Nothing that can be can come between me and the full prospect of my hopes.

Williiam Shakespeare, “Twelfth Night”

Crazy how time flies.

8 April 2023

• 10:40-11:00 Shijo Keihan-mae to Nijo-jo-mae bus
• Nijo castle (1.5h)
• Kyoto imperial palace (30m)
• 15:55-16:10 Shijo Kawaramachi to Shin Aoibashi bus
• Shimogame Shrine (~20m)
• Kamo river
• Kyoto Pokémon Centre (1h?)
• Karaoke bar at night

Nijo Castle

Today started off with a visit to Nijo castle, yet another new addition to my list, recommended by people I’d met. A preserved interior with wooden floors instead of shoes? I had to see tread on it it for myself.

Built in 1603 for the defense of the imperial palace and to serve as the official residence for visiting shoguns, it was adorned like a palace, with gold-leaf walls and doors and lavish ornaments. Each room had unique features, such as floor height, ceiling form, and design.

Being from the Edo period, the vibe was very feudal, with samurai puppets. Dark wood, black tiles, and gold ornaments on the exteriors; inside, no photography allowed.

Ninomaru-goten palace was the only surviving example of a fortified palace complex in Japan. It began with gold-leaf paintings depicting tigers – a motif intended to intimidate visitors and guard the masters.

Since there were no tigers in Japan at the time, the artist had relied on Chinese art. Leopards appeared as well, due to the Chinese belief that one of every three cubs born to a tiger would be a leopard. The two animals were originally considered the same species.

I learned that the squeaky wooden floors gave Japanese castles the nickname “Nightingale Corridors”, because they sounded like songbirds.

The main hall of the palace held the distinction of being the birth- and death-place of the Edo period and Tokugawa Shogunate. This was the stage where the appointment of the first shogun had been announced, and where the last Shogun had relinquished his political powers.

Paintings of pines, to intimidate; golden peacocks and pheasants, to boast of wealth. Coved ceilings with colorful geometric patterns – a formal and rare design that evoked tension and opulence.

Outside was a post-WW2 example of a modern Japanese garden. Most of the Sakura was wilting, although here and there were fully bloomed ones. It was a beautiful stroll. Breezy, with lots of petals flying around.

The moment I stepped out of the castle grounds, the entire sky became covered in rainclouds.

I hadn’t borrowed an umbrella from hotel. So I walked to my next destination, the imperial palace, for thirty minutes under the rain. I stopped at 7/11 for breakfast lunch a quick bite, and by the time I arrived, the clouds had dispersed.

Kyoto Imperial Palace

It was my first time going through a security check at the entrance to a place in Japan. The palace included waiting rooms for visitors, carriage porches, a hall for state ceremonies, and living quarters, all out of bounds for the common folk.

So no going inside, while outside the grounds were simply the widest gravel paths on Earth. What was there to do here, beside listen to pebbles clatter? The garden was small and unimpressive. It was a complete letdown.

I left after half an hour, sour at such a famous yet disappointing attraction. At least it was free.

Then I decided to walk all the way to the city centre for another thirty minutes.

It struck me how, once you crossed long distances between attractions in Kyoto, you found yourself in residential areas with minimal tourists. Indie bookstores, shops selling paintings and stationery, porcelain and fans. Cafés. In such locations, I was spoken to in Japanese.

I reached a second-hand clothing shop the Polish tourist had told me about. She’d bought a used kimono for crazy cheap in Kyoto, in some shop whose name she’d forgotten, and I was curious to find one for myself. Last night, I’d passed this shop with the Taiwanese expat, but it was closed.

Now, I scoured the shelves for something Japanese and traditional. The kimonos were shockingly expensive. Plus, I didn’t really have an excuse to wear one more than once or twice.

Instead, I found a lime-green Jinbei, a type of Japanese casual summer wear. Cheap, unique, and Japanese-y! Perfect.

Shimogamo Shrine and Kamo River

From there, I took the bus to Shimogamo shrine, which the Taiwanese expat had suggested visiting together. It was very close to the imperial palace, so my lack of planning for today made my itinerary a bit all over the place.

The shrine was inside a windy forest. More nondescript than interesting, but the first shrine where I’d seen instructions in English on how to bow. A bit strange, considering this was not a touristy attraction.

We strolled along Kamogawa river, where you could cross the loud stream of water on rocks. Then we took the bus to heaven Kyoto’s Pokémon Centre. That was so much fun… and tantalizingly sad. I hadn’t been able to choose just one plushie, and left this struggle for Tokyo’s Pokémon Centre, the largest one in Japan.

Karaoke Bar

I returned to my hotel exhausted after a day of standing, walking, and minimal food. Following a konbini dinner, I forced myself to go out at 22:00. This was Saturday, and I still hadn’t checked out Kyoto’s bar scene, even though, just like in Osaka, they were all a mere 5-minute walk from my hotel.

At first the first bar, I accidentally tried going into the one next to it. A local guy in a suit stopped me and said: “Japanese only.”

Then I found the place I’d been looking for. It was tiny, cramped, and quite lame. A Japanese guy looked at me weird, as in, “What is this white guy doing here?” Everyone was middle-aged.

I left as soon as I’d entered. The same process repeated itself at the second place.

The third one was huge, doubling as a karaoke bar with a dance floor. I was pretty much the only one by themselves.

It was impossible to spark up a long conversation like that. I got sake (not remotely as good as the one in Nara or in my Ochiai hosts’) and realised this was way too much for one person.

At some point, I noticed someone had ordered “All I Ask” by Adele for karaoke, a favourite of mine. I asked if I could join them. But again the experience (or rather I) sucked, and ended up less fun than I’d hoped karaoke would be. Perhaps because both times trying it (coincidentally right before my monthly anniversaries in Japan) had been with strangers, and in loud bars where you couldn’t really be heard.

To make matters worse, I was singing with a girl who sounded like a professional singer, with a powerful and beautiful voice.

It would be nice if my third time singing karaoke was with someone I knew, in one of those karaoke parlours Japan was known for. Perhaps in Tokyo.

I returned to my hotel tipsy from too much sake and disappointed by Kyoto’s nightlife scene. I’d taken Osaka’s for granted. The people were younger and cooler, and I’d met quite a few who I’d later hung out with. Some hadn’t wished for it to go on. With others, I’d had an instant connection, one that saddened me more than it enthralled, because it was so short-lived. I was still talking to them, but being in different countries made it impossible to stay in touch.

Osaka might not have been as culturally rich as Kyoto, but it was a vastly superior city for going out at night.

Stray observations:

• Many Japanese people don’t use the “live” feature on iPhone when taking a photo. Instead, they take one every 0.0001 second. Since they can’t turn off the shutter sound, you hear every snapshot.
• The customary way to eat bread for breakfast in Japan is two thick slices of white bread with smidges of butter here and there, so that most of the bread remains spread-free.
• All the loop buses have a fixed price of 230y. The bus stops have real time ETAs – the first time I’ve seen those in Japan.
• In both Himeji and Kyoto, I’ve noticed (or rather heard) small cars with signs of candidates for an election. One of the passengers was screaming a bunch of lightning-fast sentences using a megaphone: a shocking an extremely uncharacteristically nuisance, for Japan. I’ve been seeing plenty of posters since Shimanami Kaido – even in Iya Valley – and learned that tomorrow would be election day.

Today’s highlights: Ninomaru-goten palace inside Nijo Castle; buying a second-hand jinbei; hopping on rocks on Kamogawa river; Pokemon Center; and hanging out with the Taiwanese expat.

9 April 2023

• 9:50-10:00 Kawaramachi Matsubara to Kyoto station bus, 10:15-10:35 Kyoto station to Uni station train
• Byodo-in Temple (1h 15m)
• Uji Shrine (10m)
• Brewing our own matcha tea at Takumi no Yakata
• Tale of Genji Musem (~1h)
• Dinner: Kyoto black ramen at a restaurant whose name I need to check

Matcha Heaven in Uji

Sunday in Kyoto. I decided to escape the bustling weekend by doing a day trip to Uji. The Ukrainian tourist was planning to do the same.

How fortunate that we could spend another day together. We met at Kyoto station; the train was packed, which slightly unnerved me. But then everyone got off at Fushimi Inari.

At Uji, I urged her to go first to the tourist information center. They drew us an itinerary on the map and gave us some tips.

Uji was a fantastic small town, with very few people, compared to Kyoto. Quiet, small streets; indie shops. No imposing structures or konbinis. Sunny and welcoming.

This was basically Japan’s tea capital, so anything matcha was to be found here. We got a matcha melon pan and matcha muffin at a bakery, and then ate matcha soba at a restaurant (I got cold, which was better than the hot she ordered).

At one of the souvenir shops, the staff called the guys “お兄さん” and the girls “お姉さん”, which I thought was charming. Something I would never hear in a city in Japan.

The sound accompanying the pedestrian light nearly started me. It was like out of an 8-bit horror video game. Eerie and eccentric, particularly in such a quaint town.

I devoured half of our pastries in front of the blue and sparkling river. Then I changed into my lime-green outfit from yesterday. She almost died of embarrassment.

Still, a lot of people wearing green, just like me. I felt déjà vu. This was just like Yoshino-yama and the color pink.

Byodo-in Temple

First attraction for today: Byodo-in Temple. So famous, that its Phoenix Hall graced the 10-yen coin.

There was a short queue, since entrance cost money. Still, the grounds were pastoral and appealing, not at all tarnished by the crowd.

Inside the temple, Hoshokan museum was an architecturally cool structure storing incredible Buddhist treasures. The original Phoenixes that had stood atop the roof of the hall fascinated me beyond all expectation. I found them inspiring and unique. The same went for a room full of Worshipping Bodhisaatvas on clouds.

I fell in love with the Phoenixes so much, that I got a pin set and stickers of them.

From there, we continued to the most famous spot in Uji for a (shockingly cheap) tea ceremony.

It was fully booked.

NO! I couldn’t visit the tea capital of Japan and not participate in one. This was the best place for me to do so in Japan. I couldn’t leave Kansai like that.

Today was Sunday, so it made sense. The next available slot was on Wednesday morning. I booked it without hesitation, resolving to return here on my last day in Kyoto. The train ride was only 20m from Kyoto station, and I’d been crossing things off my list in a pace that freed up a whole day for me.

Following this slight mishap, we ate lunch on a bench in front of the river’s crashing water. I noticed my wounded knee had been turning a slight shade of green. Perfect for today.

Uji Shrine and Tale of Genji Museum

We crossed the bridge to Uji Shrine. Its god, an ancient prince, had gotten lost one day, and rabbits had showed him the right way. Thus, this shrine was dedicated to them.

This could only mean one thing: a cute, rabbit-shaped stamp.

Next, we walked to Takumi no Yakata, an Uji Cha Dojo, where an instructor taught us how to brew matcha tea. Using a bamboo whisk, we mixed matcha and hot water until it was foamy. Needless to say, the taste was extremely bitter.

I chose chocolate covered in matcha as a sweet, to balance it off.

A little after 16:00, we arrived at the Tale of Genji museum, per the tourist information centre’s recommendation. Considered the first novel in history, Uji was the setting for its last ten chapters.

The great thing about Uji was that everything was a few minutes’ walk from each other. My favourite kind of “city”: a small centre, a river gushing through it, and no gray buildings in plain sight.

We had less than an hour to explore the museum. There was an original short anime film that we skipped as a result.

Instead, we did yoga poses in front of Xbox Kinect screens, to watch explanations about the novel. There were stamping stations for every single one of the novel’s 54 chapters, and smelling stations with scents from the story. Traditional music and some chanting in the background. The museum had done a great job in bringing the novel to life using almost every sense.

I had to read the novel now. A huge gap in my knowledge.

We finished just as the museum closed, at 17:00, and walked the short distance to the station area. They were all beginning to close. After some last-minute souvenir shopping, we took the rapid service train back to Kyoto (faster than the local one from this morning).

A Tear-Streaked Celebration in Kyoto

The Ukrainian girl asked me if I happened to need a carry-on luggage. She wanted to buy a bigger one, to accommodate all her souvenirs.

“Actually, I’ve been carrying some stuff by hand for the last few weeks,” I said, “because there was no longer room for them in my suitcase.”

So I went luggage shopping with her. Donki, like that day in Sapporo when I looked for a suitcase myself, was the best choice.

Afterwards, we looked for a place to eat dinner around Kawaramachi. I mentioned a tiny, tiny ramen bar in front of my hotel, which I’d been passing every single day. It had always had a line.

We went there and after a surprinsigly short, 10-minute wait, ordered a Kyoto black ramen – a local variant, with a rich and dominant sauce.

But I didn’t want the night to end. She would be leaving Kyoto tomorrow. So we just kept talking and talking, on topics ranging from touristy stuff and daily life, to private battles.

It was the deepest conversation I’d ever had, and one of the most unforgettable nights of my life. We watched the election results on the news. A trans candidate was celebrating her election.

Then we wandered through the streets of Kyoto in the dead of night, baring our souls, and confessing our deepest problems, or in her words, “hurdles”. I was yawning frequently, exhausted from a long day and inadequate sleep, but also engrossed in our conversation.

It got very dark at some point. Literally and metaphorically; tears were involved. I knew I’d never forget this moment, sitting on a fence, crying in an equally dark street in front of her hotel.

“Do you know how rare this is?” I asked. “To meet someone like you?”

She was the complete opposite of every computer science major I’d known in Israel. Very aware of life, people, and herself.

“But that’s the thing,” I said. “Awareness makes you sad.”

She took a moment to reply.

“You can’t be truly happy if you’re not aware,” she said. “Awareness gives you depth and truth. It’s your choice what to do with them.”

I typed this response on my phone as soon as it left her mouth.

At some points in our two days together, I felt that I’d been coming off too strongly. That I was letting her in on things people closest to me had never helped me deal with. My posts on this blog had been raw and emotional, and I’d wondered if sometimes they sounded overblown and insincere; they’d been chronicling some extreme ups and downs. But I’d never lied or fabricated, never embellished. On the contrary, I’d filtered out some thoughts and occurrences, reserved for my journal instead.

Writing too much. Thinking too much. Enjoying too much, or hurting too much. Feeling too much. Sharing too much of myself, and delving too deep into lands I shouldn’t. But, as it had been hitting me time and time again, being too much was preferable, in my opinion, to being nothing at all.

I’d rather come off too strongly than be boring. I’d rather live for fire and rain – watch Buddhist monks swirl flaming torches at night, and stand in a Japanese garden with damp sneakers under pouring rain. I’d rather say what I wanted than hold meaningless conversations, than make small talk, than struggle with people who’d never told me what they thought.

Going so low before this trip, and hitting rock bottom, had only led me to fulfill a dream for the first time in my life – to go higher than ever before, and feel joy. If I could reach that only by being too much, so be it: if I alienated people on my way there, so be it.

Talking to the Ukrainian girl, I realised one could never get to know another in sunny weather. It was those cold, dark, overcast days when people’s personalities shone through. Before the rainy season, it was all courtesy.

Neither of us, I thought, wanted to say farewell. Yet it was almost 2:00. I felt like a zombie by this point – yawning, bloodshot eyes, sore muscles, glistening cheeks. Physically and emotionally drained. Moreover, she was planning to visit Fushimi Inari shrine very early in the morning.

“Someday, we’ll meet again,” I said. “I don’t know where, in which country – I don’t know when –”

“I don’t know, either,” she said. “This is the horror and beauty of life.”

I immediately wrote this sentence down as well.

As we hugged probably for the final time, she added one last thing. “I think you’ll be happy in the end.”

I went to bed at 3:00 with fresh tears in my eyes. What a way to celebrate the best two months of my life.

Like my one-month anniversary, I chose a song by Carly Rae Jepsen to mark this occasion.

Today’s highlights: escaping the Kyoto crowds to the perfect small town; matcha pastries and noodles; Hoshokan museum inside Byodo-in temple; lunch by Uji River; brewing matcha tea; doing yoga poses inside a museum; Kyoto black ramen; and talking with the Ukrainian girl well into the night.