White Man Walking: Tranquil Kyoto

Jetlag is a funny thing. It’ll get you up and knock you down at the worst times. Such was my first morning in Kyoto when I woke at 5:00am. While jetlag can be a bane mostly, it can sometimes provide an opportunity. By six I hit the streets and meandered down to the Kamo River, a wide open space with walking paths on either side. The river moved swiftly despite being ankle deep in most places.

Kamo River

The city was peacefully quiet. There were few cars on the road. It was as if this city of 1.5 million was still asleep (indeed, most probably were). Along the river, a handful of people jogged passed me, while on the other side a group of school children clad in white shirts and purple shorts. The morning sun made quick work of clearing up the cloud that drifted in overnight.

I pushed on for close to an hour before deciding to turn away from the river. By chance, I came upon Imperial Palace Park, a rectangular space in the centre of the city that runs north to south for 1.5 km. In the middle of this oasis, surrounded by gardens and trees, is the former Imperial Palace (the Emperor’s head office moved to Tokyo in the 1880s). The palace is walled away from early morning intruders like me, so I walked throughout the park revelling in its beauty.

Entrance to Imperial Palace Park...many people on bicycles in the city

Eastern Gate of Imperial Palace

Imperial Palace Park

Fabulous collection of trees. One was more than 300 hundred years old, and wooden supports to keep it from falling down. I think if I was 300 years old I'd need some support to hold me up

Early morning stretch

I came upon a Shinto temple and watched quietly as a man performed his rituals. When he was done, I tried asking about the symbolism of his actions, but he told me his English was not very good. He led me to a poster tacked on a wall. The only thing I could read were the numbers “5” and “18”.

“This is today,” he said. “At the North Gate from 5:00–6:00 PM.”

It seemed to be a celebration of sorts. I realized that the numbers were the date. It was May 18^th. I made a note to return.

After having walked for about three hours I returned to my hotel for breakfast—rice, noodles covered in a red sauce that resembled spaghetti, but tasted different, and some fish. And to remind me of home a flaky bun with strawberry jam.

After a short rest, I was out on the streets again. This time I headed west to Nijo Castle, built in 1626. It was the first time I had seen so many tourists. Despite having missed the cherry blossoms by a month, the gardens and grounds were still spectacular. In one tree, were a number of gardeners perched on branches pruning by hand.

Nijo Castle

Lots of spring blossoms

Nijo Castle, a collection of five different buildings

Gardens at Nijo Castle

Leaving the castle, I looked at my watch and decided to make my way over to the Imperial Palace for the celebration that was to start at 5:00PM. I turned the wrong and spent some time walking in the wrong direction before realizing my error. I turned back finding the Park, where a large crowd had gathered at the North Gate.

A woman, I presumed from the U.S. (or Canada), came up to me and asked if I knew what was going on. I said I didn’t.

“I keep thinking it’s Angelina Jolie,” she offered.

“It’s not,” I shot back sounding as if I really knew what was happening and trying not to let her know how ridiculous I thought her suggestion was.

The sullen sound of a lone beating drum signalled the start of a long parade that included people dressed in traditional clothing. I stayed for some time, but left before the rituals and activities began. Outside the park, I looked at my watch and figured that I’d spent more than seven hours walking. I gave in to modern convenience and took the subway back to my hotel.