Our hotel was near the Kyoto Gyoen National Garden. Since we woke up early, we decided to explore the park and find some coffee. The Japanese generally don’t like people walking and eating on the street, a habit I picked up living on the East Coast. Eating a hot dog while walking somewhere in Philadelphia feels normal, but I was already learning that the Japanese just keep things cleaner than we do.
We stopped by a place called Eze Bleu that had just opened and grabbed two things to eat on a bench in the park. We quickly realized that the Japanese aren’t early risers—at least not on a Sunday at 7 AM—so we couldn’t find any coffee yet.
After the park, Kyoto stirred a bit, and we headed to one more bakery to finish our breakfast. We visited Brot Backer Bruder, where I discovered the Japanese curry bun, or kare-pan. This savory pastry fills dough with Japanese curry and then deep-fries or bakes it until golden and crispy. I ate several during the trip, and now it’s the one thing I want to learn to make back in the U.S. Japanese curry can taste a little sweet to me, but even when it does, these buns still hit. I’ve already started researching recipes to try making them in Philadelphia.
Yesterday, we began our temple visits at the Silver Pavilion. Today, we headed to Kinkaku-ji, or the Golden Pavilion. This Buddhist temple is famous for its gold-leaf exterior and stunning reflection in the surrounding pond. Ashikaga Yoshimitsu built it in 1397, and after it burned down, it was rebuilt in 1955. In the TV show Shogun, there’s a moment where Mariko explains to John that Japan is environmentally volatile: earthquakes, tsunamis, heavy rain, snow, and extreme heat influence building construction. Lightweight housing is standard. Rebuilding isn’t a tragedy—it’s just part of life. Japan makes you feel that. Many ancient temples have undergone repeated reconstruction.
You could ask whether this presents a Ship of Theseus problem, but it feels entirely different from how we treat ruins in the Mediterranean. Baalbek, built around 16 BCE, still stands today in Lebanon. Meanwhile, Japanese temples might not be original, but they carry no less meaning. The endurance of their spiritual essence through constant rebuilding—that’s the real wonder. These structures simply mark that continuity.
I didn’t plan the day well, but suddenly, I realized that the next temple was across Kyoto. Tenryū-ji, founded in 1339, is famously beautiful, with a stunning garden. I loved how the buildings connect via wooden walkways that slice through the garden. Like the Golden Pavilion, much of it was rebuilt in the 1800s. Because of its reputation, the temple draws a lot of visitors. Tenryū-ji also sits next to Arashiyama’s famous Bamboo Grove—a place swarmed with people trying to take photos without someone in the background. Good luck with that.
Afterward, we met our friends Dennis and Anje from the U.S. They inspired this entire trip. They planned a three-week adventure to celebrate his retirement, so we overlapped for four days. We explored Kyoto and walked over to the Kamo River Turtle Stepping Stones. These charming modern sculptures let you hop across the river instead of taking the bridge.
Next, we visited Kōdai-ji Temple and wandered through Gion’s geisha district. I can’t recall much about Kōdai-ji—except for an obnoxious Italian guy who stepped off the path to peer inside an off-limits building. That’s the problem with rushing through Kyoto: your memories blur. I didn’t take great notes, and none of the photos stood out, so I probably owe Kōdai-ji another visit.
Gion is ground zero for white people in rented kimonos. The district overflows with tourists, and plenty of shops rent out traditional outfits for the day. It’s a hilarious business model—people renting their grandparents’ old clothes to tourists. Great scam. I didn’t see any geisha while we were there, but the streets looked beautiful, and it was a pleasant visit. We visited the famous Yasaka Pagoda with its five-tiered roofs, then continued to Kenninji Temple.
We planned to celebrate Dennis’s retirement that night at Gion Shimizu, a restaurant where we’d made a reservation. Sometimes it is listed as Gion Shishishi. I noticed that some restaurants have two names. Before dinner, we stopped at a bar called Hanamitominaga. It had just seven seats, and that’s where I learned how much the Japanese love highballs. Turns out—I do too. Whiskey with club soda? Refreshing, boozy, and no beer bloat. It’s a perfect drink.
Gion Shimizu turned out to be excellent. There was a lot of small Japanese plates of in season produce, but I found the cooked fish preparation really interesting. Hot oil was poured over the skewered fish which lifted the scales.
The chef was friendly, and we enjoyed the evening. After dinner, we all headed to bed to shake off the last remnants of jet lag.
Next: Japan – Day 3: Kyoto