One Perfect Morning in Kyoto

This story is for me, as much as it is for you.

This story is for when I’m old, and my adventures limited - perhaps in body but not in spirit.

I think of this quiet Kyoto morning often - and the memory sends tears to my eyes even now. I feel the need to write it down before I lose it or it becomes too fuzzy, despite the lump it leaves in my throat every time I try.

Let’s give it a crack, shall we?

Jon looked like death.

My husband had caught COVID somewhere around the end of our first leg in Tokyo.

He blamed a bustling Maccas, where we were wedged between what felt like half of Shinjuku’s salarymen on their lunch break. It was the one time I hadn’t eaten with him, opting for bakery treats from my favourite Green Thumb.

I blamed our day in Harajuku, with crowds so thick they carried us from one end of to Takeshita to the other - no hope of ever reaching the mini pig cafe or to grab a rainbow-coloured cotton candy.

Either way, our time in Kyoto was severely compromised.

Jon wasn’t well enough to explore day and night - so we opted for mostly daytime adventures, returning mid afternoon for naps and early dinners. We had to reduce our itinerary and discuss what places were ‘must do’.

I was feeling the travel exhaustion that comes about 2 weeks in, plus the struggle to keep Jon fed, watered and dosed up on whatever the chemist would give us. It felt like a full time job. Each evening I wandered the streets looking for good takeaway food off menus I could hardly read or translate (this is THE place for a charcoal grilled takeaway chicken and rice bento to die for).

On our last evening in Kyoto, I was overcome with sadness.

There were so many things we didn’t get to do. Often when I travel, what I feel saddest about missing out on are the small things - like visiting a laneway cafe I spotted earlier. Or trying a particular food I’d seen someone eating. The small things are the big things.

On this occasion, there were two things that upset me…

1. Visiting a temple at night to see the Autumn leaves lit up (Kyoto is known for its illuminations!)

2. Using the free bikes from our amazing hotel for a pedal-powered adventure. The cute cruisers had sat outside the front door, silently begging me all week.

   

So, on our last morning in Kyoto - Jon slept in.

And I crept out at 7am, determined to get a bike (first in, best dressed).

And I had a destination in mind - the Philosopher’s Path.

Google maps determined it was only 30 mins away by bike. Despite not riding a bike for several years, I gambled I had plenty of time to ride there and back and still have time to shower, get ready and check out.

What absolute joy!

To discover that this sprawling city was meant to be ridden. To discover we’d been doing it wrong all week - fighting to cover great distances on foot or battling the crowds on public transport. Even at 4 degrees on a chilly December morning, feeling the sting in my cheeks and hands.

The city is shaped like a large bowl, dead flat through the middle curving upwards into hills on all sides. The flat part finished sooner than expected and the hills felt like MOUNTAINS.

I huffed and puffed and urged my burning thighs to keep pedalling, eventually arriving at the beautiful stone path that weaves between cherry blossoms alongside a crystal clear canal.

It is THE most beautiful sacred spot - a treasure in the silent suburbs of an early morning.

I was filled with deep gratitude to myself for getting out of bed early and making the effort - all to have this quiet, peaceful moment - surrounded by natural beauty - to myself.

And, having swapped yellow ginkgos in Tokyo for blazing red maples in Kyoto, I thought my favourite tree days were behind me.

Until I stumbled across this park on the way back.

The city was alive by the time I pedalled ‘home’.

My favourite 80s songs were belting out through my AirPods, interjected with google map direction guidance, no one the wiser.

I might have also been playing my newest favourite song, forever associated with Japan as Jon and I heard it playing on the record player in our hotel lobby (go on, tell me it’s not catchy and you don’t love it).

I was swept up with all the locals or on their way to work. My confidence increased as I followed their moves from footpath to road and embraced the need for speed - mostly so I didn’t get in their way.

It was a total rush and I felt like a local. The experience reminded me that one thing I really love about travel is slotting into another culture, in their everyday rhythms.

I was getting close to the hotel - and eyeing the time compulsively - when I felt compelled to stop.

I’d spotted the cutest dog, sitting in the sunshine - his eyes closed, smiling.

Feel free to screenshot this free artwork for your phone wallpaper or download it here.

And here is where my special morning turned most meaningful - an elderly lady came over to pat the adorable Shiba Inu alongside me. Our mutual affection for him and curiosity for each other led to the most awkward and difficult - yet most beautiful - of all conversations I had on the trip.

Using my translate app as best I could, we eventually figured out a few things. It went something like this —

Me: “Cutest dog ever.”

Her: “I love him. He’s popular, shop mascot. Every morning I see him while I get groceries. Where are you from?”

Me: “Visiting from Australia.”

She nods, then says: “Hachi nana.” She repeats it proudly, tapping her chest. Wow. Eighty-seven years old. She looked incredible - she was so healthy and fit. She told me she walks everyday, and lives in an apartment nearby.

Me: “Hachi nana!!?”

She gestures to me, curious.

I tap my own chest. “Yon ichi”. Forty-one. Not sure I used the right words.

“I feel old,” I added, getting teary. As someone who has tried and tried unsuccessfully to have a baby in my mid to late 30s, that number felt ominous - the end of a long held dream. I felt defeated — my age often made me feel emotional and had for some time. I think she could see how I felt. I think she knew what I meant.

Her response — “You’re so young. Whole life ahead.” She smiled so warmly at me.

I realised she was more than double my age. If I had to start over again tomorrow, I could live another whole life filled with as much beauty as I have had in this one. For all the difficult things that the last few years had brought me in life — I felt seen, renewed and inspired by a total stranger. I’ve been calling her my Japanese grandma.

We said good bye and I wondered if she would be there again tomorrow morning. I wondered what she had seen in her eighty-seven years. I wondered if she had family and friends to spend time with.

I pedalled back to the hotel, a swirl of bittersweet feelings - gratitude for a perfect morning, reverence for the preciousness of time, and a tinge of sadness at leaving new friends behind.

In November 2024 I travelled to Japan with my husband Jon.

It was our very first time to this special country and the experience has deepened our connection to each other and a country where we left our hearts. I know. I leave my heart all over the place, and this was no exception.

I hope this story gives you a smile, some perspective and insight into a culture that I’m longing to return to.

How long do you think it would take me to draw a map of Kyoto in my distinctive line art style? 😅I guess I have my whole life ahead of me to finish it.

Yoi ichi nichi o!

Love,
Kylie + Mr G x

PS. I FOUND HIM! This makes my heart so happy. You can visit my cute furry friend on your next trip to Kyoto right here and see his picture on their website.

PPS. Here’s my first video of Japan, a cinematic overview of our 3 weeks across 3 cities. You’ll spot me sitting beside the Philosophers Path in the video. Enjoy!