Kyoto isn’t Tokyo. It whispers softly and lures you in with the rustle of bamboo and the silence between footsteps. It doesn’t fight to get your attention. You will listen anyway.
I have been walking alone through the streets of Kyoto, visiting temples and shrines in silent contemplation. Sometimes the best travel companion is your own solitude. It felt like a Kurosawa set in the off-season.
It is a strange sensation to wander around in a Japanese town as a gaijin, a foreigner excluded from the language and everyday rituals that everyone within sight silently obeys.

I followed in the footsteps of Scarlett Johansson’s character from Lost In Translation. I even listened to the song “Alone in Kyoto” by Air on my iPod, featured on the movie soundtrack as the backdrop while Scarlett walks around.
To further increase my movie buff epitaph, I must admit that one of the temples visited was the Nijo-jo castle, built in 1603 as the residence of the first Tokugawa Shogun, Ieyasu. For all of us who remember the Shogun TV-series and the old ninja movies with Sonny Chiba, this is holy ground.

The palace looks like a fortress with a moat surrounding the huge stone walls. To protect the compound from assassins, all hallways are equipped with “nightingale floors”, making a high-pitched sound when anyone steps on it. I tried my best to sneak across the building, but the floor revealed me each time. I suppose I would make a lousy ninja.

Unlike many other large Japanese cities, Kyoto is surprisingly quiet. I find myself being increasingly contemplative as I walk alone through tranquil gardens and magnificent temple grounds. Despite all this beauty, there is also a feeling of melancholy in the air. Nothing lasts forever, or as the Japanese express it, mono no aware.
Being alone in Kyoto isn’t lonely. It’s deliberate. It’s a pause between two loud chapters. It’s a soft-spoken reminder that the world doesn’t revolve around you, and thank whatever gods there are for that.
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