Kyoto: I

A look at the houses, the markets & the streets.

By Thomas Feng

August 25^th, 2015

the house

I’m knocking on the front door of the traditional Japanese house we’re staying in. I hear our host Taka-san cleaning upstairs. We have arrived in Kyoto three hours early and have only exchanged e-mails with our host. I’m unsure whether to keep knocking and calling Taka’s name or whether I should enter the house and say hello. It is 38 degrees outside with 100% humidity and my brother and I are desperate for some respite from the searing heat.

I decide to intrude. But at least I respectfully take off my shoes as I enter? I see the narrow, steep stairway to my right. I call out Taka’s name but again there is no response. I silently and slowly climb up the stairs. At the top, the white noise of the vacuum crescendos to my left and in the sunlit room I see Taka’s slender figure drying futons out on the rooftop. Nervously I knock and enter.

“Hello Taka-san. It’s Tom.”

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHh!” he turns suddenly shocked and begins to charge before realising that the intruder is just his house guest: me.

He proceeds to break into an uncontrollable fit of laughter for the next five minutes and gives me a hug. I’m shocked and confused but his laughing is contagious and we’re soon both in a fit to the bemusement of my brother who is waiting outside. The language barrier due to my non-existent Japanese makes the situation all the more odd and warm. Welcome to Kyoto.

Taka shows us how to navigate the quirks of the 200 year old house which is to be our Japanese-style home for four days. Our room is fitted with tatami (woven-straw) floors, traditional Japanese wide windows and minimal furniture which can be stowed away when we lay out the futons to sleep. I sit on the floor for the first time to hear nothing except trees swaying and the footsteps on the wooden hallway floors. It’s incredibly different to the city of Melbourne; it’s incredibly charming and quaint.

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The narrow street where the house was situated.

the markets

Off we go to the Nishiki markets, which are nestled between Sanjo-dori & Shijo-dori, and a right turn from the Teramachi arcade. The narrow five-block strip is known as Kyoto’s kitchen because it is brimming with culinary delights with many stalls running through generation after generations of family since its inception in the 14th century. The stained glass running along the triangular prismatic ceiling in its entirety painted the atmosphere of our walk through the market: a dynamic tessellation of locals and tourists with an endless, pleasant plethora of locally produced and procured food stalls that would heighten all of the senses.

The Nishiki Markets. Humans and food everywhere.

A food stall specialising in fish cakes and potato cakes. Thank you Kyoto.

Sanjo-dori, a long shopping strip stretching from the river to Nijo Castle filled with whimsical boutiques and cafes.

the streets

Grids of narrow streets lie in between the rows upon rows of two and three storey buildings stacked side by side like a bookshelf with books of all shapes and lengths sitting next to each other. The terrain is flat and the dense nature of the city means it is incredibly bicycle and pedestrian-friendly to travel from A to B. An odd vending machine offering food and drink at an affordable price was never too far, as were mini-marts which played Pokemon-style music in-store.

I was swallowed by the streets of Kyoto; my whole self felt immersed inside a carthasis and lost in a place that I could call home. I was intrigued by the way the mountains and the river were intertwined with the city as if they were its spine. I was charmed by how the emptiness during the day would invite me to look into the city at its full, inducing me into a kind kinesis which would lead me into the city’s heart; a heart which pumped the whimsical beat that makes Kyoto blossom every waking minute.