{Shikoku Hachijūhachikasho Meguri}

Here is an example: You have just set up a nice camp in a rest area and are busy preparing to wash clothes when some guy pulls up in a car, gets out, stares at you somewhat stupidly, sits down without ceremony at your table and begins smoking. You acknowledge him with a greeting. He nods, then asks with abruptness, 'Where are you from?' He has annoyed you with his smoking, lack of manners, and interfering with your setting up camp, so you antagonise him a little by telling him nonchalantly you live in Tokyo. Of course you are a foreigner, so he wants to hear America, or Italy, or something, but you don't oblige his annoying curiosity.

He makes a slightly impatient facial expression, throws his cigarette butt on the ground, your camp space, and says, 'What country are you from?' Directly, and annoyingly. Oh, America you answer, with impatience and no eye-contact. Then he lights up again as you ignore him, and starts muttering about 'gaijin'. You then feel bad.

Okay, I should be more patient, maybe he is a nice guy. I am very tired and don't feel like indulging this bumpkin, but he is only curious and wants to make contact with a foreigner. So you open your face a little. Let him in. Smile. He gets excited, then starts asking the usual, boring 'gaijin' questions. Still you indulge him in the spirit of the Henro. Maybe he will leave you alone after his curiosity has been satisfied. But he continues. Then he starts telling anecdotes. This happens to 'gaijin' and is always irritating. The anecdotes are always about other gaijin. The giant American chewing gum, driving a jeep straight up a mountain. The Brazilians that stole the town's rice supply. And so on. You smile weakly, and nod with impatience and say, Ah, is that so? The Japanese equivalent of 'I don't give a fuck'. Then comes the faux-settai. He says, ah, you are very tired, don't you want something to drink? Come on, let me drive you to the vending machine down the road, we'll get a drink at the vending machine. Ok, reluctantly you agree. Arrive at the machines, and then in a grand gesture, he gets out of the car, sweeps his hand towards the machines, and says generously, 'Go ahead! The machines are over there. You can get a drink now.' I weakly nod, buy a yogurt drink and return with him to camp.

Then I vow to ignore him until he leaves. I do just that. I refuse all eye-contact. Stop responding to his questions with more than a grunt, and go about my camp chores as if he weren't there. He rattles on about how he was a host in his younger days and how all the women loved him, blah blah, blah. Finally he buggers off to his car, and then I thank him warmly and graciously.

That is the faux-settai. And though there numbers are small in comparison to the genuine settai, they exist and must not be indulged when possible.

As a Henro, again as Turkington mentions, you have a duty, almost a responsibility to conduct yourself in an upright, honourable way, and to not lose your temper, keep a cool heart, and warmth to all you meet, accept with great graciousness and modesty all gifts offered, big and small, do not flatter too much, do not talk excessively or arrogantly, indeed be as 'Japanese' as you can, and this will win you many friends along the way. Humility is key. Listen. Don't talk. Be patient. Receptive. Generous in mind and spirit. This may be one of the meanings of the Henro for the walkers as well as those who encourage you along the way.

Many of the Shikoku people have great faith in the Daishi and the Henro. It brings meaning to their lives. At some point, whether you are Buddhist or not, you would be an unfeeling sod to not become conscious of and moved by this.