. Just exit the train station (it's about 90 minutes from Kyoto) and follow the crowds. You'll be walking uphill along the side of a major street that, at first, is lined with modern buildings. But there are immediate hints that this place is different. The venerable old monk collecting money by the fountain. The greenery. The temple and pagoda roofs glimpsed over treetops. And the greedy deer.

Legend says that the god Takemikazuchi arrived riding a deer soon after the capital was built, sworn to protect it. Deer have been sacred ever since, and the kami spirit of the deer ... represented as a chubby boy with a mischievous grin and antlers sprouting from his forehead, has become the informal mascot of the town. Note that these are shinto deities in a place known for its Buddhist shrines. The two religions sit comfortably side by side and the Japanese tend to mix and match bits of both. While I noticed nothing god-like about the deer, they're certainly smart enough to make the most of a good thing. Ladies along the route sell stacks of sika senbai, or deer crackers, for the equivalent of a couple of British pounds. The deer are well aware of where the selling points are and what the crackers look and smell like, developing an instant, dog-like adoration for any tourist who may provide food. Many have learned to bow in order to get their treat.

There are said to be more than 1,200 in the flock and I suspect they're well maintained by the tourists, since by the time we left in the late afternoon most had lost interest in the humans and were sleeping off their full stomachs in the shade.

After a few minutes the path uphill dips into an underpass. When you emerge, you'll see the enormous museum of Nara to your right (sadly, we didn't have time to check it out). Most tourists will continue straight ahead. We turned left, and then right, following signs for Yoshiki-en and Isui-en gardens. (Which I wrote about in this earlier story.) This takes you into a small, beautifully maintained district of traditional homes, many of which seemed to now be used as ryokan, shops or restaurants. As so often happens, the minute we turned off the main route the crowds dropped away. Though a few deer remained.

At the end of the road, on the crown of a modest hill, sits Kaidan-in. This small temple was the ordination hall for the priests who worked across the larger complex. It is a place of enormous peace, with a single temple building sitting in a sea of white gravel, raked into zen patterns and enclosed by high, whitewashed walls.

Inside, after shedding your shoes, you climb up to a wooden walkway that circles a central area where a buddha and protective kannon are enshrined beneath a miniature pagoda. But the star sights here are the guardian figures at each corner.

They are towering depictions of the four heavenly kings, popular guardian figures reminiscent of the Christian archangels. Traditionally, there's one for each point of the compass, and each has his own attributes and weapons. They are spectacularly lifelike and appear as if frozen in a moment of violent action. Swords and spears are poised to strike, demons writhe beneath their feet and their faces show a range of lifelike emotion from terrifying rage to a benign calm. Most amazingly, they are terra cotta, a particularly difficult material to work with at this scale, and more than 1,200 years old. They'd have reached the ripe age of 650 before any artist in the Western world came close to this proficiency with the same material.

Once you've paid your respects to the kings, it's a short walk and deer dodging of a few hundred yards to reach the main temple building of Todai-ji. This is a building on an entirely different scale; one of the largest wooden structures in the world. Approaching it this way will deprive you of the monumental entry through the massive Nandaimon Gate,  with more giant guardian figures glowering in its porches, and a long, processional walkway with lots of subsidiary temples visible across parkland. Don't fret, you can leave that way. The side approach might not be as dramatic, but it will save you from shoulder-to-shoulder throngs of jabbering tourists and traffic jams as people stop to feed the deer. You'll rejoin the crowd once you pay to enter the main temple, but coming by the quiet side route will put you in a more thoughtful mood for the sacred sites ahead.

Todai-ji's main temple building sits at the centre of the back of an enormous rectangular cloister, the centre front forming yet another ceremonial gate. Stalls beneath the covered walkways sell the usual assortment of prayer boards, written requests and lucky charms, plus a fair amount of Nara-themed tourist tat. It's unlikely you'll have eyes for any of that, of course, because you'll naturally head down the paved path through the centre of the cloister and ascend the main temple steps. The building is magnificent, with dark decorative timbers interspersed with white panels, and bright red grills decorating the underside of the swooping roof eaves. Many people won't even notice, so fixated are they on getting to the main event.

The Buddha who looks down upon you through a haze of incense as you enter is 49 feet tall, and he's sitting on a lofty lotus-leaf pedestal which raises him much higher. His golden halo is 87 feet around his shoulders and head, clustered with smaller Buddhas on their own lotus thrones, like a host of angels circling the scene. He is the pure black of worked bronze, making his gold background all the more striking. He's flanked by two golden Bodhisattvas that are almost as big as him; it's the trio taken together that really makes the scene jaw dropping. In front of them are a variety of offerings, from pots of enormous bronze lotus to real pine trees, bowls full of incense sticks and racks of flickering candles. It may be a tourist attraction, but most of the Oriental visitors stop to pray here, in the same way a Catholic might do at St. Peters before exploring the sights. You can walk around the backs of the figures, where you'll encounter more giant guardians and a fascinating model of the complex as it once was. Though this building is impressive, it was three times bigger before being destroyed by fire and rebuilt in the early 17th century.

There are many more temples to see in Nara but by the time we'd finished with Kaidan-in and Todai-ji, we'd had our fill. We needed sustenance of a different kind, so returned by the more well-trodden tourist route to the main street that led down to the train station. There we stumbled into a fabulous sushi place that was part of a complex of restaurants and snack bars around a courtyard with a small, traditional garden. It might have been called Kotonoha, but I'm relying on Google maps after the fact to spot it. The building featured traditional Japanese architecture with a small ante-room and shoe racks before stepping up to a counter to be greeted. To the left, people sat at floor level on tatami mats along long tables and seemed to be tucking in to ice creams and cakes, on the right were rooms with more Western tables and chairs where they were still serving lunch despite the clock pushing 3.

We ordered a set meal sushi combo that came on a spectacular three-tiered stand and came with tools, instructions and the materials to make your own hand rolls. We did a fairly poor job, but had a great time playing about and enjoyed the delicious range of fish, salad and pickled vegetables presented for our delight. For two thirds of the meal we were also the only people in the room behind the sliding paper screens, giving us just a hint of the regal luxury I described when we dined at Yoshida Sanso. Then a bunch of French rugby fans came in and the atmosphere was broken.

By the time we finished it was late afternoon and with at least 90 minutes to get back to Kyoto we admitted that, even though we'd barely scratched the surface of this remarkable place, we had to be getting back to home base. Had Nara been necessary? Absolutely.