Kyoto: a city of soulful charm and timeless elegance (3d.)

Kyoto. Even now, the name evokes something deep inside me - a mixture of nostalgia and wonder. Of all the places I have visited in Japan, Kyoto is like the heart of the country, where antiquity and modernity blend seamlessly together. We were there for three days, but it actually felt like a moment and a whole story at the same time.

We arrived late in the evening and the first thing that struck me was the duality of the city. On the one hand, you have the vibrant, modern side, then you turn the corner and suddenly you find yourself in Nishiki market, with the bustle of vendors and the aromas of sizzling street food, or in Gion, with its wooden machiya houses that look like they belong to a completely different epoch. Kyoto not only preserves its history, it lives it.

One of my favourite walks was between Nishiki Market and Gion. It's not far, maybe 15 or 20 minutes, but every step was like a new layer of the city. Nishiki Market was an overload of excitement in the best sense - fresh seafood, pickles, sweets and matcha treats everywhere. I couldn't resist trying a little bit of everything. Then, when you leave the market and head towards Gion, the energy changes, but you have to go outside the tourist rush. The streets calm down and soon you're walking along the tranquil Shirakava Canal, surrounded by weeping willows, gently sweeping the water.

Gion is magical, especially early in the morning or late in the evening when the crowds thin out. The first time I saw a geisha was in the late afternoon, when we first walked slowly along Gion Street. The street was still buzzing with tourists, cars were moving very slowly down the street due to the distraction of the tourists, and suddenly, for a very brief moment, a geisha (or geiko, as it is called in Kyoto) caught my eye. The geiko/geisha was sitting quietly on the back seat of a car moving slowly down the street. I don't even know how I saw her, but our eyes met, and in that brief encounter I felt a great respect for her. There was something unearthly in her gaze - calm, powerful and yet so elegant. It was a moment I will never forget. The second time I saw the geisha was on Hanami-koji Street, when I was wandering the narrow streets, immersed in the quiet elegance of Gion. She moved like a painting come to life, her kimono swaying gracefully with each step, the intricate patterns catching the soft daylight and seeming almost alive. Both times I felt as if I were witnessing something timeless. The narrow streets, the teahouses, the quiet elegance - Kyoto seemed to invite me into its soul.

One evening we spent at Gion Corner, where we watched a performance showcasing traditional Japanese arts. It was like a cultural melting pot: a tea ceremony, ikebana (the Japanese art of flower arranging), bunraku puppetry, a kiogen comedy and real maiko dancing. Each part was special, but the dances were the most memorable for me - the maiko moved so gracefully that it was as if the air itself was carrying them.

Kyoto is also famous for its magnificent temples and shrine buildings, each with its own story. In the early morning, the Kiyomizu-dera was the most enjoyable. I woke up before sunrise to climb up to the temple and the streets leading to it were almost empty. The walk itself was charming, with traditional shops and restaurants lining the road, their shutters still closed in the pre-dawn quiet. When we reached the temple, the wooden platform offered a breathtaking view of Kyoto bathed in soft morning light.

Fushimi Inari Temple was a completely different experience that lasted two visits. The first time I went in the morning, expecting the tranquil atmosphere for which the iconic red torii gates are famous. However, by 10 am the wonder was somewhat overshadowed by the growing crowd of tourists. Even with all the activity, I felt that there might be the tranquillity I was looking for, and I knew I had to go back. Such a magical place deserves to be visited at a quieter time.

Later in the evening, my friend and I returned to the temple after sunset. The energy was completely different - calmer, almost otherworldly. Thousands of vermillion torii gates, now dimly lit, formed an extraordinary tunnel through the forest. As we wandered deeper, the bustling city seemed like a world away. The rustle of leaves and the crunch of gravel underfoot replaced the tourist buzz we had heard earlier. In the darkness, the sanctuary seemed to breathe more freely, as if it could finally reveal its true face.

And then, as if the forest wanted to remind us of its wild heart, we came across a wild boar. It appeared suddenly, its presence unexpected, but strangely fitting in with the stillness of the night. For a moment we stood still, frightened and surprised. Fortunately, he moved on, leaving us with a story to tell with both fear and nervous laughter. That evening's visit not only taught us a new word - inoshishi (wild boar in Japanese) - but also remains one of my most vivid memories of Kyoto - a mixture of tranquillity, mystery and the wild, untamed beauty of nature. (The walk through all the gates takes a long time, probably close to 2 hours, but the views from the top, as well as the walk as a whole, are something else, and I recommend it to anyone who goes during the day or in the evening).

Aarashiyama felt like I was once again in another world. The bamboo forest, especially in the early morning, was enchantingly beautiful. Tenryu-ji Temple, a Zen temple with a beautiful garden that blends so naturally with the surrounding mountains. I met an elderly couple there, they had come on holiday from northern Japan and struck up a conversation when they saw that I was taking pictures of another couple. They told me about the bamboo - how fast it grows (up to three centimetres a day!) and how invasive it can be. It was interesting to learn that something so beautiful can also be so destructive.

Another site I visited was Kinkaku-ji, the Golden Pavilion. The golden leaves of the temple shimmered in the sunlight, and their reflection was brilliant in the pond below. The gardens were beautiful, although I was a little disappointed that you couldn't enter the pavilion itself. However, the view was unforgettable and I kept the entrance ticket as a little souvenir - a little piece of Kyoto that you can carry around with you, people say it brings good luck.

I can't finish the story of Kyoto without mentioning the fabric shops. Kyoto's creative soul is expressed through its artisans, especially its textiles. Many of the shops sold exquisite fabrics with examples of how to turn them into bags, skirts or dresses. They even provided QR codes with sewing patterns - such a thoughtful touch! I must admit, I'm a bit sorry I didn't buy anything, because I haven't seen similar shops in Japan other than Nara.

Of course, I can't talk about Kyoto without mentioning matcha. Uji, just outside the city, is the birthplace of top quality green tea, and I couldn't leave without buying it. I found a special kind of matcha that is only sold in Kyoto, and now every time I make a cup it feels like a little ritual that takes me back to those quiet streets and tea shops. Matcha here is an art form, a tradition that has been cherished for centuries. I learned that green tea was brought to Japan by Buddhist priests in the 8th or 9th century, but it was only in the Kyoto Uji region that it really flourished. Even a tiny tin of matcha can last for several weeks, with just a gram or two being enough for a rich, vibrant cup.

Kyoto is a city that feels alive, as if it were breathing with you, and I can't fully explain that.

It is a vibrant and creative city, but at the same time it is calm and contemplative, where the past and the present coexist beautifully.

Walking through the streets of Gion, admiring the vermillion gates of Fushimi Inari, or just sipping matcha in a quiet teahouse, I felt as if I had touched a piece of the Japanese soul. It's a city with a soul that embraces you and doesn't want to let go. Even now, as I write this memoir, I feel its pull, as if it were calling me back. And I know that one day I will respond, because Kyoto is not just a place - it is a feeling, a memory, a promise to return.