Kyoto’s population is one tenth that of Tokyo with just over 1.4M residents, and it was Japan’s capital city and home to the Imperial Court from 794 to 1889. As a part of the Meijji Restoration, the capital and imperial palace were moved to Tokyo, which was ultimately a blessing as Kyoto's reduced political importance allowed it to escape much of the destruction and devastation of WWII unlike so much of the rest of Japan. As a result, the city maintains an aura of history and mysticism; there’s wonder around every corner and it’s a transporting experience to walk the streets.
We traveled from Tokyo to Kyoto by Shinkansen, or bullet train, and stayed four nights. If I could do this part of the trip over, I’d stay a few extra days here to slow down and soak in all Kyoto has to offer. From everything we heard the most iconic elements of Kyoto are: temples / shrines, sake breweries and beautiful gardens, but it was the middle of winter so we optimized our time around sake, the most historic and awe-inspiring sites, and of course, great food.
Before I get too deep into our experience here, I feel the need to gush about the Shinkansen. I’ve never enjoyed a travel experience this much. I’m still blown away by its user friendliness and how enjoyable each and every ride was - I flat out looked forward to travel days. First of all, the Bullet Train system is woven into the fabric of the subway system across Japan. It’s possible to walk to most stations from virtually anywhere as they’re centrally located in each city. Second, the cross-country bullet train network maintains the same efficiency of the intra-city subway system: departure times are communicated and upheld to the second – only once in our 21 days of Shinkansen travel did we experience a late train, and it had a devastating one minute delay. So often, public transit as a foreigner is intimidating and overwhelming, but in all of Japan it couldn’t be easier. It’s almost idiot proofed with fine tuned synchronicity between Google Maps and the digital signage in each station, plus, elaborate, color-coded paths on the floor and the walls that indicate exactly where each platform is located, in which direction each train will take off and which stations are upcoming (note to all tech PMs, if you want a lesson in anticipating your user’s needs and concerns and delivering features to ease those, take a trip on the Shinkansen). Lastly, it’s just flat out fun, and there’s never been an accident in its history! As a result, you don’t need to show up early to fight through security lines or congestion, there’s not even annoying safety videos or tutorials on seatbelts and emergency exits. So you can focus your attention on what matters, like getting a couple pre-train beers at the in-station 7-Eleven and then enjoying the trackside views of Mt. Fuji at 200+ MPH.
Kyoto is about 280 miles southwest of Tokyo and is an in-land city, nestled among a set of Japan’s innumerable mountain peaks, and one of its defining characteristics are the underground reservoirs of fresh spring water. This is notable because it makes Kyoto one of the foremost destinations for sake brewers in the country. Despite having consumed quite a large quantity of sake in my lifetime, I knew relatively little about what sake is, how it’s made and how to distinguish good sake from swill. Naturally, given our scholarly tendencies, we sought to become students of the craft so we could remove our veils of ignorance and consume sake as connoisseurs.
The first step in the journey was to tour a sake brewery and join some tastings, which we did at one of the oldest, and largest sake producers in the world - Gekkeikan Brewery in Fushimi ward. It was an eye-opening experience, where we learned how much we didn’t know about sake: most blatantly is that sake is not rice wine, but more similar to rice beer given it’s made via a two step fermentation process using yeast to convert the starch into sugar that then turns to alcohol. Funny enough, at the end of the tour, after drinking several varietals of sake and exploring the brewery we were put through a class room style, oral examination where we had to read kanji (Chinese characters) on different sake bottles, note the flavors we smelled and tasted to the group then determine which type of sake we were drinking. It was intense, but we passed, and now you, our family and friends, can expect Rachael and I to pompously guide you through all future Japanese dining and sake drinking experiences while making snooty comments about whether we’re drinking a dai-ginjo or a junmai based on the bottle’s rice polish percentage and fermentation style.
Now that we’d become sake experts, we sought to put our palettes to the test and explore the culinary world of Kyoto. Multiple people made a point to tell us that because Kyoto is an inland city, it’s not known for its sushi and fish, but we decided to ignore that information because we were craving a great omakase dinner (which eluded us in our first stint in Tokyo because the fish markets were closed in celebration of the New Year). We found a relatively new restaurant called Sushitoku, just outside the Kyoto train station that got high praise from our hotel, but we didn’t know exactly what to expect. That night, we entered the 8-seat restaurant, on the second floor of a modern looking building and found 6 other guests at different stages in their dinner, a single sushi chef, one roaming sous chef and two seats waiting for us. The dinner turned out to be the best sushi dinner I’ve ever had, and frankly one of the top dining experiences of my entire life.
The menu was fixed, so we ordered nothing; we simply told the chef we wanted to drink sake and that we’d like his recommendation on what to pair with each dish. The chef spoke some English, and Rach and I had a handful of learned Japanese phrases, so we were able to learn about the restaurant, what we were eating, where it came from, and any rules about how to eat each dish. We also exchanged bows and pleasantries with the other folks around the bar given the intimacy of the setting. One of the groups was a young Japanese couple, celebrating a birthday, that spoke zero English, but we quickly bonded with them over the miraculous 20+ course dinner we were eating, and the overflowing joy that came after each bite. These people were a huge part of why the experience was so great. They were brimming with kindness and excitement that we were visiting their city and tangentially participating in their birthday celebration. The four of us were smiling ear-to-ear for 3 hours and shouting “kampai” and “oishi” to one another with each glass of sake and each plate. At the end of the meal, we must have bowed to each other 6 times, what I imagine was the Japanese equivalent of a 30 second, drunken bear hug outside a bar. Admittedly, we went full tourist during this meal, and took pictures of every appetizer and piece of fish that came out, but the single most delicious bite was this massive, quadruple decker sea urchin hand roll that I’ve been dreaming about each night since.
To hit the trifecta, we also spent a good amount of time each day visiting Buddhist temples and Shinto shrines across the city. My two hands down favorites were Fushimi Inari and Kiyomizu Dera, and the two couldn’t be more different. First of all, they represent different religions. Fushimi Inari is a Shinto shrine, which is the most practiced religion in Japan and Kiyomizu Dera is a Buddhist temple. There’s a million differences between each site, but the commonalities were quite apparent as well. I found both places to be incredibly peaceful, reverent locations built into the nature surrounding the city in a way that commanded respect for the venue. We visited Kiyomizu Dera at peak operational time, 11am or so, and it was quite crowded. There were floods of tourists from all over the globe, some coming to pay their respects to the temple as Buddhists, others like us were there seeking to catch a glimpse of the beauty and hopefully experience a bit of zen. Despite the crowds, the temple delivered. To get there, you have to walk up a street from the bus stop lined with homes, small stores, coffee shops and telephone poles. The street is quaint and quiet, and in the distance you can see a bright orange, multi-level pagoda looming amid a sea of trees that rises to the horizon. When you enter, there are maps showing how massive the property is. Its paths, walkways and smaller shrines are threaded with the forest and the best part of our experience was getting lost among the trees, feeling the crisp air and hearing all the sounds of animals just out of sight.
At Fushimi Inari however, I wanted a more personal, quiet experience, and I heard the crowds get quite out of hand, so I trekked to the location before the sun rose one morning to get the full experience of being alone at the top of a mountain. (Rach, very obviously, let me do this trek solo...) This Shinto shrine consists of thousands of torii gates that line a staired path to the top of Mt. Inari. I didn’t fully grasp what I was starting at the beginning of the journey, but the magnitude of it all hit me about halfway through the climb as I’m drenched in sweat, despite it being below the freezing point. It took about an hour of pretty rapid bleacher walking pace to get to the top, and interestingly there was no real reward at the end of the climb. No epic view overlooking the city, no grand chasm that takes your breath away. Instead, there’s a small ancestral shrine in honor of the local Kami (Shinto ancestors and gods). A very quiet, spiritual place and there was a single candle burning in the altar, as if one devotee made the hike hours before me to pay their respects. On my walk down, I kept thinking about the dedication to the religion and to the process of building this path. The first torii gates were installed along the path as early as 1600, which would have required people to carry these structures up this path on foot! I thought a lot about what I dedicate my own energy to, and how nothing really compares to the commitment that these people showed to creating something this long lasting. What’s worth that level of dedication? Around this time, on the way out, the people started flooding up the track. And at this point, my thoughts shifted to gratitude that I made the trek so early, because most of what I heard as I made my way down the final steps were complaints and groans about the climb and how many stairs were left. I wonder if they made it all the way, and if they actually enjoyed it.
There’s so much more to think about and say about Kyoto, but I’ll wrap it here. Thanks for making it, let me know what you think!
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