Best Things to Do in Kyoto
You know how sometimes you plan a trip with this vision in your head, but then reality slaps you in the face with something totally unexpected? That was my experience in Kyoto. I went in, armed with all the "best things to do in Kyoto" (because, hey, you can't take chances), and yet, some of my favorite moments happened by pure accident.
This spot? Total surprise.
So, I land in Kyoto, heart full of travel excitement and stomach half-empty from the flight. I'm thinking shrines and tea ceremonies, but somehow ended up wandering down this little alleyway in Gion. Honestly, I wasn't expecting much; just a quick Google search away from all the main attractions, I thought it'd be deserted, maybe sketchy. But oh man, was I wrong!
I stumbled upon this tiny little teahouse. Just like a speck tucked between two buildings, it didn't even have a sign—just a door framed by climbing wisteria. I peeked in, felt this magnetic pull, and before I knew it, I was inside, sitting on tatami mats, surrounded by the soft whispers of the tea-making process. The old lady serving me—she barely spoke a word of English—ushered me through a traditional tea ceremony that was more like a beautiful ballet than a meal.
The taste of matcha was so rich and vibrant, sharp even, maybe because it was paired with these delicate, sweet wagashi. It was all so intimate that I couldn't help but feel like I was eavesdropping on a secret world, like I'd stumbled upon something sacred.
The afternoon that changed my whole mood
You know how life sometimes throws you a curveball? There was this one afternoon, when I was feeling a mix of exhaustion and doubt. I was dragging my feet toward Kinkaku-ji, the Golden Pavilion, expecting just another pretty temple to check off my list. But as I approached, this all-consuming gold shimmer made me stop in my tracks. Somehow, I felt lighter just looking at it.
I might've even gasped, which made me feel kind of ridiculous. It's just a building, right? But the way that glorious gold reflected against the shimmering pond? The moment caught me, drawstringing all the stress I was carrying. I sat down on a weathered bench, just absorbing the scene as the sun danced along the water's surface. I don't know—everything faded away.
Seeing people spill out their smartphones for selfies made it even cooler. Their laughter echoed in my chest, reminding me that, while I might have been alone, I wasn't lonely. Travelers from all corners of the globe were sharing this moment—not to mention a group of school kids were hanging out, way more interested in catching frogs than collecting social media moments. Major mood lifter, I tell you.
I almost missed this, no thanks to my bad sense of direction
Okay, real talk: my sense of direction? Really terrible. I swear I can get lost trying to find the bathroom sometimes. I had this whole plan to visit Fushimi Inari, you know, the shrine with all those stunning red torii gates? Somehow, I ended up wandering into a nearby vineyard instead. How? Don't ask. I have no clue.
But here's where it gets interesting—one step in and I realized I was in a place buzzing with life. They had this cute little outdoor cafe serving fresh grape juice, and lo and behold, I discovered my new favorite drink. I plopped down at a tiny table, awkwardly asking if they had any snacks (in broken Japanese, which was somehow more fun than embarrassing). The staff laughed and brought me some freshly baked bread paired with this remarkable grape jam.
Sitting there, with the sun on my face and a million grapes hanging around me, I felt like I was in a little slice of heaven. Totally unplanned and absolutely perfect. Another reminder that adventure doesn't always go as planned, and often, that's where the magic lies.
The meal that made me rethink everything
I can't write about Kyoto without talking about food. Man, the food! When I got back to the city after my detour, I searched for a place that felt local and cozy as opposed to the tourist traps all around. I ended up at this tiny izakaya, dimly lit like a little secret tucked away from the world.
The owner was this older gentleman, grinning from ear to ear while he handed me a menu that looked like it hadn't been updated since the '90s. I had no clue what I was ordering but trusted my gut and went for the grilled fish, thinking it was pretty basic.
When it arrived, the entire experience felt like poetry. The fish was cooked to perfection, skin charred just right. I found myself savoring every bite, slowly being swept into this delicious moment. The flavors danced around in my mouth, each bite a pleasant surprise. I don't know if it was the fish or the sake I sipped, but I left that place feeling somehow fuller, not just in stomach but in spirit.
Again, a small detour turned into one of the most memorable meals I've had in my life.
On the walk home, thoughts swirling
As I made my way back to my place, every step felt lighter. I was thinking about how the fundamental beauty of Kyoto didn't come just from its grand temples or perfectly manicured gardens. It was all the little things—the stray moments, the unexpected detours, and the warm souls I met along the way.
What had started as a meticulously planned itinerary had unfolded into something messier and more enriching. I learned to embrace the chaos, to welcome the unplanned experiences that turned out to be the real treasures of the trip.
I knew I would leave Kyoto with memories that weren't all perfectly posed for Instagram, but those that shaped my heart.
Sitting there in the café, swirling the last dregs of my coffee around, I realized life is about letting the unexpected guide you sometimes. So here's to Kyoto—the place that made me question my plans and finally let go a little. And you know what? I'd go back in a heartbeat.
