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Looking for Buddhist temples? Kyoto must have more temples per capita than any other city in Japan. Really, you can’t go more than a couple of blocks without tripping over a Buddhist charging 500 yen to wander around his pagoda. But I can’t really begrudge them their little cottage industry, because the temples really are amazing, and worth every yen.
Kyoto was first settled in the 7th century, and for most of the period since, has served as the capital and home to the imperial family (the capital was moved to Tokyo in 1868). During WWII, Kyoto was spared from the allied bombing raids that decimated so much of Tokyo and other cities, so it’s a great place to see historical temples, manicured gardens, and the like.
Besides being aesthetically pleasing, plentiful, and full of Zen goodness, Buddhist temples in Japan are also great places to find cheap accommodations. Temple lodging (‘Shukubo’) costs just a fraction of what a business hotel will cost you, and you get the whole tatami-mat, sliding-wooden-door, Buddhist-breakfast treatment, which is all pretty cool.
 Nanzen-ji is an extensive complex of temples and gardens on the eastern side of Kyoto, at the foot of a small ridge of hills. The complex dates from the 13th century, when it served as an imperial villa for the Emperor. However, many of the buildings were destroyed in a fire and rebuilt during the 17th century. Its focal point (near the temple lodgings where we stayed) is the large Sanmon Gate with its massive pillars. Since the weather was so god-awful when we were touring the grounds, this is pretty much the only good shot I managed to capture. The rest of my pictures from Nanzen-ji look like they were taken by a drunken 3rd grader:
Awesome! If you’re curious, that’s a brick aqueduct that was built on the temple grounds as part of a 19th century modernization initiative. They must not have personal lawyers in Japan, because you can climb right up on top of the aqueduct and wander around.
 From Nanzen-ji you can follow the Path of Philosophy ('Tetsugaku-no-Michi'). Meandering along the path did inspire some philosophical discourse, mostly exploring why the sun would come out whenever we were indoors while it would start pouring every time we stepped outside. You can take the path all the way to the Ginkaku-ji Temple, otherwise known as the Silver Pavilion (although it’s not silver, so go figure). Besides a really nice garden, the Silver Pavilion features a huge pile of sculptured sand. You can insert your own giant sand pail joke here.
In the northern part of Kyoto you’ll find the famed Golden Temple (Kinkaku-ji), which is indeed Golden!  Hoorah! This beautiful temple is one of the few we visited without the accompaniment of rain, sleet, or snow flurry. In fact, directly above the temple hovered a mystical patch of clear blue sky. How’s that for some Buddhist mojo?
Not far from the Golden Temple is the Ryoan-ji temple, which features one of the pre-eminent examples of Japanese zen garden design dating from the 16th century. The dry-landscape style garden has 15 large rocks, only 14 of which are visible from any vantage point. Apparently, only when one reaches enlightenment will the 15th rock become visible. We stayed half an hour or so staring at them, but I guess that’s not enough time to reach true enlightenment. Even so, this was definitely one of the highlights of our whirlwind Kyoto tour. If you’re in the ‘hood there, don’t miss it.
 To shake things up a bit, we checked out one non-temple attraction in Kyoto: Nijo-jo Castle, built in 1603 for the first Tokugawa shogun, Ieyasu. (I should note that when Patrick and I reported our sightseeing adventures to Yukari, she seemed to dispute the appellation of "castle" in the case of Nijo-jo. She’s probably correct, as it doesn’t really have that traditional multi-storied castle look. I wonder if there’s a minister somewhere in Japan who’s in charge of deciding these things? Is there someone who issues official castle certificates or is it just an interpretative thing?) At any rate, visitors can tour inside the "castle" to see some great screen paintings that adorn all the internal chambers. By far the coolest feature is the "nightingale" wooden floors, which were designed to squeak in an appropriately high-pitched, sing-song manner to prevent intruders and mothers-in-law from sneaking around the building unnoticed.
 Wandering around the gardens, we briefly thought that we had spotted some elusive cherry blossoms in early bloom. Alas it was only some second rate plum blossoms, which no one cares about in the slightest.
Kyoto has a minimalist subway system that apparently doesn’t go anywhere you’d really want to visit. What they do have is an extensive bus system that goes everywhere very, very slowly. During our visit, I think we sampled just about every major bus line that crisscrosses the city center, and they all kinda sucked. You can hoof it fairly effortlessly between some central destinations; we walked from Nijo-jo to the Nishiki-koji Market in Central Kyoto. If you self-navigate, here’s a linguistic tip: dori means "street". As in:
PMK: "Hey, what's the name of that street up there?"
Me: "I dunno. It’s something 'dori'."
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verbal