It was around 4:30 before I decided to head back towards the temple where I was staying. The sun was setting on the other side of the mountain, so darkness was coming quickly. The mild desolation that I saw earlier foreshadowed the emptiness of the streets that came at sundown. The man from earlier was no longer at the gate, the young monks in the rooms adjourning the entrance hall were gone, and the chanting no longer echoed through the temples. Since leaving Okunoin, I went to my room without encountering anyone.

The gong from the temple's ceremonial hall sounded at 5:00, and a knock rapped on my door. Another young monk informed me that, with his limited English, "dinner is ready - please follow me." I asked if dinner was served elsewhere, and he nodded. He led me down the stairs. We veered to the right, leading to rooms below the bedrooms. The first room once again had a pair of slippers lying before them. I was once again directed to the room next to theirs. It was slightly smaller than the room I'd be sleeping in and housed three small tables on the tatami. The monk guided me to sit in front of the tables while another monk came in with a tray as large as the table.

"These are all vegetarian," the monk explains, moving plates and covered bowls with various food items onto the table. When he finished setting everything up, it felt like there was no more space for anything else. I say "thank you" as the monk says a short prayer, bows, and leaves before closing the door. Something impressive can be said about eating in the centre of a room alone in silence.

Well, the silence was short-lived. As I navigated the various bowls on the table, I heard another monk guide another guest to the other room next to mine. "Oh wow," the man exclaims, "this is so cool!" They lead the man to the table, where he gives a short chuckle and says, "Oh my God, this is amazing!" As the sound of plates and bowls knocks against the table, with great enthusiasm, the man exclaims, "This looks so good!" As he devours his first dish before him, the man makes ecstatic moans and repeatedly exclaims his amazement at the food. There is something also unique to be said about hearing noises of excitement after having spent hours in silence.

After dinner, I head back into the hallway, where I can still hear the young monks-in-training talking in their dining hall. The couple next to me are gone while the man in the other room munches away at the divine food in front of him. Now that the sun was gone, it was easy to notice how extremely cold the hallways were. It was a controlled, mad sprint to get back upstairs to my room, where someone had taken the liberty to turn on the space heater, so the room was toasty warm when I returned. They had also laid out the futon and placed a hot pad underneath the blankets, so by the time I would go to sleep, the futon was also toasty warm. When I returned to the connected world, I had to remind myself to give this place a fantastic review.

Braving the cold hallway to head to the bath was mildly tricky. It was an old public bath shared with the other temple guests. Of note was the hot bath for after showering: it was roughly the size of a standard bathtub in North America. Having done the math, two other guys must be staying at this temple: one from the couple and the other extremely satisfied with the food. Let's be honest and say that there would not be much enjoyment in a squishy hot bath with three naked men packed in. I decided to limit my bath stay to when the next guy arrived. Conveniently, out of good luck or the other guests doing the math, no one entered the public bath for the hour I stayed there before I decided I was outstaying my hot bath welcome.

After another hour or two of reviewing pictures on my camera and reading from the only novel I had brought, it was time to sleep. After all, the mandatory prayer session was bright and early at 6AM to attend. As I turned out the light, the moonbeams pierced into the room onto the futon as the sunbeam had done only hours before. As requested by the sign on the butane heater, I turned it off before resting in the hot-pad-warmed futon. Unfortunately, my tossing and turning in the futon had occasionally lifted up the blanket, causing a sudden rush of cold air to enter the futon every so often and waking me up as though the spirits in the cemetery were trying to play tricks on me.

My cell phone alarm woke me up just 15 minutes before six in the morning, and I felt mildly rested - if it weren't for those vengeful spirits during the night. I headed down the stairs where signs pointed towards the temple hall where the morning prayer would occur. The couple from the room next door was already there, and shortly after, the man in the room next to mine also took a seat next to me. Already, a young monk was reading from a scroll in a solemn chant-like voice in front of an adorned altar and a statue of Buddha. Sitting beside him was an older monk bowing with his eyes closed, occasionally hitting the small gong beside him. They were both facing away from us, but the voice of the young monk was echoing around the room, so it sounded like he was practically next to us.

The initial 10 or so minutes of the prayer probably went like any ignorant person would feel if they had to wake up early to attend a morning prayer session. But then the sun started to come up over the mountain, and sunbeams scattered into the hall. The sound of chirping and the noise of tree branches swaying in the wind crept into the prayer hall. Through it all, the chanting of the young monk only seemed to get more accentuated and rhythmic, almost melodic. But nothing changed - he was vocalizing the same way he had done all this time. He was chanting in Japanese, but perhaps it was yet another transcendental moment that allowed us to break the language barrier.

After an hour, there was a moment of silence, and the monks left the hall. We followed suit and were guided to breakfast in the same rooms as the dinner before. It was yet another vegetarian meal, prepared and cooked in such a way that made me wonder why I had never thought of trying this myself note 1. At least, I believe that the man in the room next to me agreed with this, considering he had exclaimed, "This is so good," three or four times by the time I had finished breakfast note 2. Perhaps I had yet another transcendental moment, or more likely, I ate breakfast very slowly, as the couple next to me had already checked out of the temple.

It was my turn to do so as well. I grabbed my bags, put on my parka, and went to the main entrance hall. I passed the man from the room next to me as he returned from the breakfast hall. In the first conversation since arriving, I asked, "How was the food?" He beamed me two thumbs up.

I arrived at the entrance hall where the same young monk who registered me was waiting with my shoes. I exchanged his key for my boots and thanked him. He responded with a short bow, and I returned to the Koya-san main street. Blue sky, calm winds, radiant warmth - and the silence I was accustomed to.

Three hours later, I had returned to the bustling and crowded Osaka-Namba station, the quiet serenity now seemingly a fable of the journey I was taking through Japan.