Finding My Way in Kyoto

Ancient Japan resides in Kyoto, Japan's most traditional city and its spiritual heart. For more than ten centuries, it remained the center of Japanese civilization, and monuments to its glory are everywhere. As I wandered the narrow streets of Imperial Kyoto, I suddenly found myself lost in a sea of smiling faces–alone in a world where I could neither ask for directions nor read street signs. Suddenly, as if out of nowhere, a young Japanese man stopped to ask in broken English if he could help me. I nodded yes. His introduced himself as Akihiro Yamamoto.

Akihiro took me to a small shop nearby to purchase some sandwiches and fruit and then the two of us stepped into a temple garden a few doors up the street. There we ate our lunch and exchanged information about each other. I asked him if he could suggest some places to visit that would show me the essence of Kyoto, indeed of Japan. He replied that he could do more than suggest, he show me his beloved city himself.

As we walked along narrow streets, I got the feeling I was in the real Japan, unlike Tokyo that’s a giant international metropolis. The dark wood of its ancient buildings seemed to welcome me with a mystery and coziness that can only be found here. I knew I had come to the right place, for no visit to Japan is complete without time spent in this ancient city, exploring its sights and finding peace and serenity in its temple gardens. In addition to its many temples, my new-found friends and I discovered palaces and royal gardens, as well as imperial villas lining the avenues laid out in the 8th century.

Scores of shrines and temples—about 200 Shinto shrines and over 1,500 Buddhist temples—bear witness to Kyoto's position as Japan's capital and cultural center for over 1,100 years, from 794 to 1868.

Akihiro pointed out that though Kyoto’s venerable roots belay its size, it’s a sprawling metropolis. At the same time it has the warmth and feeling of a small village. Perhaps it's the height of its wooden buildings. A two-story house stands almost as tall as I. Everything is on a small scale, and I suppose that to most Americans, the old city must resemble an oversized Liliput. Japanese customs prevail and politeness and courteousness to the extreme are normal routine.

In contrast to the houses that line the narrow streets, the large temples ramble, sometimes taking up an entire city block. Akihiro took me to the Kinkaku-ji Temple, also known as the Gold Pavilion, one of the grandest,. Fire destroyed the original building, built as a villa for a Shogun over 600 years ago. It was later converted into a temple. What I saw was an exact replica surrounded by one of the loveliest of the royal gardens.

To appreciate the power and might of the Tokugawa Shoguns, Japan's most powerful military dictators, we next visited Nijo Castle, their residence until 1868. Built in 1603 as the first residence of Leyasu, first Shogun of the Tokugawa family, it resembled a fortress more than a home. Despite its moat, turrets, and massive entrance, this was obviously no fortress, but the spacious, glittering residence of a military dictator who could afford to rival the emperor in the size and show off his palace.

Beyond the ornate iron-plated East Gate is a wide court with five connected buildings. All are profusely decorated with rich wood carvings, sculptures, murals, painted sliding doors and gilded ceilings.

Soon, Akihiro and I stood in the simplicity of the Ryoan-ji Temple, contrasting to the lavish beauty of Nijo Castle. The rock and sand garden of this Zen temple is probably one of the most photographed spots in Japan. The famous garden, 15 stones arranged in groups of 5, 2, 3, 2, 3, on a bed of raked sand, is both simple and suggestive.

To get an idea of what the first imperial palace looked like in 794, we next visited the Heian Shrine. Constructed in 1895 to celebrate the 1,100th anniversary of the founding of Kyoto, its builders modeled it after the first imperial palace, complete with gardens burgeoning with cherry and iris blossoms in season.

Kyoto seemed full of national treasures—buildings, towns, even people. The Japanese revere anything that has to do with their history and culture. One of these, the Sanjusangendo Hall, dating from 1266, is best known for its wooden image of the Thousand Handed Goddess, the Buddhist personification of Mercy or Compassion. The Japanese sculptor, Tankei, created it when he was 82 years old. Flanking it were 1,000 other, smaller, standing images of the goddess.

Within Imperial Kyoto, a model of noble simplicity, lies the Imperial Palace where the Japanese emperors held reign for centuries.

The Gosho stands as the centerpiece of a 200-acre park complex surrounded by high walls. Open to the general public for one week in early April and one week in early November each year, it’s a Chinese-inspired ceremonial ensemble, spacious, harmonious, symmetrical and dignified. There’s a scale and serenity to the Gosho which is very unusual in Japan, and especially in Kyoto, where everything is so scaled down. Built in the traditional style in 1855 after fire and renovation, it’s a restful place and is one of Japan's few examples of monumental architecture.

The crowning achievement of Japanese architecture is the Katsura Villa, which I viewed as abstract art on a large scale and one of several distinct functional styles in traditional Japanese building. This building with its garden is perhaps the ultimate expression of that peculiar Japanese mentality in which discipline is so ingrained in art, building, and nature that they become one.

Its builders used only the simplest of natural materials with logic to produce the timeless, distant, abstract beauty of clear water and utter silence. Nothing is out of place. No human passion or daily disorder could survive in this fragile work of art. Katsura is an experience of the mind, a cerebral thought of great subtlety, uniquely Japanese. The garden, organized around a pond, features teahouses individually designed for each of the four seasons and planned so that there are no blind spots. Wherever I stood seemed to be the right place.

A bit tired from an exhausting afternoon of sightseeing, Akihiro suggested that we step into a neighborhood tea house and enjoy a calming cup of jasmine tea. As I rested and gathered my thoughts in the serenity of the teahouse’s garden, I realized I had found not only my way through this beautiful city, but a friend.

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