Japan > 300 km/h to Kyoto

Today we are taking the train to Kyoto. Only Wilco isn’t coming along; he flies back to the Netherlands from Tokyo tomorrow morning. A strange thought. I say goodbye to him at the hotel and then walk to the station. We’ve chosen the Shinkansen, Japan’s high-speed rail line. When we arrive at the station, it turns out the train isn’t that unique—one departs every ten minutes. The trains arrive and leave the station exactly on time. We have tickets for the 8:30 train. Our seats are in the very last car, and the platform is clearly marked to show exactly where each car stops. Shortly after, I’m speeding toward Kyoto at three hundred kilometers per hour. Strange thing: looking out the window, I don’t really get the impression the train is three times faster than usual. Only when something is very close to the tracks do you notice the speed. Two hours and ten minutes later, I get off at Kyoto Central Station, over five hundred kilometers away. The beautiful glass-and-steel station hall is crowded—so much so that it feels more like an airport. I weave through the crowd to find the metro. With some help from bystanders, I buy a ticket. An older couple points me to the correct line.

Japan - The Shinkansen the Japanese highspeed train

I get off at Shijo Station. I’m standing at an intersection, but I can’t orient myself. My first instinct turns out to be completely wrong—my hotel is on the other side of the intersection. I have a “room” at the Centurion Cabin Hotel, which means I have a sort of bunk bed in a shared dormitory. The bed can be closed off with a sliding door. My bed isn’t ready yet, so in the lobby I start chatting with two girls from America. They are instantly jealous when they hear how I traveled to Japan. I leave my luggage at reception and head into the city, where I meet up with the others. After lunch, everyone goes their own way. I wander into the Gion district to see some of Kyoto’s temples—and there are plenty of them, so I will have to make choices. It’s even hotter in Kyoto than in Tokyo; a thermometer on a building across the street shows 38 degrees Celsius. I try to stay in the shade. Leaving the shopping streets, I walk through the narrow streets of Gion, surrounded by wooden houses on both sides. Apparently, fires used to regularly destroy entire neighborhoods in central Kyoto, but the Gion district across the Kamo River survived, as did the Kiyomizu-dera Temple. The temple sits atop a hill. I climb up with hundreds of other visitors and pilgrims, the path lined with restaurants and shops on both sides. The first view of the temple is stunning. I walk under a torii (gate). Inside the temple, where I must remove my shoes and carry them in a plastic bag, are beautiful Buddha statues.

Japan - The hilltop Kiyomizudera Temple

People pray at the statues, light candles, and make offerings. There isn’t much time for this; the line of waiting people is long, and everyone wants a glimpse. From the temple terrace and stupa, I can see Kyoto below. At a bend in the path, there’s a sign in Japanese stating that entry isn’t allowed after 5 p.m. Other tourists translate for me that another temple is only a five-minute walk away. Together, we go looking—it turns out they are Chinese. Chinese and Japanese characters have many similarities. We don’t find the temple, but it’s nice to chat with them for a while. I walk back to the Kiyomizu-dera sanctuary. Behind it lies Maruyama Park. I hurry to Chion Temple, but unfortunately, it is already closed; no one is admitted half an hour before closing. Chion Temple has the largest entrance gate in all of Japan. I walk back into the city and check in at my hotel. My bed reminds me of the overnight on the boat from Vladivostok—two beds stacked on top of each other. Each bed has a sliding door, a TV, a small foldable table, and a power outlet. Everything looks neat and well-maintained. The shared shower and sauna are also tidy—a great place to stay right in the city center. In the evening, I meet the others again at Pontocho Alley, a very narrow street full of eateries. In one bar, we have a ridiculously expensive beer. On top of that, there’s an extra four-euro charge per person—feels wrong. In a narrow side street, we find a small, affordable Japanese restaurant. Inside, there are only three tables. The older lady prepares our food with great enthusiasm, and it tastes excellent.