alle asia JOURNAL ENTRY: 2024/12/18 – Only in Kyoto
Only in Kyoto.
Japan had always lived in my imagination, and yet, I’ve never been. A feeling that began with the curious consumption of early 2000’s anime. Not knowing what it was exactly, looking back, it seemed as if the wavelength at which they coloured their lives deeply resonated with certain parts of me, even if those parts weren’t fully realised just yet. And it was only in 2024 that I had been given the opportunity to step foot in Kyoto — a land that seemed so far, yet strangely familiar.
The entirety of the trip could only be described as a blur — a surreal experience of sentiments and values I had only read and watched about. All coming to life around me as I stepped foot into this self-idealised environment. A gorgeous environment, no doubt. Beauty not only in geography, but in devotion to way of being. A people shackled and liberated by the prideful ideals of those who came before. Only in Kyoto.
Immediately, you notice how intentionality seeps through in all that they are — to a degree where nature is allowed to harmoniously co-exist. A sense of respect for one another, and in gratitude as seamless systems gently disappear into the everyday, leaving space for nature to freely express itself. Oh, and express itself it does — lush, beautiful shades that change with the seasons colour the passing of time. It’s no wonder the seasons are personified as much as they are — a sense of appreciation, expressed by a deep poetic connection of man and nature. Only in Kyoto.
We stayed in Minami-ku, a quaint part of the city south of the station. Narrow roads decorated with quiet little homes, it felt somewhat protected from the onslaught of tourists that swarmed the city year round (yet there I was.) I had made it a point to get up early, to go on quiet strolls in the surrounding area, to see what I would see. And on one of those mornings, I was greeted by a scene — two children no older than 5, adorned with bucket hat and backpack dutifully making their way over to school, hand in hand. There to greet them on their little adventure was a slightly hunched over elderly man. Beaming from ear to ear as they acknowledged one another, he stood in that same spot long after they had walked on, hands behind his back. It isn’t out of the realm of possibility to assume that this elderly man would stand in that same spot every morning, just for the sake of this five-second interaction. Is it a social responsibility? To govern and return the trust put in society by parents who allow children of such a young age to find their way in the big world. I thought about it. For a people so in tune with the poetic nature of life, when you do get a taste of life’s embers dying out, I can imagine a deeper sense of appreciation for life, starting anew. And it isn’t as if the rest of the world didn’t have the capacity to reflect this same sentiment. But it just felt more important here, they felt more in tune to the nuances of life. Only in Kyoto.
So important in fact, that the individual only exists to serve its society. Which I feel has left the people rather lonely. Etiquette, respect, and courteousness are values you put before the self, before how you feel. As with any nation where pleasantries are the norm, they tend to lose their value and meaning. It is unnerving — to be entirely accommodating in all your being, all the time. In fact, it’s rather exhausting for those unaccustomed, but you do get this sense that another language has been created out of this dynamic. The societal inability to convey through what’s said, has led to a sharp intuition for the unsaid. Which could be why the art they do end up creating is so evocative — as it’s only through art that they are able to express all that is unsaid. Only in Kyoto.
Immersed in all this beauty, one feels compelled to capture some semblance of it, to bring back a piece of what is felt back with them. For some, it manifests in the form of souvenirs, and others through photos. This came as unexpected struggle, as in my attempts to capture, a part of me questioned the true value of such an experience — should time not have been spent fully present, intertwined with the moment as opposed to composing a scene through my narrow viewfinder?
It was in Nara, at Sarusawa Pond, right before Nara Deer Park, that this feeling settled in me. I had naturally found myself gravitating towards the scene before me, walking aimlessly, taking it all in until finally finding a nice bench, a nice angle, to capture the moment. And out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a lady — who seemed to be in her early 30s — seemingly at one with her surroundings. Oh, so very still, just like an owl perched on a tree, looking into the distance, coffee in hand, just wholly present. Which was a stark contrast to this almost incessant greedy nature that I had felt in wanting to capture everything I saw. I gave myself the benefit of the doubt. Where for her, this was the world as she knew it, for me, it was a dream that I never wanted to end. But a part of me couldn’t help feel a bit inadequate. Putting down my camera for a minute, I sat there as she did, and settled into the scene. I let my senses take over. What a way to live. Only in Kyoto.
With the fleeting nature of these moments, it begs the question — to capture a piece of it in remembrance or to live it out fully in respect for its finite nature? Maybe one must first truly live the moment before attempting to capture it — in respect of said moment. But that’s just my perspective. I guess I do feel quite strongly that the inherent magic of a space and place demands our undivided attention.
Was Japan everything I imagined? Undoubtedly. This little journey served as an anchor in the mind, a tangible experience to ground my ideals in the true tones of their way of being.
If you ever stumble across the opportunity, do go.
Live among them for a bit.
You may feel as though you don’t belong — at least I did — but to be an imposter in itself is quite delightful.
Only in Kyoto.