Kyoto was once too the capital of Japan. And boy, that is a city that bears its regal history with pride (and also a hearty dose of temples). Sitting in a lush valley surrounded by forested hills, Kyoto feels like a much more manageable size than Tokyo, and with a smaller concentration of tourist sights it also feels like all the foreigners in Japan are kicking around Kyoto.
Kyoto was also where I finally got my eating situation sorted out. Tokyo was a hungry day or two of a reminder that being vegan in Japan and expecting to be able to just wander around and find food is a grossly poor assumption. Up in Niseko I had my fave places by the end of the season where I knew I could find fantastic vegan friendly fare (with the help of the my Japanese speaking friends), but actually travelling as a vegan in Japan is freakin hard. Fortunately this problem is completely sorted by some simple internet research- once I downloaded an app that listed vegan restaurants complete with directions meal times became a lot more fulfilling. Lucie was dragged hither and thither in search of the next vegan haunt, but oh my did we find some fantastic food- from vegan ramen and a cafe using Bonsoy (!!), to pizza and chocolate cake and soy icecream cookie sandwiches, we ate like queens (vegan queens that is. Quite a change for Frenchie Lucie!) I had such a good pizza in this tiny vegan cafe in southern Kyoto that I composed an epic poem to it entitled Oh, Pizza: You Are So Wonderful that I'm planning on turning into a chart-topping hit. Once Lucie flew off back to Hokkaido I was certainly reminded how poor my Japanese is, but the joy of vegan restaurants is that I can eat everything on the menu, so misunderstandings aren't so much a big deal.
Even though the weather was pleasantly warm compared to our winter climes, the public baths were still frequented frequently- there is nothing like a full body soak and scrub after a long day of temple viewing and vegan feasting. Just around the corner from our hostel was a little neon-lit sign beckoning you into an also little bathhouse, with little old men and ladies tottering in with full bath-ready regalia (a tub with a little stool, soaps, scrubbing devices, towels, robes) and steam pouring out the doors. After five months in Japan I felt like an old-hand at the whole bathhouse scenario, but this particular house put us through our paces. Firstly I tried to enter the male room, which shattered my carefully constructed air of Japan-I-got-this, and then while in the bathhouse itself I managed to fall over in a foamy pool (sudden drop in depth caught me unawares despite the very clear picture on the wall behind me to warn against such folly) and splash foam everywhere, and then after finally lowering ourselves into the super super hot pool (at least 4000 degrees, conservative estimate), we leapt back out again as there were ELECTRIC CURRENTS being passed through the water. Personally, I am not entirely sure what mild electrocution is good for. At least we provided great entertainment for the local ladies!
Speaking of local ladies, gosh did I see some elegant Japanese woman on the streets of Kyoto. I spent most of an afternoon 'kimono spotting'- I plunked myself down on a bridge leading into Gion, the historic geisha district, and held my camera at the ready for capturing kimono sightings. It was wonderful comparing the bubble-gum colours and bright smiles of the young girls sporting selfie-sticks and all the elegance of a baby giraffe with the muted grace of older women who had obviously been living in kimono all their lives. I certainly felt like a plod of a Westerner in my hiking boots and pants! Though that was nothing compared to how truly plod-like I felt when I saw a woman dressed as a geisha. Oh my.
Twas a clear starry night, and I was enjoying a contemplative stroll through the dusky backstreets of Gion. Gion is historically the geisha district, and now sports many 'gentlemen's clubs' where, as a Japan-savvy friend of mine put it, a business man can indulge in a beer poured by a pretty girl at the end of a hard day (and apparently nothing more than that). While the geisha community has severely depleted in size, there are still a few schools operating and training girls as they used to do. While I was wandering around and wondering about life as a geisha, from the shadow of a wooden doorway She appeared. Both myself and a Western guy who was walking just in front of me were transfixed- dropped jaw and all, we both just stopped in our tracks and reverently watched as the geisha floated on out of her door and faded into the dark of another alley. She made my bubbly kimono-sporting girls of the afternoon seem like silly fripperies, nothing more than bright flashes of silk colour to fade and be forgotten in the face of her quiet and ethereal grace... And leaving me to feel like the most ploddiest of plods in her wake. (No, no picture. Way too gobsmacked for that).
On my final morning in Kyoto I took myself up to Fushimi Inari-Taisha, a Shinto shrine famous for the thousands of vermilion torii gates leading up through forest to the summit of Mt Inari, 233m later. My experience over a sunny morning here seemed to sum up my time in Kyoto- while I made it to the shrine base really early, it was already thronging with tourists. Mostly Chinese with huge cameras (that stereotype is still very accurate), moving like huge schools of fish this way and that, I found myself increasingly frustrated with the chaos surrounding me. All the main temples in Kyoto are like this, all the time. I began trundling up through the torii gates anyway, trying in vain to snap a picture without anyone else in it, and also trying to withdraw from the hustle and bustle and find some peace. Suddenly there was a break in the torii passage, and I found a tiny dirt path snaking away up into the forest. Following this path I was immediately ensconced in the quiet of dense forest, and I felt the tension melt out of my shoulders and my mind begin to lighten. Dotted along this path were old, old statues, covered in moss but dappled in sunshine. I spent an hour or so meandering up to the summit along this route, and I saw no one else. This was Kyoto- step just a few streets to the side or take the small dirt path, and you'll find yourself alone with all the history and peace in the world.
Kyoto was also where I finally got my eating situation sorted out. Tokyo was a hungry day or two of a reminder that being vegan in Japan and expecting to be able to just wander around and find food is a grossly poor assumption. Up in Niseko I had my fave places by the end of the season where I knew I could find fantastic vegan friendly fare (with the help of the my Japanese speaking friends), but actually travelling as a vegan in Japan is freakin hard. Fortunately this problem is completely sorted by some simple internet research- once I downloaded an app that listed vegan restaurants complete with directions meal times became a lot more fulfilling. Lucie was dragged hither and thither in search of the next vegan haunt, but oh my did we find some fantastic food- from vegan ramen and a cafe using Bonsoy (!!), to pizza and chocolate cake and soy icecream cookie sandwiches, we ate like queens (vegan queens that is. Quite a change for Frenchie Lucie!) I had such a good pizza in this tiny vegan cafe in southern Kyoto that I composed an epic poem to it entitled Oh, Pizza: You Are So Wonderful that I'm planning on turning into a chart-topping hit. Once Lucie flew off back to Hokkaido I was certainly reminded how poor my Japanese is, but the joy of vegan restaurants is that I can eat everything on the menu, so misunderstandings aren't so much a big deal.
Even though the weather was pleasantly warm compared to our winter climes, the public baths were still frequented frequently- there is nothing like a full body soak and scrub after a long day of temple viewing and vegan feasting. Just around the corner from our hostel was a little neon-lit sign beckoning you into an also little bathhouse, with little old men and ladies tottering in with full bath-ready regalia (a tub with a little stool, soaps, scrubbing devices, towels, robes) and steam pouring out the doors. After five months in Japan I felt like an old-hand at the whole bathhouse scenario, but this particular house put us through our paces. Firstly I tried to enter the male room, which shattered my carefully constructed air of Japan-I-got-this, and then while in the bathhouse itself I managed to fall over in a foamy pool (sudden drop in depth caught me unawares despite the very clear picture on the wall behind me to warn against such folly) and splash foam everywhere, and then after finally lowering ourselves into the super super hot pool (at least 4000 degrees, conservative estimate), we leapt back out again as there were ELECTRIC CURRENTS being passed through the water. Personally, I am not entirely sure what mild electrocution is good for. At least we provided great entertainment for the local ladies!
Speaking of local ladies, gosh did I see some elegant Japanese woman on the streets of Kyoto. I spent most of an afternoon 'kimono spotting'- I plunked myself down on a bridge leading into Gion, the historic geisha district, and held my camera at the ready for capturing kimono sightings. It was wonderful comparing the bubble-gum colours and bright smiles of the young girls sporting selfie-sticks and all the elegance of a baby giraffe with the muted grace of older women who had obviously been living in kimono all their lives. I certainly felt like a plod of a Westerner in my hiking boots and pants! Though that was nothing compared to how truly plod-like I felt when I saw a woman dressed as a geisha. Oh my.
Twas a clear starry night, and I was enjoying a contemplative stroll through the dusky backstreets of Gion. Gion is historically the geisha district, and now sports many 'gentlemen's clubs' where, as a Japan-savvy friend of mine put it, a business man can indulge in a beer poured by a pretty girl at the end of a hard day (and apparently nothing more than that). While the geisha community has severely depleted in size, there are still a few schools operating and training girls as they used to do. While I was wandering around and wondering about life as a geisha, from the shadow of a wooden doorway She appeared. Both myself and a Western guy who was walking just in front of me were transfixed- dropped jaw and all, we both just stopped in our tracks and reverently watched as the geisha floated on out of her door and faded into the dark of another alley. She made my bubbly kimono-sporting girls of the afternoon seem like silly fripperies, nothing more than bright flashes of silk colour to fade and be forgotten in the face of her quiet and ethereal grace... And leaving me to feel like the most ploddiest of plods in her wake. (No, no picture. Way too gobsmacked for that).
On my final morning in Kyoto I took myself up to Fushimi Inari-Taisha, a Shinto shrine famous for the thousands of vermilion torii gates leading up through forest to the summit of Mt Inari, 233m later. My experience over a sunny morning here seemed to sum up my time in Kyoto- while I made it to the shrine base really early, it was already thronging with tourists. Mostly Chinese with huge cameras (that stereotype is still very accurate), moving like huge schools of fish this way and that, I found myself increasingly frustrated with the chaos surrounding me. All the main temples in Kyoto are like this, all the time. I began trundling up through the torii gates anyway, trying in vain to snap a picture without anyone else in it, and also trying to withdraw from the hustle and bustle and find some peace. Suddenly there was a break in the torii passage, and I found a tiny dirt path snaking away up into the forest. Following this path I was immediately ensconced in the quiet of dense forest, and I felt the tension melt out of my shoulders and my mind begin to lighten. Dotted along this path were old, old statues, covered in moss but dappled in sunshine. I spent an hour or so meandering up to the summit along this route, and I saw no one else. This was Kyoto- step just a few streets to the side or take the small dirt path, and you'll find yourself alone with all the history and peace in the world.
