Kyoto Koyo

 The heat of summer now a hazy memory and the chill of winter ominously creeping in, all that was green before has once again turned as the year drifts into its final stage with the onset of late autumn. Yes, this is the two weeks of the year when the leaves go out in a spectacular blaze of colourful glory that is a must see if one is lucky enough to live in these parts. Seeing as I do, I decided to drag my girlfriend along with me to join the military grade hiking boot-wearing army of tourists whom invariably shuffle around with their high-end cameras endlessly crammed up against their eye sockets to the point that it ostensibly becomes an extension of their face. I can't blame them though because east Kyoto, the place we chose to embark on our koyo adventure, is as beautiful as it gets.

Upon surfacing at Gion Shijo Station on the banks of the Kamo river, my girlfriend and I head east on Shijo-Dori until we reach its conclusion and the opulent entrance to Yasaka Shrine. After jostling past a few stationary posers and no doubt ruining a few photos (which I have little moral aversion to and sometimes quite enjoy), we reach the top of the steps and enter under the huge torii. Once inside the grounds, we follow a stone footpath dotted with small rock monuments and a canopy overhead of brilliant red leaves which occasionally, detaching from their hosts, float to the ground like shimmering feathers ready to become part of the thin rouge carpet that veils the stone and cleanses our damp, rubber soles.

 The path opens up into the main courtyard and the true majesty of the shrine becomes perceivable. Larger, more elaborate carvings stand here, all in the shadow of the honden; the shrine's main hall, which's bright red facade and yellow accents are perfectly complimented by the foliage draped above and around us as if by some kind of divine decorator. We cross the courtyard and pick up another path which leads us to shrine's rear and up more steps into the famous Moriyama Park. Facing east from the park's pond, the view is spectacular. The placid water in the foreground reflects Kyoto's rolling eastern mountains in the near distance, every one of them alive with reds and yellows, browns and greens and violets. In contrast to the shrine though, the atmosphere here is somber as the crows caw in the imminent, wintry death of everything, and a lone samurai flutist harps melancholy notes on a shakuhachi in a nostalgic lament to innocence lost with the summer months.

After taking a moment to ponder and snap a few covert photos of old, slightly perverted male tourists finding their happy place posing between young kimono-clad Japanese women, we head south in our pursuit of Kiyomizudera. Perhaps the most famous temple in this part of the city, it is said to be one of the prime locations for koyou viewing in the whole of Kansai. A turn down a side street off the main drag thrusts us into the network of narrow, winding streets that is the heart of Higashiyama. Tragically bereft of any of the mundane blue vending machines strewn on every street corner in the rest of the country, and the equally unsightly wires that dissect the sky when one tilts one's head back in any other city, Higashiyama has been preserved almost perfectly since the Edo period, its catacombs lined with restaurants and gift shops that have presumably served pilgrims to these parts for centuries.

After an inquisitive jaunt into the Hello Kitty and a bag of overly-priced souvenirs later, we regroup, reflect dazedly on what just happened and take a mutual oath that we'll never tell a soul. By now the unbroken grey sky grows ever darker and occasional spells of rain keep umbrellas in a perpetual cycle of expansion and withdrawal. A few twists later and the street takes a sharp incline in its ascent to Kiyomizudera. The cobbled road is more crowded now as a torrent of people race to reach the summit for their perfect Kodak moment before the sun goes down. Similarly to down in the belly of the neighbourhood, gift shops and cafes line the street. However, up here they periodically offer free samples of tea and mochi; opportunities swiftly taken advantage of and a welcome treat for weary, slightly stingy travellers such as we.

At the top of the hill the narrow street births a vast, paved plain leading to the entrance of Kiyomizudera. The rushing current calms to a trickle as most people, cameras drawn, post up and turn west to look down on Kyoto. The view from our vantage point is extraordinary as the downtown area, slipping from its day state into illuminated evening, precedes the bulky mountains, the carmine sun sinking behind them and casting a celestial pink hue over the city that sparkles the windows and tiny, snaking rivers. It's in this brief moment that I acquire a transient understanding of tourists' obsession with high end cameras, but I can't quite remember what that was now.

 Within minutes, the sun has disappeared behind the hills and it's time to explore the grounds before the daylight is entirely stolen. After capturing the dusk koyo from Kiyomizu's famous stage, we climb up winding stairs to the apex. A cosy, well-lit platform with various small shrines and holy effigies, this is apparently the section of the complex dedicated to romance, and a quick waft of a paper streamer-lined baton provides one of the more interactive shinto experiences in a request for good fortune delivered to the gods that preside here. By now it's dark, and positively koyod out, our aching feet, legs and triumphantly chafed buttocks work in tandem to guide us back down to the city in search of some well deserved yakiniku and beer.