We had a packed itinerary. Kyoto, being the old capital of Japan, was the city of shrines, and my brother Onkar, from his own experiences in the city, had recommendations for us. Additionally, Mama had made it very clear before the trip that he was extremely interested in exploring ‘the cultural aspects’ of the country, with shrines and temples at the top of his list. Since he was in the country for much shorter than I was, and since the other family members didn’t have extremely strong preferences of their own (okay my cousin Eva did, but we’ll get to that later), we agreed to go along with what Mama wanted.
Per Onkar’s suggestions and being the designated itinerary-maker, I led my family to Kinkaku-ji — a beautiful buddhist temple in the middle of a pond whose top two floors are covered in gold leaf. It was close to the hostel we were staying at, and I’d designed the day to begin there and then gradually move south towards the city centre, culminating at the grand Fushimi-Inari — the head Shinto shrine.
The day began in mishap though, as we said no to the bus we were supposed to take (it even stopped for us), under the impression that it was the wrong number. The realization hit a minute too late and we began the day 20 minutes behind schedule. In hindsight, this was only the foreshadow.
Next on the list was Kitano-temmangu shrine, but having spent longer than planned at Kinkaku-ji, it was a mutual decision to skip it.
Kyoto Sento Imperial Palace — what was once the residence for retired emperors in the city — was also an optional item on the itinerary, but with myself, mom and Mama having visited it already on our last trip here, in favour of time, we decided against that too.
That led us directly to Kyoto’s geisha district, Gion. Having recently read Memoirs of a Geisha by Arthur Golden, I’d been so intrigued by the whole concept that I’d brought my family to explore the area the night before, too. There was more to see yet, and by the blessed excuse of there being more shrines in the area to pique Mama’s interest, we returned.
We saw the famous Tatsumi bridge together and then split up into 2 groups. Mama, Mami (my aunt) and mom went to visit a few more — can you guess it? — ShRiNeS! in the area that I’d saved pins for in mama’s phone. Eva, Chachu (my paternal uncle) and I instead headed towards a specific Starbucks branch which, interestingly, was also on the itinerary and not just a see-it-go-in. Starbucks Coffee, Kyoto Ninenzaka Yasaka Chaya, was originally a Japanese house that was converted into a Starbucks but retained its traditional-style interior. We sipped our drinks sitting on tatami mats, and waited for the other party to finish sightseeing and join us.
Even though we’d skipped half the day’s original itinerary up to this point, we were behind schedule. (Then again, being on schedule isn’t even a question when traveling with family like this — it’s more about how far behind schedule we are, and if we can make it home even by 12 instead of 10 because sleep is for the weak and shrines need visiting.)
There was one more temple — Kiyomizu-dera — on our list before the great Fushimi-Inari. This one was unskippable, because apparently Mama had woken up early one morning and gone for a walk during our last Japan trip, stumbling upon this temple. He described it as one of his best memories of the trip and one of the most beautiful places he had ever been to (and this man comes from the land of the Taj Mahal). It was a must-do item on our itinerary, but it was nearing closing time and we’d already walked a lot. Plus, we needed our strength for Fushimi-Inari. We postponed Kiyomizu-dera to the next day, determined to still go, and headed towards our final destination.
Fushimi-Inari is a 2ish-hour hike up Mt Inari, and it was a conscious decision for us to to do it at night, once again heeding Onkar’s suggestions because ‘it looks cool in the dark’. It worked out nicely because this is one of the few shrines that’s open 24 hours a day. We didn’t have all night though, as our hostel had a curfew (last entry at 11pm) and we weren’t too keen on sleeping outside. After establishing that we would take pictures on the way down rather than up so as to not find ourselves short on time later, we set off in high spirits.
I say hike, but a large component of it is stairs, and stairs tire you easily. Obviously some of us were fitter than others. I’d made the unfortunate decision to carry my rather heavy laptop bag with me all day as I’d planned to work for a while from Starbucks. I did, but I was regretting not dropping it off at a storage facility before Fushimi. Chachu offered to share the responsibility though, and together with a few collective breaks for everyone to catch their breath, the family and the laptop bag both got to the top in good time.
(There’s a fun story about hearing a boar in the wild about two thirds of the way up, thinking it was a bear or lion, screaming, running back and tailgating people braver than us the rest of the way only to learn that there no bears or lions in Kyoto and it was just a pig.)
On the way back down, we stopped for pictures at a stunning viewpoint, where we met another group with two German girls and an old Japanese man. We’d seen them and exchanged pleasantries once briefly during the hike too, and now they told us that there was actually an even better viewpoint not far from where we were.
Mama, Mami and Eva had had enough. The pig scare had been scariest for Eva, and the three of them told us they’d meet us at the bottom. Chachu, mom and I followed our new acquaintances up another path, beyond a mini-shrine (we passed a lot of these during the hike) and into an opening that was pitch dark with a view of all the city lights at night. We learned that Shigeru, the old man, came here and climbed Mt Inari every single night. He showed us the lights of Osaka in the distance and told us more about the places we told him we’d been earlier in the trip.
The girls soon took off with another group of Germans they ran into, but Shigeru accompanied us down the mountain, taking us on detours to a wishing place (you’re supposed to make a wish and then try to lift this rock, and if it feels light to you then your wish will come true. Spoiler alert — it’s objectively ultra-heavy. Great way for legend to waive liability, though.), telling us more about Fushimi-Inari itself (apparently it was moved to Kyoto 1300 years ago from somewhere else — how do you move a shrine?! — and there are thousands of Tori gates with inscriptions of the names of the people who donated them on the left side and the date they were built on the right, followed by the words ‘lucky day’), testing our Japanese and teaching us more.
We lost track of time amidst all this, and by the time we said goodbye to him and met back up with the rest of the family — who obviously were not in great spirits after waiting much longer than they’d expected to — we were tight on time to reach home before curfew.
To top their disappointment, we had a navigating glitch and realized we’d just missed the train we were supposed to take, thinking that we had to catch it from a different station nearby. We waited 20 minutes for the next one, and a while longer for our connection after that (coincidentally meeting the same German girls from before on the platform). The hostel was a half hour walk from the last station, but it began absolutely pouring when we got off the last train and it took 15-20 minutes of trying to get a taxi to realise that it wasn’t going to happen.
Mama had called the hostel in advance to request a slightly later admission, and they’d agreed to keep the gates open for 30 extra minutes, but we were still badly behind schedule. With no other option, we put our jackets over our heads and set off on our already-sore feet in the cats-and-dogs crazy rain.
Five minutes in, we decided it’d be best if Mama — the fittest of us all — jogged off on his own first so that at least he could reach in time and try to keep the gates open for the rest of us. After what seemed like forever, including a wrong turn and some added minutes, we reached, mentally drained and physically drenched. This time things ended alright, but they almost didn’t.
I’d been clever in optimising our itinerary to get to the places we wanted to see as efficiently as possible, and we’d made smart decisions throughout the day to be able to get things done. We’d been good on time even when we reached the top of Mt Inari. How then, did we get so carried away when with Shigeru as to not check the route home and make sure we’d reach on time?
Was it overconfidence from reaching the top earlier than expected? Or sheer disregard/indifference towards the consequences in the enjoyment of the moment? Or just unjustified overconfidence that we’d manage whatever happened?
Spending a night at a train station might’ve been fine if I were traveling solo, but things are different in a family of six. Not everyone is in their 20s, for starters, and those who’d been waiting for the rest of us to return definitely didn’t deserve to pay for our carelessness.
I, at least, should’ve become more wary about travel logistics after the missed bus in the morning. Just because it didn’t have immediate consequences didn’t mean it should happen again, and definitely not that it should become a habit.
I can’t speak for the people around me but tonight was a close call and it was a reality check I needed to realise that some things — public transport, the weather, passing time — aren’t in my control. I can’t ‘wing’ everything, and I shouldn’t assume that I can. What I should do is give people around me the respect they deserve and for their sake if not for mine, live a little further from the edge.