It didn't take long scouring the Internet to realize that I wasn't going to spend five days in Takamatsu. There appeared to be very little there other than a nice view of the water (the few hours I did end up staying there confirmed this). So the question became how to efficiently budget my time so that I could see as much as possible, and still make it back to Takamatsu on Sunday to catch my flight back to Shanghai. Several possibilities were within shooting distance: Matsuyama and Hiroshima to the west, Okayama, Himeji, Kobe, Osaka, and Kyoto to the east. I decided that my primary destination would be Kyoto, for its history and foretold physical beauty, and while I would try to hit as much as I could on the way to and from the old capital, I would make it my primary stomping grounds for the trip.
Boy was I glad that I did.
Kyoto is a city of two temporal mindsets; a capital steeped in imperial history without refusing to usher in the hustle and bustle of a modern urban environment. The countless temples, shrines, and palaces are scattered throughout the city, and are surrounded by the modern city, which in and of itself is quite lovely. It has virtually none of the steel splendor for which Tokyo is known; aside from the Kyoto Tower, which looks like a miniature version of Seattle's Space Needle, I don't think any building eclipses 20 stories in height. This provides for stunning views from high ground, of which there is plenty in the mountains that form a bowl in which Kyoto is nestles, of the low-rise cityscape.
I saw a sign on my first day there that declared Kyoto to be "The Walking City." So walk I did, weaving my way in and out of the narrow alleyways, mountain paths, and myriad temples. The tourist map of the city that my hostel gave me was initially quite daunting - there was no way I was going to see everything in just two and a half days. So I just walked, and saw as much as I could.
Unlike some of the ancient capitals in the West (think Rome and Athens), much of Japan's historical treasures have been restored and rebuilt, either because they burned down (everything in Japan is made of wood) or because of the focus paid to maintaining the true essence of the building. This struck me as an interesting contrast from the way we traditionally treat historical artifacts in the western world, where we seem to be impressed only by how old something is, and how little it has been interfered with. History, in Japan, is preserved through restoration and constant upkeep -- the tour guide at the Imperial Palace noted that the palace's maintenance, which is purely for symbolic value, costs Japanese taxpayers millions of yen every year. She said that each of the buildings have their roofs completely redone every 30 years, which requires so much cedar tree wood that it takes 25 years to gather enough. Restoration and reconstruction, according to the strict guidelines of how it would have been built in the past, was a refrain I heard at virtually every historic site I visited in Japan.
One of the refreshing things about Kyoto is that it didn't seem at all repetitive, as I thought it may have been. Each site had its own character and history, and even if I couldn't understand all of the Japanese descriptions on the various displays, I felt like I saw something different each time. From the Imperial Palace in the center of the city, to the Golden Pavillion, to the Inari Shrine, to the Kiyomizu-dera Temple, to the Nishiki Food Market, to the Kyoto Museum, to the International Museum of Manga, to the various restaurants and bars I went to -- I don't think I was disappointed by a single thing I did in Kyoto.
I saw a sign on my first day there that declared Kyoto to be "The Walking City." So walk I did, weaving my way in and out of the narrow alleyways, mountain paths, and myriad temples. The tourist map of the city that my hostel gave me was initially quite daunting - there was no way I was going to see everything in just two and a half days. So I just walked, and saw as much as I could.
Unlike some of the ancient capitals in the West (think Rome and Athens), much of Japan's historical treasures have been restored and rebuilt, either because they burned down (everything in Japan is made of wood) or because of the focus paid to maintaining the true essence of the building. This struck me as an interesting contrast from the way we traditionally treat historical artifacts in the western world, where we seem to be impressed only by how old something is, and how little it has been interfered with. History, in Japan, is preserved through restoration and constant upkeep -- the tour guide at the Imperial Palace noted that the palace's maintenance, which is purely for symbolic value, costs Japanese taxpayers millions of yen every year. She said that each of the buildings have their roofs completely redone every 30 years, which requires so much cedar tree wood that it takes 25 years to gather enough. Restoration and reconstruction, according to the strict guidelines of how it would have been built in the past, was a refrain I heard at virtually every historic site I visited in Japan.
One of the refreshing things about Kyoto is that it didn't seem at all repetitive, as I thought it may have been. Each site had its own character and history, and even if I couldn't understand all of the Japanese descriptions on the various displays, I felt like I saw something different each time. From the Imperial Palace in the center of the city, to the Golden Pavillion, to the Inari Shrine, to the Kiyomizu-dera Temple, to the Nishiki Food Market, to the Kyoto Museum, to the International Museum of Manga, to the various restaurants and bars I went to -- I don't think I was disappointed by a single thing I did in Kyoto.
Kiyomizu-dera Temple, which offered great views of the city and cool architecture.
The Imperial Palace in Kyoto is governed by the Imperial Housing Office, which regulates visitors to the old residence of the Emperor. At 10AM and 2PM every day, foreigners can show up and take a tour, which I did. The palace itself has been stripped of its furniture (when the Emperor visits Kyoto, he stays in a different palace nearby), so the tour only consists of the grounds, which were cool in and of themselves.
The garden inside the Imperial Palace. Pretty nice for a backyard.
Japanese cities tend to form a grid of wide boulevards connected by narrow streets and alleyways. I thought this street was particularly cool because of the mountains in the background. The picture also ended up having a bit of "Abbey Road" feel to it as well.
The distinctly modern looking Kyoto Train Station. The stations in both Kyoto and Osaka seemed to serve both as transportation hubs and entertainment centers. A very small percentage of this huge building is used for the actual trains -- the rest is restaurants and shopping malls, which buzz with people until the trains stop running at midnight.
Across the street from Kyoto Station is the aforementioned Kyoto Tower. I didn't make the ascent, mostly due to lack of time, but also because I felt like I had seen Kyoto from above already, thanks to the various climbs I made at the shrines and temples.
The Kinkaku-ji, or Temple of the Golden Pavilion. Wrapped in gold foil, the temple is easy fodder for picture seekers, especially when you add in the water's reflection.
One of the highlights of the entire trip was the Inari Shrine: a 90 minute hike up a mountain past a dozen or so little shrines and altars, with literally thousands of orange gates lining the path.
The view from halfway up the Inari Shrine. Perhaps the only disappointment was that there wasn't much of a vista at the top of the hill, due to tree cover, so I had to settle for this view at the midpoint of the hike.
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