After two lively days in Osaka, we picked up our luggage from the hotel, took the train from Shin-Osaka Station to Kyoto Station, and then took a short taxi to our hotel. Kyoto immediately felt different, quieter, softer, and more measured. The streets were dimly lit, and the air carried the scent of autumn leaves and incense.
By the time we settled in, it was around 8:30pm, a little late for dinner in Japan, so we decided to find somewhere nearby. We came across a restaurant called Tateya, a small kaiseki restaurant tucked down a quiet street.
Kaiseki is Japan’s traditional multi-course dining style, a culinary art that celebrates balance, seasonality, and presentation. Each course is designed to highlight the purity and essence of the ingredients, using what is freshest and most representative of the moment. Spring might feature bamboo shoots and mountain vegetables, summer brings delicate seafood and chilled dishes, autumn highlights mushrooms and root vegetables, and winter focuses on warming broths and rich flavours.
We were seated upstairs, completely alone, which made the experience feel even more special. The meal unfolded slowly, one beautiful dish after another: grilled aubergine, fried gingko nuts, saikyoyaki (Kyoto-style miso-marinated fish), a mushroom stew-like dish, tachiuo tempura (cutlassfish), and a comforting bowl of rice with miso soup to finish. Each course was simple yet refined, showcasing the quiet elegance for which Kyoto is known.
Morning at Konchi-in Temple
We began our first morning in Kyoto at Konchi-in Temple, a quiet and elegant site belonging to the Nanzen-ji branch of the Rinzai school of Zen Buddhism. Originally established in the 15th century and later rebuilt in the early Edo period, the temple reflects the calm and balance of Kyoto’s Zen tradition.
The grounds were peaceful, with raked gravel paths, wooden corridors, and views that seemed perfectly framed at every turn. Konchi-in is best known for its Crane and Tortoise Garden, a dry landscape garden symbolising longevity and good fortune. Designed by Kobori Enshu, one of Japan’s most influential tea masters and garden designers, the garden features carefully arranged stones and sand patterns that evoke the image of cranes and tortoises resting among islands.
Inside the temple, the sliding fusuma doors are painted by artists of the Kano School, one of Japan’s most important art lineages. The atmosphere was serene, and we lingered for a while in the quiet, appreciating how everything, from the textures of the wood to the garden’s composition, was designed to encourage contemplation. It was the perfect place to begin our exploration of Northern Higashiyama.
The Tranquil Grounds of Nanzen-ji
From Konchi-in, we walked over to Nanzen-ji, one of the most important Zen temples in Japan and the head temple of the Nanzen-ji branch of the Rinzai school. The approach was peaceful, lined with tall cedar and maple trees that filtered the morning light. As we entered the main grounds, the vast Sanmon Gate came into view, towering above us with its dark wooden beams. Originally built in the early 1600s, it was reconstructed after a fire and now stands as a symbol of strength and renewal.
Inside the complex, we first stepped into the Hojo, the former head priest’s residence. The interior was beautifully preserved, with painted sliding panels, wooden floors polished smooth with age, and delicate views framed by traditional windows. Each room opened onto another scene, whether it was a glimpse of the garden or a painted landscape that felt alive in the soft light.
Outside, we followed the covered wooden walkways that connect different parts of the temple. The architecture created a gentle rhythm of shadow and light, guiding us toward the Hojo Garden, a classic example of a Zen rock garden. Raked gravel symbolises flowing water, while carefully placed stones represent islands. The simplicity of the garden made it feel spacious and calm, even with visitors around.
Nearby, the Suirokaku Aqueduct, a red-brick structure built during the Meiji era, cuts through the temple grounds. The Western-style arches are striking against the backdrop of moss-covered stones and traditional wooden halls, creating one of Kyoto’s most unique contrasts between old and new.
Hidden Corners: Kōtoku-an and Oku-no-in Shrine
After exploring the main grounds of Nanzen-ji, we visited one of its smaller sub-temples, Saishō-in. Quietly tucked behind moss-covered walls and shaded by maple trees, it felt like a secret pocket within the larger complex. The entrance opened into a modest garden arranged with stone, moss, and raked gravel, a space that felt both simple and deeply intentional. Compared to the grandeur of Nanzen-ji’s main halls, Saishō-in had an intimate atmosphere, the kind of place that invites stillness. The garden’s muted colours and soft textures made it easy to slow down and take in the surroundings at a gentler pace.
Beyond Saishō-in, we followed a narrow trail that led into the woods behind the temple complex. The path wound gently upward, shaded by tall trees and scattered with fallen leaves. As we continued, the sound of running water grew louder, guiding us deeper into the forest. Soon we reached Saishō-in Oku-no-in, a small and secluded shrine built beside a waterfall.
The air was cool and fresh, touched by the mist rising from the water as it cascaded over the rocks. Stone lanterns, worn smooth by time, lined the clearing, and the forest canopy created a natural shelter overhead. It felt like stepping into another era, one that existed far from the pace of the city below. The peaceful setting, combined with the steady sound of flowing water, made it one of the most serene places we visited in Kyoto.
Lunch at Café de Whojé
On our way back down from Oku-no-in, we stopped for lunch at Café de Whojé, a small, family-run café along the quiet road leading out of the temple grounds. Run by an elderly Japanese couple, the café felt timeless, with soft music playing and the smell of toast and coffee in the air.
The menu was simple and homely, featuring toasts, croissants, sandwiches, and a small selection of baked goods and patisserie. I ordered an egg sandwich and an espresso. For dessert, I couldn’t resist trying the matcha Mont Blanc, a Japanese take on the classic dessert made from sweetened chestnut purée and whipped cream. The name Mont Blanc comes from the famous Alpine peak, as the dessert’s shape resembles a snow-capped mountain. In the Japanese version, matcha powder gives the chestnut cream a delicate green colour and earthy flavour, a beautiful balance of East and West.
We lingered there for a while, enjoying the peaceful atmosphere and watching the occasional passerby outside the window. After a morning of temples and quiet paths, it was the perfect place to pause and take in the slower rhythm of Kyoto life.
Eikan-dō Temple and the Looking Back Amida
After lunch, we continued our walk toward Eikan-dō Temple, one of Kyoto’s most beloved temples. The complex sits on a gentle slope surrounded by trees, and even though the autumn colours had only just begun to appear, the grounds were still full of quiet beauty.
Eikan-dō is best known for its Amida statue, called the Mikaeri Amida, or “Looking Back Amida.” Unlike most Buddha statues that face straight ahead, this one glances gently over its shoulder, as if caught in motion. The story goes that the statue turned to look back at the monk Eikan during meditation, telling him to follow. The gesture gives the statue a feeling of compassion and humanity, and standing before it, it was easy to understand why it has inspired so many visitors.
We wandered through the temple’s wooden corridors, which connect buildings at different levels and open onto views of mossy gardens and ponds. The soft light filtering through the trees made everything feel calm and timeless. Eikan-dō captured so much of what makes Kyoto special: beauty, history, and a sense of peace that lingers long after you leave.
Walking the Philosopher’s Path
Leaving Eikan-dō, we followed the Philosopher’s Path, a stone walkway that runs alongside a narrow canal lined with cherry trees. The path is named after the Kyoto University philosopher Nishida Kitarō, who is said to have walked here daily while meditating. Even outside the cherry blossom season, the walk was beautiful and peaceful, with the gentle sound of running water and the occasional cat lounging in the sun.
Small cafés, galleries, and craft shops dotted the route, each tucked into quiet corners or traditional wooden houses. We stopped often just to take in the stillness, watching leaves drift across the canal. It felt like a perfect reflection of Kyoto itself: simple, thoughtful, and deeply connected to the natural world.
The Quiet Beauty of Hōnen-in Temple
Before reaching Ginkaku-ji, we made a stop at Hōnen-in Temple, a small and peaceful temple tucked just off the Philosopher’s Path. The entrance is marked by a simple moss-covered gate that opens onto a serene courtyard surrounded by tall trees.
Inside, two raised mounds of white sand flank the pathway, carefully shaped and symbolising purification. The atmosphere was hushed, with only the sound of birds and the rustle of leaves overhead. A few visitors moved quietly through the grounds, but it still felt deeply secluded, like a hidden pocket of calm within the city.
We took our time wandering around the small buildings and gardens, appreciating how every element, from the raked sand to the mossy stones, seemed arranged to invite reflection. Hōnen-in was one of those places that captures the quiet spirituality of Kyoto, the kind of spot that lingers in your memory long after you have gone.
Ginkaku-ji, the Silver Pavilion
After leaving Hōnen-in, we continued along the Philosopher’s Path until we reached Ginkaku-ji, also known as the Silver Pavilion. Originally built in the late 15th century as a villa for shogun Ashikaga Yoshimasa, it was later converted into a Zen temple. Despite its name, the pavilion was never covered in silver leaf as originally planned, yet its understated beauty feels entirely fitting for Kyoto’s quiet elegance.
The temple grounds are beautifully arranged, featuring a meticulously raked sand garden known as the Sea of Silver Sand and a striking cone-shaped mound symbolising Mount Fuji. We followed the path that winds up the hillside behind the pavilion, offering peaceful views over the gardens and rooftops below.
Even though it was one of the more visited sites of the day, Ginkaku-ji still felt tranquil, especially as the afternoon light softened. The combination of the temple’s simplicity, the sound of water, and the scent of pine trees created a perfect sense of harmony. It was a peaceful way to end our walk through Northern Higashiyama, a day filled with art, nature, and the quiet spirit of Kyoto.
Evening at the Minamiza Theatre
After visiting Ginkaku-ji, we took the bus back to our hotel to rest for a while before heading out again in the evening. That night, we went to the Minamiza Theatre, one of Japan’s oldest and most famous Kabuki venues, located near the Gion district. The performance we saw was a Kabuki dance, a graceful and expressive style of traditional Japanese theatre that combines music, movement, and elaborate costumes. Even without understanding every word, it was mesmerising to watch; the gestures, rhythm, and atmosphere told their own story.
After the show, we found a nearby restaurant for dinner, enjoying a quiet meal before returning to the hotel for the night. It had been a full day of temples, gardens, and culture, and ending it with a glimpse into one of Japan’s most traditional art forms felt like the perfect close to our first full day in Kyoto.
Which temple or hidden corner of Kyoto would you love to wander through first?
No Comments