CHAPTER 158

Original: 2016-01-01

Rewritten: 2026-05-29

Before my wife and I became fans of Korean dramas, we were devoted viewers of Japanese dramas, especially NHK's annual historical Taiga series. Each production runs for 52 episodes, and we often rewatched them. Naturally, Japan became a destination we longed to visit, and Kyoto was our first choice.

As for Kyoto's imperial delicacies, I would highly recommend its famous boiled tofu. Made and prepared with Kyoto's crystal-clear underground spring water, the tofu is exceptionally smooth, delicate, and refined. On the evening we arrived, my wife and I each savoured a small cube of it for dinner.

First, one should quietly admire the tofu resting in a dark bowl, gleaming like white jade. Gently lift it with the tip of your chopsticks and let it slide into your mouth. Allow the fragrance of soybeans to spread across your taste buds. After two seconds, lightly press it against the roof of your mouth, and the "jade" will naturally glide down toward your stomach. Only then can one claim to have truly tasted it.

If eaten carelessly, the tofu disappears before the taste buds have even awakened, wasting all the craftsmanship and effort invested in its creation. Such a manner of eating is more suited to stinky tofu.

When eaten with attention and appreciation, it tastes even better. The only drawback is that the portion is rather "refined" - in other words, very small.

As country bumpkins setting foot in Kyoto, my wife and I tried to appreciate the essence of Japanese culture: discovering treasures within simplicity, where quality outweighs abundance. The beauty of simplicity certainly left a strong impression on us. To be honest, however, it also felt rather sparse. The atmosphere was too tranquil, and the flavours too subtle.

Kyoto was Japan's ancient capital before the Meiji Restoration. It nominally ruled Japan for over a thousand years. In ancient times, travelling to the capital was known as "going to Rakuyo" (Jōraku), with "Raku" referring to the Chinese city of Luoyang. Kyoto itself was designed in reference to the capital city of the Tang Dynasty. Its layout is orderly, simple, efficient, and easy to understand.

During our six-day visit, and being history enthusiasts, our first stop was the Imperial Palace grounds, where numerous emperors and their families had once resided. Today, the site has been converted into a museum and public park, and visits require reservations. The Emperor has long since relocated to Edo, now known as Tokyo.

The Imperial Gardens occupy the northeastern corner of Kyoto, beside the Kamo River that forms part of the city's eastern boundary.

It was here that we first began to appreciate the architectural equivalent of Kyoto's boiled tofu philosophy.

The Imperial Gardens are simple rather than magnificent. Three colours dominate the entire setting: grey-white, grassy green, and the dark brown of tree trunks. The only bright red appears in the shrines dedicated to warding off evil spirits, accented by touches of gold at the tips of the roof eaves.

The central figure of this world—the Emperor—was revered almost as a deity, removed from ordinary worldly concerns. Every word and gesture strictly adhered to imperial protocol, unchanged for a thousand years. Solemnity, restraint, and monotony permeated everything.

Outside the white walls ran broad gravel paths. Cyclists moved steadily and precisely along routes established by those before them. No one rushed ahead, and no one rang a bell. The cries of crows could be heard everywhere while people proceeded quietly on their way.

After seeing the actual locations where historical events took place - particularly the Sakurada Gate area, where the Imperial loyalist and anti-shogunate factions from western Japan, including the Chōshū Domain (Honshu), the Tosa Domain (Shikoku), and the Satsuma Domain (Kyushu), once engaged in violent clashes - this country bumpkin could no longer endure such understated stimulation. We decisively left in search of something more visually exciting.

Travelling five kilometres south, crossing Second, Third, Fourth, Fifth, and Sixth Avenue-like streets (jō), we headed straight for a modern attraction: Kyoto's enormous subway station. Along the way, we encountered a statue of Katsura Kogorō of the Chōshū Domain, one of the Restoration patriots frequently portrayed in the Taiga dramas. His statue stood proudly before a commercial building.

On the station's western side is a vast staircase, accompanied by escalators that rise directly to the tenth floor and the Sky Garden, where visitors can enjoy panoramic views of the city. Every level connects to department stores. Looking upward from the foot of the stairs, the steps themselves appear as giant electronic screens. Looking back down from the top, the staircase resembles a grandstand. Couples leaned against one another, unconcerned by the crowds flowing around them.

By this time, we were starving.

We immediately headed for the ramen district on the eighth floor to satisfy our hunger. We polished off every last drop of soup and every strand of noodle, yet still wanted more. I ordered an additional bowl of meat broth, which warmed both our stomachs. After dinner, we continued exploring the shopping complex until late at night before taking a taxi back to our hotel.

One thing we later noticed was that, whether male or female, the taxi drivers all seemed older than the two of us.

(To be continued)...