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Japan, April 1996

Kyoto, Japan – April 15-16, 1996

Traveling to Kyoto, the old Imperial capital of Japan, gave me a chance to ride on the Shinkansen, Japan’s famous bullet train. The Shinkansen comes in two versions – the Hikari, which is very fast, and the Nozomi, which is faster yet and makes fewer stops. I took the Hikari to Kyoto, and although it was too late in the day to do much sightseeing, I did walk around a little in the Gion district, where I had booked my room at a modest but comfortable local ryokan, the Rikiya.

The next morning I got up and took a short train ride to Nara, spending the entire day there; the following two days I devoted to seeing Kyoto.

At Kyoto Station I had signed up for a morning walking tour conducted by a local guide who styled himself as Johnny Hillwalker, aka Hiruka Hajime. I met him, along with the rest of a party of 5-6 people, on a rainy, chilly spring morning at Kyoto Station. Johnny, a retired JNTO guide, proved to be a highly affable, entertaining and knowledgeable host, and of course his English was flawless. His fee was more than reasonable – I suspect that he did the tours more to keep fit and busy than to supplement his income.

The rain was pouring down as we began our walk; it didn’t dampen our spirits, but it did impede photography somewhat – I had to be careful to avoid flooding my camera, which was not waterproof. So I took fewer pictures than I would have preferred. Later in the day, when the sky began to clear, I made up for lost time.

The walk, if I remember correctly (it’s been a long time) lasted about 3-4 hours; we visited several temples, shrines, gardens and a few local shops such as bakeries and ceramics makers.

From Johnny Hillwalker I got good directions on how to reach the attractions I most wanted to visit, which were mostly far away in the northwest part of Kyoto – the railway station and Gion are in east-central Kyoto. In the meantime I picked up where the morning walk had ended and checked out some more of the sights in Gion.

Gion is the entertainment district of Kyoto, and it is inextricably associated in the popular mind with geishas (or geiko as they are known locally). I had no particular interest in meeting up with any geishas; I had done enough research – and absorbed plenty of sage advice from Dave Winter – to know that quality geisha performances were likely to be (a) very expensive and (b) mostly unavailable to Westerners, except wealthy or well-connected ones, and I was neither. But I did feel a need for at least some cultural exposure, and I had a free evening, so I bought a ticket for a performance at Gion Corner, which, in the words of one website, offers a “budget experience…a contrived one-stop shop for geisha entertainment open nightly from 6 p.m. that panders to tourists with tea ceremonies, puppets, flower arrangement, music and dancing.” As the description suggests, it wasn’t especially memorable, but neither did it bankrupt me at about $28.

The real glory of Kyoto is in its historical sites and artistic marvels. From 794 to 1868, when Emperor Meiji migrated to Tokyo, Kyoto was the seat of the Emperor and the cultural metropolis of Japan. (The stretch from 794 to 1185 is known as the Heian period, because the original name of Kyoto was Heian-kyo.) It still retains much of that aura, not least owing to the fact that it was spared the firebombing that destroyed Tokyo and other cities during World War II. This was thanks to Secretary of War Henry L. Stimson. When army generals proposed Kyoto as a first target for the atomic bomb, Stimson, who had honeymooned in Kyoto and was familiar with the city, forcefully quashed the idea, on the grounds that Kyoto was a repository of priceless cultural treasures and could not be bombed.

There are too many such treasures in Kyoto to see in a couple of days; it would have taken months to see them properly. I was able to visit and take pictures of a few of the sites I had heard most about, and you can see them here, along with a few shots of places I missed but picked up from other sources.

My ultimate destination in Kyoto, the one place I had come to see above all others, was the Zen rock garden known as Ryoanji. Along with the Alhambra in Spain, it was one of the two places in the world I wanted most to visit. I had first encountered Ryoanji in Edwin Reischauer and John Fairbanks’ college textbooks on Asian history, one of which actually had a picture of the garden; I had wanted to see it in person ever since. I find that the esthetic that elevates an assembly of plain, unadorned rocks to the epitome of artistic achievement has a powerful appeal. I lingered there for a couple of magical hours and shot more pictures of the shrine and the garden than of any other attraction I visited in Japan, and I’m giving it a special section as the culmination of my visit to Kyoto.

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