People say it is hard to get under the skin of Japan as a foreigner, and this is even more the case in Kyoto, a proud city which highly values tradition and ancestry. Even though we were there for six months, and I can speak the language, it was not until the fifth month that something happened which made me feel like I had managed to peep behind the curtains.
Behind the door of a quaint traditional Kyoto wooden house lies Sukeroku, a guest house and noodle café where you can slurp fat tasty udon whilst sat on tatami mats looking out over a tiny central garden.
Arashiyama was one of my favourite places in Kyoto. It’s name means ‘Storm Mountain’ and almost every time I went there it poured with rain, but this only added to the atmosphere as a thick mist settled over the hills.
Close your eyes and imagine yourself in a long dark wooden hall, standing in front of an army of more than 1000 many-armed kannon statues.
They are about the same height as you and are staring directly at you.
They stand proud, several rows deep.
How do you feel?
Tucked away down a side street near the Eastern Mountains of Kyoto is this lovely garden, in the grounds of Murin-an Villa. Simple, peaceful, and more than often yours all to yourself…
Housed in an old bath house in the north of the Nishijin textile district, Cafe Sarasa oozes character. The old wash taps remain on the walls, which still bear glossy mosaics from a time when they would be splashed daily.
The Imperial Palace gardeners have brilliantly designed the garden so there is always something in bloom. These late summer flowers made me smile as I took a final stroll through the grounds…
Any bold move, big change or great adventure requires a sacrifice of some kind. This is true in business, life and travel. It’s simple economics – every choice you make has an opportunity cost. Every dollar you spend on a plane ticket is a dollar you can’t spend somewhere else. And the bigger the challenge, the greater the risk… but of course the bigger the reward can be.
Today I found myself sat pondering what we have missed by taking a leap, packing up and moving to Japan for six months.
When I look back on my time in Kyoto, one of my fond memories will be of time spent wandering around the cities many tiny shops. There is something very special about the way in which Japanese people lay out their spaces, present products, and create an experience for guests (which is what you feel like, rather than a customer).
I am talking about shops like this one – Pao is a clothing and ‘zakka’ accessories/stationery/lovely things store run by the vivacious Junko.
I visited her on the day of a blue moon, and after we had chatted a while about papermaking and all sorts, she reminded me to look up to the night sky for luck and happiness that evening…
