Mariella Gattini

Kyoto

Mount Fuji was my companion on my way to Kyoto. Distant, but imposing, I took every picture I could until I lost sight of it. I had seen the work of Katsushika Hokusai in Tokyo and I was inspired by him and his prints of Mount Fuji and The Great Wave off Kanagawa. In my pictures, the volcano has very little snow, but it looks equally spectacular.

Katsushika Hokusai at work piece

The Great Wave off Kanagawa

We arrived in Kyoto late in the afternoon. We had rented a house where we had to sleep on a floor covered by tatamis. It was a little two-story, two-bedrooms, two-bathrooms house located in a narrow alley within the grounds of a temple. So in order to get in and out of the house to visit the town we chose to cross through the temple buildings. The man who took care of the surroundings had three black cats that never came when I called them kitty cat, gatito, gattino, or petit chat, but they paid attention to me when I called them koneko (kitty cat in Japanese.) And they say cats don’t understand language!

House Entrance

Actual Koneko

There are some restaurants in Japan that only accept reservations. I learned that when we were looking for restaurants online that were open. We found one and it didn’t say we needed reservations. So my husband and I went directly to it since it was very near to where we were staying. When we slid open the door to our right of the small restaurant, we saw an old man at the cash register, a counter all along the small space, one client sitting on a stool, and an old lady behind the counter. We actually startled them. They didn’t speak a word of English, but said “Sorry,” and showed us a sign at the cash register that said Reservations Only. We excused ourselves, slid the door to our left, and left them behind. We still were hungry, so we went to the second restaurant in our list called Choice, a vegan restaurant located a little farther away on foot. The place looked eclectic, modern, and welcoming, with young and smiling servers. We had so much food, and felt well nourished; body and soul. This was on the west side of the Kamogawa river and south of the Nijo bridge. Some other night, we crossed the Nijo bridge over the same river to have dinner at a restaurant called Yakitori, located in the restaurant district along the river north east of the Nijo bridge. Yakitori means chicken on a stick and it’s a very popular street food. In this case it was the actual name of the restaurant, which was small, modern, with simple lines and indirect lighting, and filled with locals and foreigners. I saw who I thought was the writer Elizabeth Gilbert in that restaurant. One thing I learned that night is that you have to call the waiter in Japan.

Choice Restaurant

Choice Resturant's colorful food

The temple grounds of our rented house were located right on the other side of the river from where the Ritz-Carlton Hotel is found. Our stay was less luxurious, I suppose, but way more interesting. Mixing with the locals adds a different flavor, one that helps us understand what is really going on around.

That's me standing on the grounds of the temple of our stay

What I expected from Kyoto I found in the different temples we visited with our guide, or explored on our own. I encountered a sense of serenity and direct connection with nature in their gardens and parks.

Tenryu-ji Temple's grounds

Tenryu-ji Temple's Park

What surprised me the most was that Kyoto is actually crowed wherever you go, with stressed out people going in different directions. Most people wore masks, except the afternoon we arrived. We went for a walk along the street that is the continuation of the Nijo bridge going east. It was a Sunday, all the stores were open, and people were sightseeing, just as we were, along crowed sidewalks. No one was wearing masks, so we could see their faces. In this see-and-be-seen interaction, I became overwhelmed by the amount of people who seemed to multiply as we kept forward. And I can still hear how a girl was resizing a ring. Those hits, metal to metal, still resound in my head, only that my memory is amplifying them and converting them into the tolling of bells. The bells of Kyoto.

I’m not going to lie, sleeping on the floor wasn’t as comfortable as I have anticipated, and the rooms were small, but the bathrooms were modern, just like the kitchenette; there also was a washer machine, and a beautiful little garden with a big, round, deep, ceramic tub. All of the above and the green tea I sipped while talking with my family around a round table—sharing our experiences and planning what to do next—are the most endearing memories I have of that little house.

Walking in and around the streets of Kyoto reaffirmed in me the fact that we all are more similar than we are different, and it also reminded me that everything is better and more enjoyable with my husband’s steady hand in mine.

Although we disagreed at times regarding where to go, and what route to take, I realized that we could actually survive, overcome, and enjoy any place while being together. For better or for worse.

We needed to prepare to go back to Tokyo. My daughter used another carrier to send our most heavy luggage to a big hotel this time. Reservations again became handy for our train ride.

And Mount Fuji was there one more time to accompany us the rest of the trip.

We were leaving Kyoto behind with our bento boxes in hand. We would need many years of living in Kyoto to understand every little detail especially everything related to their language, which I don’t speak, but one thing is sure, the few days we spent exploring the town left in me a sense of serenity and despair. Nature was the most abundant source of tranquility, and my inability to understand their language provided me with a profound sentiment of isolation.

Next stop Tokyo Part II, would the other side of the city be as interesting as Asakusa?