City travel guide #1: Kyoto's wonders

With my favourite addresses

It's 8 a.m., and I find myself seated at the counter of Kikushin Coffee, a diminutive café tucked away in one of Gion's narrow backstreets. Beside me, a young Japanese regular in a navy blue Yankees cap enjoys his breakfast: thick toast generously spread with melted butter and honey. A radio fills the air with melodies from an 80s-era Sony cassette player — a relic of Japan's technological heyday. My coffee is being prepared, and I am transfixed. The owner orchestrates each movement with precision; whether slicing bread, activating his compact oven, or pouring boiling water, every action is deliberate. It all evokes the meditative simplicity of Wim Wenders' film Perfect Days.

80s mood, buttered toast, and filter coffee — Kikushin is the ultimate Japanese coffee shop

I arrived in Kyoto ten days ago, first renting a room in a machiya* in Gion before settling into a small house by the river, where sakura bloom along the embankment. I've visited Japan before, but always in haste. This trip is different: I am taking my time, endeavouring, with varying degrees of success, to live like a local. The weather has been unusually mild, and the city, with its cultural emphasis on patience and restraint, feels like the perfect place to commence this journey. I aim to experience the Japanese aesthetic of impermanence, whether in a garden temple, a tea ceremony, or a visit to one of Kyoto's exquisite concept stores.

At an exhibition in a small gallery in modern Kyoto, I meet Tetsuya Kobayashi, a ceramist whose Instagram account is a veritable destination for enthusiasts of contemporary Japanese pottery. Formerly a photo retoucher, he left the photography industry to study glazes and clay at the Seto Ceramics School. Dressed in black and dark blue, Tetsuya discusses his approach, which includes the kohiki technique — a dark clay body covered with a white slip and a translucent glaze that yields a wabi-sabi* finish. I inquire about the distinctive qualities of Japanese ceramics.

‘I believe that imperfection, roughness, and colour are influenced by the Japanese spirit and environment,’ he tells me. ‘Historically, beliefs in animism and the blending of interior and exterior spaces in Japanese architecture allowed people to naturally accept imperfect forms, rough textures, and natural colours from their surroundings. Pottery itself may also embody a kind of spiritual essence.’

Tetsuya Kobayashi is inspired by the techniques of traditional Japanese pottery

This spirituality, interwoven into the fabric of daily life, is perhaps what makes Japan so enigmatically attractive to foreigners. It's not a fleeting indulgence but a seamless part of existence, residing in the comfort of routine — a beautifully wrapped purchase, the perfect opening of a tea caddy, the impeccable movements of Kikushin’s owner, the textural pleasure of holding one of Tetsuya's ceramics.

‘I aim to create pieces that transcend their functional role as tools to evoke emotional and behavioural responses,’ Tetsuya adds.

I am reminded of the two small ceramic bowls I brought back from Kyoto during my last trip. Their uneven shape, so pleasurable to hold, and the careful balance of the tea ritual they implied helped me regain a sense of serenity during a challenging time last year.

This sense of serenity is also profoundly felt when visiting the enchanting house of ceramist Kawai Kanjiro — probably one of my favourite spots in Kyoto, as visiting temples has become increasingly complicated. Tourism in Japan has risen dramatically in the past two years, and visits to Kinkaku-ji are as inspiring as those to the Eiffel Tower. It remains a visual wonder, but the queue, the crowd, and the selfies detract from a significant part of the experience. There are ways to mitigate this somewhat, such as visiting the smaller temples.

Serenity, found: the house of ceramist Kawai Kanjiro

My friend Chinlin, who knows the city well, advised that I visit the Saiho-ji temple, which is further away. Visitors are asked to copy a sutra before entering, which discourages tourists and contributes to the place's peacefulness.

But I end up forgoing that endeavour, preferring to try another of her suggestions: a tea ceremony at Kyo Amahare, a gorgeous concept store and gallery. The tea ceremony takes place in a dimly lit room at the back of the building. It's a divine ritual. Tea master Suguru Tokubuchi, who curates the tea selection, emphasises nature and the quiet, rhythmic presence of rain — not just as a sound, but as a mood that seeps into the entire ceremony.

The ultimate tea ceremony at Kyo Amahare

Each day is filled with moments of mindfulness, simplicity, and appreciation for the present — whether it's a public bath, a walk in nature at Arashiyama, or enjoying fabulous ramen in one of Kyoto’s most sought-after eateries.

There are also some beautiful fashion and concept stores that are almost impossible to spot from the street. Japanese fashion provides a welcome respite from the Western world of luxury. It is, in fact, a lesson in refinement and discretion. Luxury is experienced in the warmth of an impeccable welcome, the zen beauty of the stores, and the honestly crafted, high-quality garments made in Japan.

Kyoto’s most exclusive concept store

Below is a curated guide to temples, galleries, concept and fashion stores, restaurants, coffee and tea shops, walks, and places to stay. I’ve visited most of them myself; others come recommended by locals and trusted friends who know Kyoto well. You won’t find the obvious spots here — those are in every guide. Still, if it’s your first time, the well-known temples are worth seeing, crowds and all. An evening walk through Gion remains magical, and cycling along the Philosopher’s Path is still one of the best ways to feel the city.

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Art and temples

Gion by night

The House of Kawai Kanjiro

A quiet must-see in Kyoto. The home of the famed potter feels less like a museum and more like a lived-in poem. Traditional Japanese design runs throughout — tatami rooms, wooden beams, paper screens — but there is a subtle openness, a quiet dialogue with modernity. The Western influences are there, though you may not spot them right away. Light floods the open-plan rooms. A cat might be sleeping in the courtyard. His kilns remain, massive and ghostly. His ceramics, delicate and deeply modern, are placed here and there, as if waiting to be used.

The Museum of Arts and Crafts

A thoughtful introduction to Kyoto’s long-standing devotion to craftsmanship. The museum is compact and easy to navigate, offering a good overview of the city’s artistic heritage. I was especially drawn to the layered complexity of lacquerware and the incredible precision of kimono fabric weaving.

Komyo-in Temple

A quieter alternative to its more visited counterparts. The temple’s garden is spare and harmonious, and there is a small tea house where you can sit with a bowl of matcha and a sweet, overlooking a perfectly composed zen garden.

Otagi Nenbutsu-ji

My friend Seiko, who works in a local publishing house and guides part-time, recommended this temple as an alternative to the more crowded spots in Arashiyama. Tucked slightly away from the tourist path, Otagi Nenbutsu-ji is known for its remarkable collection of over 1,200 stone statues of rakan — disciples of the Buddha. Each figure has its own expression, from serene to playful, almost mischievous. Strange, funny, moving, and very human.

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Shopping and beyond

Tranquillity and reflection, a serene tsubo-niwa* designed by Taiga Takahashi

Some of Kyoto’s most compelling shopping spots blur the lines between store, gallery, and experience — combining contemporary design with ceramics, vinyl, coffee, and the occasional tea ceremony. These concept spaces aren’t always easy to find, but worth seeking out. Below is a personal curation of the best I came across.