A temple visit in Kyoto & a concert in Kobe.

I spend a leisurely morning packing and washing up. I’m in no particular rush; I’m hoping to miss the morning subway rush. I’m mostly successful.

I take the metro to the Yodobashi station in order to catch the Keihan main line to Kyoto. I’m a little confused by the words on the tickets but an agent sorts me out.

I meet a German couple just as they’re bout to alight at Tamabashi. I’m curious what they’re there to see. For all I know they’re staying there.

She’s smiled at me whenever she catches my eye and I finally ask where they’re from. Berlin. I tell her I almost moved there after visiting one particularly beautiful Spring until friends told me to visit in winter before making any decisions. Yes, she says, it can be brutal in the winter. But it’s a very creative space, perfect for a photographer. She gestures at my camera. I agree; it’s one of the things that drew me to the city.

As the couple gets up to disembark I compliment her on the pattern of her jacket, eliciting more smiles.

At Gion-Shijo I alight. Coming out of the station I find myself in front of Minamiza theater. I recognize it from my first visit to Kyoto. Then, there was a kabuki festival going on; all of the main actors were there to perform. I had bought a ticket to that night’s performance, unaware of the significance of the performance. A television crew stopped me to interview me, asking me about my interest in theater and Japan, a producer asking me questions in English when the on-air personality struggled. I always wondered if my segment aired.

I follow the road to Hanamikoji Street, taking a right to walk through Gion and past the Kenninji Temple. The hotel is on the edge of the neighborhood, close to the road that leads up to the Kiyomizu-dera temple on the mountain. Along the way I see people dressed in traditional Japanese clothes, similarly to how people don Hanbok in Korea. I love it.

I cut through a park on stone paths lined with temples and shrines. They’re everywhere, hiding behind bushes and trees. Kyoto is known as the city of ten thousand shrines; it’s easy to see why.

Ayumi checks me in. The room is already prepared. It’s a small studio, with a bed, a seating area, a small kitchen and, happiest of all, a washing machine. Somehow, I hadn’t realized all the amenities when I booked it and I can’t be more pleased.

I eat the rice balls made from last night’s leftover crab rice while deciding what to do. My friend Yukari tells me she’ll pick me up at 1530; we’re driving to Kobe to see her nephew’s band play a small club there. I ask her if she has a link so I can hear what kind of music they play. She tells me they’re a teenager band, but must be big in the future!

With the time available to me I decide to climb the hill next to the hotel to visit Kiyomizu-dera, a Buddhist temple and complex that houses several shrines. I remember visiting on my first trip to Kyoto, having walked the Philosopher’s Path to get there, and admiring the fall leaves left hanging on the trees from its elevated stages jutting over the valley.

I’m surprised how well I remember the lanes leading up to the temple, how little seems to have changed. They’re lined with shops selling all sorts of treats and trinkets and I keep my eye out for soft serve green tea ice cream and little cookies shaped like roof tiles dipped in green tea. I find the former, offered with a black sesame swirl and immediately stop for one. It’s as good as I remember and makes me think of another treat I had when last I visited: a red bean ball rolled in green tea cake crumbs. I remember vaguely where I found it, on a covered market street selling all sorts of fresh produce, lined with cafes and restaurants. I file it away in the back of mind, determined to find it on a map.

Reaching the temple I climb the steps and pass through the Nio-mon Gate. It’s only the beginning; there are many other buildings and stairs to navigate and I pass the Nishimon, Kagekiyo Tsumegata Kannon, and Sanjunoto Pagoda on my way to the Kyōdō Hall.

Worshipers purify themselves at a fountain before the main temples and I follow suit, pausing to look out over the valley to the hills beyond, the trees in their winter state, a far cry from how beautifully crowned they are in my memories of my last late-fall visit. It’s still a beautiful location, and I am incredibly happy to be here, back in Kyoto, on a bright winter’s day.

I continue to wind my way around the complex, heading towards the mountain and around the paths leading away from the main building towards the Koyasu-no-to Pagoda and the Taisan-ji Temple. Crowds collect by the stone barriers to take photos of the main temple set against a backdrop of the city and the distant mountains. People dressed in traditional garb take photos of each other and selfies, pausing to check their phones to make sure they have the shot they want before moving on.

I continue walking to the Koyasu-no-to Pagoda, where it’s less populated. Most seem to give this part of the complex short shrift, content with their hero shots and the views from the terraces, but I’m happy to be outside and to walk and am determined to cover all the paths in and around the temple.

From the pagoda I follow a path back down to the base of the temple. Spring water flows over a stone temple set into the mountains, channeled through drains that cut along three support beams. People reach out using cups attached long wooden handles to collect the water to drink. I remember doing so in the past, but there’s a line of people waiting to do the same and I decide not to take the time.

Coming out of the temple I once again join the throngs of people who fill the streets around it. It’s crowded but not as packed as I remembered it being my first time here, but it’s a different season and the views aren’t quite as spectacular without nature’s fireworks on display.

Rounding one corner all pedestrian traffic seems to stop as people position themselves to take photos of the Yasaka Pagoda t the end of Sannenzaka street. It’s impossible to get a clear shot, much as people angle themselves to try, taking selfies and asking friends to take photos of them. I’m trying to remember my first visit, some 24 years back, trying to remember the number of cameras I saw before cell phone cameras were ubiquitous, and before the term ‘selfie’ entered the general lexicon.

Turning a corner I catch sight of a shrine adorned with colorful balls. I’ve reached Yasaka Kōshin-dō temple. The cloth balls are called kukurizaru and are talismans representing monkeys with their hands and feet tied, symbolizing the restraint of one's desires and the prevention of undesirable behavior. People write their wishes on them and hang them in hopes that they’ll be granted and their self-control will improve.

I walk back to the hotel and relax for a bit before meeting with Yukari. At 1530 she texts me to tell me she’s parked around the corner (the narrow streets where the hotel is isn’t conducive to waiting) and her sister Misai is coming to fetch me. It’s been ages since we’ve seen each other, the last time in New York. Yukari also reminds me that I hosted her daughter once in my spare room, something I had almost completely forgotten. It’s great to see them again.

The sun sets as we drive south and soon it’s night.

We find a parking spot in a lot near the venue and I’m shocked. The lots are small and sprinkled about and while it feels like we’re in a somewhat desolate part of town I’m still amazed that the few lots we see are enough to support the number of people who drive and want to park in the area.

We stop by a convenience store on the way to the venue so that Misai can buy some snacks for her son, which he happily takes back with him after we meet him just inside the club.

It’s a small space, a bar by the entrance and the stage on the other end. A small seating area is reserved for merch on the left and shelves are stacked on the left full of bins.

It’s also a small crowd, mostly friends of the artists, from what I can gather. People smoke by the bar, which surprises me; it’s been some time since I’ve been at a venue where people are smoking.

The show starts with a single musician playing guitar. It’s a short set, the singing seemingly deliberately out of tune. It’s a punk aesthetic, one that runs through the next few bands before the one we’re here to see (they’re the headliners). The next band has a great closer; the singer also sings off key.

The final band is a trio; Misai’s son is the drummer. They’re the best of the night, and the tightest. And I don’t say that just because I know the parents and aunt. They perform a great set and I’m happy to have been invited along. The singer also sings off-key.

Afterwards we head to a ramen restaurant. Misai’s son will find his own way back. The one Yukari wants to take us to is in the middle of nowhere and looks to be housed in an old warehouse. Unfortunately, it’s closed. We drive to another one that Misai finds on her phone near a main street.

Over dinner I ask about the hostel they used to run. Having been open for 19 years it was the oldest hostel in Kyoto until they closed it during Covid. I ask them what their favorite guests were. Ozzies, they say. They were super friendly and warm and chill. They also found young Japanese men very respectful. They say that English women would walk around in bath towels dripping wet everywhere, which was strange.

After they drop me off at the hotel I decide to walk a bit to see Kyoto at night and to increase my step count. I head over to the Gion area. It’s quiet; most of the establishments seem to be closed. Signs indicate private roads I can’t access. I set up to make a photo of a shop sign and catch a maiko walking alone as a cab passes by. It’s an amazing reintroduction to the city. 🇯🇵