After several days immersed in Kyoto’s temples and neighbourhoods, we decided to take a short day trip to Nara, Japan’s first permanent capital. Just under an hour away by train, Nara offers a remarkable concentration of historic sites set within forests and parkland. To make the most of our time, we followed a Lonely Planet walking itinerary, which loops through the heart of Nara Park and connects the city’s most important temples and shrines on foot.
The route promised a balance of history, nature, and gentle walking, taking us past monumental Buddhist temples, Shinto shrines hidden in the woods, and wide open parkland where Nara’s famous deer roam freely. It felt like an ideal way to experience the city at a relaxed pace, letting the landscape guide us from one site to the next.
Arriving in Nara and Todai-ji’s Nandaimon Gate
We arrived in Nara early, as recommended, to avoid the worst of the crowds. From Kintetsu Nara Station, it was a short walk to Todai-ji’s Nandaimon Gate, the official starting point of the walking route. The scale of the gate was immediately striking, flanked by towering Niō statues, fierce guardian figures traditionally placed at the entrances of major Buddhist temples. Representing Agyō and Ungyō, the protectors of the Buddha, their open and closed mouths symbolise the beginning and end of all things. Carved with exaggerated muscles and intense expressions, they are meant to ward off evil and protect the sacred space beyond.
At Todai-ji, the Niō statues are especially impressive due to their size and craftsmanship. Standing several metres tall, they convey a sense of power and movement that feels almost alive. Passing between them felt symbolic, like crossing a threshold from the ordinary world into a place of spiritual significance, setting the tone for our walk through the temple grounds.
From here, the path led us deeper into the temple complex, gradually building anticipation for what lay ahead.
Todai-ji and the Great Buddha
At the heart of the walk is Todai-ji, home to the Daibutsu, or Great Buddha, one of Japan’s most iconic religious sculptures. The temple was founded in the 8th century during the Nara period, when Nara served as Japan’s first permanent capital. Established under Emperor Shōmu, Todai-ji was part of a nationwide effort to strengthen Buddhism as a unifying force during a time of political instability, natural disasters, and disease.
Housed within the vast Daibutsuden Hall, the bronze Buddha has stood here for over a millennium, though both the statue and the building have been reconstructed multiple times over the centuries. Stepping inside, the sheer size of the space was overwhelming. Despite the number of visitors, the atmosphere felt hushed, with people instinctively lowering their voices as they took in the scale and presence of the statue.
Walking around the hall allowed us to appreciate the craftsmanship and ambition behind Todai-ji. The creation of the Great Buddha required enormous resources from across the country and was intended to symbolise national unity and spiritual protection. Even today, the temple carries a sense of endurance and gravity. It felt like a fitting centrepiece for the day, grounding the rest of the walk in history and reverence.
Nigatsu-do and Hokke-do
Leaving Todai-ji, the itinerary led us east and uphill toward Nigatsu-do, a smaller hall set above the main Todai-ji complex. From its wooden veranda, we paused to look back across Nara, with views stretching over rooftops and treetops toward the city beyond. The open vantage point and fresh air made it a natural place to stop, offering a welcome contrast to the enclosed scale of the Daibutsuden Hall below.
A short walk away, we reached Hokke-do, one of the oldest surviving buildings in the Todai-ji complex. Quieter and more understated, the hall felt contemplative and still, with an atmosphere that encouraged lingering rather than movement. Moving between these two spaces highlighted the variety within Todai-ji, from expansive views and open terraces to intimate interiors shaped by centuries of worship.
Deer, Parkland, and Mizuya-chaya
From Todai-ji, the walk gradually became quieter as we moved away from the main temple grounds. The path led us alongside open parkland at the base of Mount Wakakusa, where deer lounged in the grass, many of them stretched out in the sun, completely at ease. Seeing them resting rather than roaming gave the area an unexpectedly peaceful feel, as though the park itself was taking a midday pause.
As we continued, small shops, cafés, and restaurants appeared along the route, offering a gentle transition from temple grounds to everyday life. Crossing the road, we entered the Kasuganocho area, where the surroundings shifted again, becoming more wooded and enclosed. Forest paths replaced open lawns, and the atmosphere felt cooler and calmer beneath the trees.
Tucked into a clearing, we stopped at Mizuya-chaya, a simple traditional teahouse that serves comforting bowls of udon noodles. The menu was straightforward, with options topped with beef, deep-fried prawn, fried tofu, wild plants, or mushrooms. We stopped here for lunch, grateful for the chance to rest before continuing the walk. For something sweet, they also offer traditional desserts, and I chose green tea with sweet red bean soup and rice cake, a warm and gently sweet dish that felt especially comforting in the quiet forest setting.
Kasuga Taisha and the Lantern Paths
After lunch, we continued on toward Kasuga Taisha, Nara’s principal Shinto shrine. The approach itself felt like a journey, leading us along forest paths where rows of stone lanterns lined the way, many softened by moss and age. Deer wandered freely through the trees and across the path, some resting quietly among the lanterns, others lifting their heads as we passed. The combination of forest, stone, and animals gave the walk a calm, almost timeless quality, as though we were moving through a space where nature and ritual coexist effortlessly.
As the forest opened up, we caught our first glimpse of the shrine buildings in the distance. From afar, the bright vermilion structures stood out against the deep greens of the surrounding trees. One of the most striking features of the grounds was the presence of towering ancient trees, including a massive sacred tree near the shrine buildings that seemed to anchor the entire space. Standing beneath it, the scale and age of the landscape felt just as significant as the architecture itself.
Closer to the shrine, the lanterns became the defining feature. Kasuga Taisha is famous for the thousands of lanterns donated over centuries by worshippers, each one a quiet act of devotion. Stone lanterns filled the outer paths, while bronze lanterns hung in dense rows around the shrine buildings. Inside, we stepped into a dimly lit corridor where lanterns glowed softly in the darkness, their light reflecting off metal surfaces and wooden beams. The effect was deeply atmospheric, immersive rather than dramatic, and encouraged silence and stillness.
Kasuga Taisha felt shaped by continuity rather than monumentality. Unlike the vast scale of Todai-ji earlier in the day, this shrine conveyed its significance through repetition, age, and ritual. The lanterns, the forest, and the subdued light all worked together to create a sense of quiet devotion, making it one of the most memorable and emotionally resonant stops of the walk.
Returning to the City and Kōfuku-ji
From Kasuga Taisha, we began the walk back toward the centre of town, passing first through Ni-no-Torii, then following the route through a wooden arcade lined with small shops. The transition felt gradual and natural, easing us out of the forest and back into the rhythm of the city. Passing through Ichi-no-Torii, the final gate of the route, marked a clear return to Nara’s urban centre.
We ended the walk at Kōfuku-ji Temple. The famous five-storey pagoda was under restoration during our visit, its structure largely hidden from view, but the grounds still offered much to explore. We spent time at the Central Golden Hall, a recently reconstructed building that now serves again as the spiritual heart of the complex. Nearby, we also visited Hokuen-dō, one of the oldest surviving buildings on the site, whose modest scale and quiet presence offered a thoughtful contrast. We also saw the three-storey pagoda, adding another layer of depth to the temple grounds.
Wandering through Kōfuku-ji, it was easy to appreciate the complex as more than a single landmark. The mix of restored and historic buildings, open courtyards, and surrounding greenery made it a fitting conclusion to the walk.
Back in Kyoto
Back in Kyoto later that day, Victor and I spent some time wandering without a plan, stopping for a coffee and enjoying a slower pace. We visited Ichihara Heibei Shōten, a long-established chopstick studio, where we chose a set of dark wooden chopsticks and a small decorative sake barrel I had been hoping to find throughout the trip. We also stopped by a beautifully curated design shop nearby to pick up a few elegant chopstick rests, simple objects that felt meaningful as souvenirs of everyday Japanese craftsmanship.
Later in the evening, we met up with Victor’s parents for dinner at Sake Hall Masuya, a lively spot known for its extensive sake selection and comforting, well-executed dishes. As expected, we began with sake, choosing a few different pours to sample and compare. The food was generous and satisfying, starting with potato salad with smoked daikon radish, a variation on Japanese potato salad that I instantly loved for its depth of flavour.
We also shared grilled Spanish mackerel prepared in Saikyo style, along with deep-fried octopus served with pickled eggplant and tartar sauce, which was crisp, rich, and full of contrast. An assortment of vegetable tempura rounded out the meal, light and delicately fried. The atmosphere was warm and bustling, making it an easy place to linger and enjoy both the food and the sake.
After dinner, we headed to Hello Dolly for a nightcap. The relaxed setting and quiet conversation made it a gentle way to end the evening, a calm contrast to the busy streets outside and a fitting close to another full day of exploring.
Reflections on Nara
As we walked back that evening, the rhythm of the day lingered with us. From forest paths and lantern-lit shrines to shared meals and quiet drinks, Nara felt both ancient and welcoming. It was a place where history is not confined to monuments, but woven into everyday life, making the short journey from Kyoto feel deeply worthwhile.
Nara lingered with us long after we left, shaped by forests, temples and an unhurried pace.
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