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Open only on Fridays, it was full of youngsters in ultrablack Temas gear, and even though my meager budget was evident in my outfit, they accepted me, slowly at first, then, when I told them I was from New York, quickly. If my Jim Beam hadn’t cost a shocking 1,300 yen (including a 500-yen cover charge), I might have stuck around a lot longer. As it was, I’d already spent almost a third of my weekend budget.
Kyoto Travel Guide
Readers’ Opinions
Where to Stay | Where to Eat | What to Do
The next morning began with a wholesome breakfast of rice, fish, pickles and soup at the Nishiyama. Then I packed my bags and brought them to Ikoi-No-Ie, a mini-ryokan about 10 minutes south. It was no Nishiyama. The owners’ attitudes ranged from indifferent to surly, and my new room was spotless but spartan (4,750 yen a night).
Instead of settling in, I set off on the three-speed I had rented from Nishiyama. At 1,000 yen a day, it cost about the same as a day pass for the subway (or a short cab ride), and offered something priceless: independence. How else could I have discovered Sou-Sou?
This shop takes traditional split-toed tabi slippers, sheathes them in bright, Marimekko-like fabrics and slaps on rubber soles, so you can wear them outside. Very cute, and even affordable, but they didn’t have my wife’s size. Instead, I got her two pairs of adorable toe socks (1,000 yen).
After a quick, yummy sushi lunch at nearby Sarara (980 yen), recommended by Sou-Sou’s clerks, I pedaled back out to Arashiyama — a trip that wasted most of the day and left me tired and crushed.
I perked up, however, when I met Maya Hara, a Kyoto resident who is a friend of a friend. Over coffee and walnut cake (970 yen) at Efish, an exceedingly cute riverside cafe, she told me about how she’d become a priest at her family’s Buddhist temple, and clued me in to what became my favorite spot in town: Yoramu.
In the dark of early evening, a few blocks from the Hotel Nishiyama, Yoramu’s glass entrance glowed like a beacon. I entered, walked past a rock garden combed in waves and took a stool at the broad, well-lighted bar, behind which the proprietor, Israeli-born Yoram Ofer, stood guard over dozens of tall sake bottles. On the stereo, Thelonious Monk plunked piano keys. And in what felt like my first moment of solitude in Kyoto, I was the only customer.
Yoram — dark eyes, close-cropped hair, cryptic manner — asked me what I liked and, without naming them, poured out three small glasses (1,200 yen). The first had a pronounced yeasty flavor, almost like fresh bread. The second was unaccountably mild — until I sipped it after a plate of Yoram’s fresh-made falafel (500 yen), and it exploded with floral notes. The third — a Katori, the only one of the three sold in stores, Yoram said — was sour, yellowish, pungent, seemingly wrong in every way except that it tasted wonderful. It reminded me of Monk’s playing: oddly keyed and arrhythmic, but precise, intentional, glorious.
As I drank, time slowed down, and the crowds seemed impossibly distant. People go to Kyoto for the tranquillity of its temples — I had found my tranquil temple there.
But in Kyoto, the crush of people is never far away. The next morning, I left the bike behind and headed a few stops east on the clean and speedy subway, where a ride is 210 to 340 yen and day pass is 1,200 yen. I got off at the Nanzen-ji temple complex, possibly the most beautiful — and therefore most popular — shrine-temple-castle-garden agglomeration. It was madness.
Tourists of all nationalities swarmed up the enormous Sanmon gate (admission 500 yen), and swirled around and into the temple (500 yen), and manically snapped photos of the brilliant autumn leaves and the red-brick 19th-century aqueduct. They moved in sync, and I felt myself getting swallowed up again, until I spotted a tiny trail leading away from the temples. I took a deep breath, waded through the morass and followed the trail past a cemetery, up a set of stone steps and into the wooded hills.
There, not five minutes from the masses, I found a small shrine, empty and silent but for the white static of a nearby waterfall. Then I continued up the path toward a massive rock outcropping that promised views of the valley. I had hoped for isolation, but instead found two American college students sitting at the top.
The moment of solitude had eluded me again. But as I sat there with the students, trading snacks and stories about Kyoto’s affordability (or lack thereof), I realized that tranquillity with strangers isn’t so bad. There can be peace in the crowd.
So, when I returned from the woods, I let myself be enveloped by a sea of tourists taking pictures of the crimson maple trees. I even took one myself: it was stunning, the spindly leaves etched in fiery detail. It was even prettier when I looked at it again, at home, alone.
Total: 32,890 yen (including a 4,460-yen post-sake dinner at Yamase, a tofu restaurant recommended by Yoram), about $319 at 103 yen to the dollar.
HISTORY AND RELIGION, THEN SUSHI AND SAKE
WHERE TO STAY
Hotel Nishiyama, Gokomachi-dori, one and a half blocks north of Oike; (81-75) 222-1166; www.ryokan-kyoto.com.
Ikoi-No-Ie, 885 Ushitora-cho; (81-75) 354-8081; www.ikoi-no-ie.com.
WHAT TO DO
Nijo Castle, Horikawa-dori and Nijo-dori; (81-75) 841-0096.
Nanzen-ji temple complex: take the Tozai line to Keage Station, then walk through the pedestrian tunnel.
Arashiyama: take the Keifuku rail line all the way to the end.
WHERE TO EAT AND DRINK
Bistro Zuzu, Takoyakushi-agaru, Pontocho; (81-75) 231-0736; www.zuzu.jp (Japanese only).
Efish, 798-1 Nishihasizume-cho; (81-75) 361-3069; www.shinproducts.com.
Yoramu, Nijo-dori, east of Karasuma; (81-75) 213-1512; www.sakebar-yoramu.com.
Sarara, 580 Nakano-cho; (81-75) 254-7545; www.wa-sarara.jp.
Yamase, Shinmachi-dori, south of Marutamachi-dori; (81-75) 213-5888.
WHERE TO SHOP
Temas, 122-1 Ishiya-cho, Pontocho; (81-75) 257-1951; www.temas.jp.
Sou-Sou, multiple locations; www.sousou.co.jp.
