A Quiet Morning Pilgrimage Through Kyoto

Some journeys begin with careful planning.

Others begin with a sandwich packed the night before and a 5 a.m. departure.

On a June morning, I left my home in Himeji before sunrise and headed east toward Kyoto. I had planned a day of temple visits, hoping to complete several stops on the Saigoku Kannon Pilgrimage, one of Japan's oldest pilgrimage routes.

I arrived at Kiyomizu-dera at 6:30 in the morning.

The difference between early morning and daytime Kyoto was remarkable. The famous temple grounds were quiet, and the air still carried a refreshing coolness. Standing on the wooden stage overlooking the city, I took a deep breath and enjoyed a rare moment of stillness.

It felt like a reward for waking up early.

Then I discovered my first mistake of the day.

Although the temple was already open, the goshuin office — where visitors receive traditional calligraphy stamps to commemorate their visit — would not open until 8 a.m.

I checked my watch.

It wasn't even 7 yet.

So much for my perfect schedule.

At the next temple, I encountered the same situation. While waiting, I sat quietly in the temple grounds and spent a few unexpected minutes watching several resident cats wander around the garden.

Looking back, those cats became one of the small highlights of the day.

Had everything gone according to plan, I would have rushed past without noticing them.

As the morning progressed, Kyoto became busier and warmer. By the time I returned to the area around Kiyomizu-dera, the peaceful streets I had enjoyed earlier had transformed into a sea of visitors from around the world.

It felt like a completely different city.

Later in the afternoon, I decided to visit Yoshimine-dera, a temple located in the hills west of Kyoto. Surrounded by nature and far from the crowds, it offered a different kind of quietness.

It was one of the most memorable places I visited that day.

Before returning home, I had one more idea.

Inspired by a television drama about the founder of Suntory Whisky, I thought it might be fun to visit the famous Yamazaki Distillery.

This time, however, I remembered the lesson of the morning and checked first.

The tour required a reservation.

Once again, my plans came to an abrupt end.

I laughed and accepted defeat.

Strangely, I wasn't disappointed.

Instead, I found myself looking forward to a future visit.

Perhaps that is one of the joys of travel. Every place you fail to visit becomes a reason to return.

When I left home that morning, I considered it a lucky day.

Not because everything would go according to plan, but because the day might bring something worthwhile.

In the end, I visited every temple I had hoped to see. I discovered an unexpected temple in the hills. I spent time with temple cats. And I found a new destination for a future journey.

Perhaps a lucky day is not a day when everything goes perfectly.

Perhaps it is a day when small detours lead you exactly where you need to go.