Japan in Cherry Blossom Season
For many years I hesitated about going to Japan, but this year my company organized a group trip and I finally went.
With little prior knowledge about Japan, some who had returned said things were cheap, others said food was expensive, but everyone agreed it was clean everywhere and the scenery was beautiful.
Tokyo is modern Japan and should be the first stop to understand the country. But with limited time, our itinerary focused on Osaka, Kyoto, and Nara—places rich in culture where we could catch the cherry blossoms.
In November, round-trip airfare to Japan was only 2,900 yuan, cheaper than many popular domestic tourist destinations. The visa process was also extremely simple, which might be another reason people like to go.
Narita Airport wasn't crowded, and I was surprised by the modernity of the restrooms. The once-trendy electric toilet seats were found in all public places throughout this trip.
In November, Osaka was just entering autumn. There was no autumn wind outside, and air conditioning was available indoors. A light jacket was quite suitable. Our guide was a Chinese international student who had been in Japan for many years; the driver's Japanese was average, and his whole family had immigrated to Japan. The hotel was across from Shinsaibashi, making dining and shopping convenient. There weren't many people on the streets. At 10 a.m., the shops on both sides of Shinsaibashi had just opened, with few customers. At a convenience store, I bought Meiji milk and yogurt, as well as some unknown pastries for breakfast. The products were not much different from those in China. At lunchtime, office workers came out of their buildings to eat at nearby restaurants. I had traditional ramen at a small street-side shop; it tasted better than Ajisen's. In the evening, the streetlights came on, and Shinsaibashi became lively. Outside a drugstore, a Chinese clerk held a sign for discounts to attract tourists. Inside, most shoppers were Chinese, so you didn't need to know Japanese. Larger stores had long queues for checkout. The products people liked were mostly the same: masks, face masks, cosmetics, eye drops, medicines, food... I didn't even know if they were good, but I just followed the crowd and bought them, feeling like I got a deal. With bags and bundles, one shopping trip wasn't enough. Back at the hotel, we gathered together, and oh, there were things I hadn't seen before. So the next day, I'd get a friend to go restock. Every evening was happy and fulfilling. At night, we agreed to meet at a department store in the central area. The goods were a step up, the packaging bigger, and the prices much higher. There, you couldn't just grab whatever looked nice like at the drugstore. You had to patiently compare prices online, ask experienced friends, or take photos of items and prices for authorization. You couldn't be impulsive. You had to buy something to justify the trip, but what? That was the question. I had already spent some at the drugstore. After wandering around, I decided to buy a fitness watch, which was supposedly cheap. But after an awkward conversation with the clerk, he advised against it because it wouldn't work well in China. So I bought an ordinary Casio, but since it's the origin country, it was even more expensive than in the US, and the selection was limited—it was outdated. Buying a suitcase was also useful; otherwise, how would I store all those small items from the drugstore?
After buying all that, I went to the nearby Yoshinoya for dinner. The place was really small—only two staff and seven seats around a corner counter. People came in, saw how crowded it was, and many took their food to go. I ordered a set meal and waited for it. The chef took a pre-packaged soup base from the shelf with one hand, and placed a pot on the stove with the other. He added meat and vegetables, boiled them, then skillfully filled a bowl of rice. The order was done quickly, and the flavor was rich. I guess I was tired from shopping, so on the way back, I got lost even though it was a simple route. My phone was almost dead, and I couldn't remember which street I was staying on. Luckily, I always had a printed travel guide in my bag with the hotel address. I showed it to the elderly taxi driver. He put on his reading glasses, entered the address into his GPS under the dim cabin light, and the car turned around. I hadn't realized I had walked so far in the wrong direction. Finally, I saw the hotel's neon sign and felt relieved.
Osaka has many shrines; I accidentally walked into a nearby one early in the morning. Japanese people come to pray before work, so devout.
After about a two-hour drive, the tour bus took us to famous Nara. A group of deer smelled food and trotted over to greet us. You had to buy a ticket to go up Mount Wakakusa, but I don't know how the deer got there. On the flat meadow of the second slope, they still followed tourists lured by deer crackers. The highest peak, the third slope, was just a small hill, but it was the highest point in Nara. Tired from descending, I looked at the green grass and thought, why not slide down the shortcut? I tore open my plastic bag, used it as a sled, and happily slid down.
At the foot of the mountain was the famous Kasuga Taisha. It's one of many shrines in Japan, dedicated to the ancestral deity of the Fujiwara family. The pillars and beams were all bright red, with large curved eaves covered in a flat layer of black-brown branches resembling thatch—very visually striking. It happened to be a festival day, and Japanese families dressed in traditional kimono, accompanied by their children in similar attire, participated in the ceremony. Perhaps due to the restrictive clothing and the atmosphere, there were no unruly kids running around; everyone was polite. This added solemnity to the shrine. Leaving the main hall, I preferred the unnoticed brown shrine—unpainted wooden structure, same thatched roof, brown logs with geometric white walls, similar to the architecture of Xi'an's Huaqing Pool.
Exiting Kasuga Taisha, I found a museum, but it was closed that day. Wandering nearby, I suddenly saw a magnificent building—Todai-ji. Brown logs with geometric white walls felt familiar; actually, the geometric shapes were wooden strips arranged on white walls. From 710 to 794, Nara was Japan's capital, modeled after Chang'an and Luoyang of China's Tang Dynasty, called Heijo-kyo. It was the cradle of Japanese politics, culture, art, and crafts. The architectural styles were very similar but with unique features. Fortunately, Nara, an ancient capital, is well preserved, while few Tang Dynasty buildings remain in China. However, the all-wood structure couldn't escape fire. Todai-ji was rebuilt several times in history, but the architectural style was retained. Though not as magnificent as the Forbidden City's Hall of Supreme Harmony, it is taller, larger, and older. It is the world's largest wooden building, and the giant Buddha statue inside is a rare treasure, huge and exquisite.
Kyoto, adjacent to Nara, is also an ancient capital with even more concentrated temples. Tofuku-ji, To-ji, Yasaka Shrine, Nijo Castle, Kiyomizu-dera, and others are built here.
On the third day after arriving in Osaka, I originally planned a day trip to Arashiyama in Kyoto and then return to Osaka. But considering it would be a shame to leave Kyoto without seeing its most classic architecture, I parted ways with my companion at Arashiyama Station in the evening, booked a hotel near Kiyomizu-dera with convenient transportation on my phone, and took the subway straight to Kyoto.
There weren't many people on the subway. Children who had just finished baseball practice chatted excitedly with their friends. I had to change trains on the way to Kyoto; maybe it was a different subway company, so I had to buy another ticket. Because the route was unfamiliar, I felt a bit nervous—after all, it was evening, I didn't speak the language, and I wasn't sure if the hotel would be hard to find. Fortunately, it was much closer than marked on the map. No luggage, just a small bag—very minimalist. I checked in and entered the room at 9 p.m. I didn't expect such a large hotel in Gion, Kyoto. The 20-square-meter room even had a foot massager, and more thoughtfully, lotion in the bathroom solved the embarrassment of not having skincare products. Snacks replaced dinner; everything was simple. Lying in bed, I planned the next day's itinerary. Getting a kimono photoshoot was the highlight. Today in Arashiyama, I saw all kinds of women in kimono, thinking they were Japanese, but later realized it was another part of the tourist experience. On Taobao, I found a kimono rental in Kyoto with a package including makeup, hair accessories, and a photographer. I booked a shoot at 10 a.m. the next day. Since there were no buses nearby, I asked the front desk to mark a location at 7:30 a.m. and decided to walk. Kyoto's streets were not as bustling as Osaka's; it was quiet, with no tall buildings, and felt dim. At an intersection, I was drawn by a magnificent building. I checked the time—it was only 8 a.m.—so I deviated from my path and walked toward it. Not having done my homework, I saw a wooden sign reading "Yasaka Shrine" and thought the name was interesting. I climbed the high steps and found a spacious shrine with only a few people; the red buildings were still eye-catching. The shrine was more like a pavilion—a roof without walls, with white lanterns hanging all around under the eaves. No need to enter; just a walk around was enough to see it. Soon, I left the complex and followed a small path with red railings into the tranquil distance. Passing a pond and a small bridge, I saw a stone tablet for Maruyama Park. Perhaps it wasn't the most beautiful season; the plants in the park were already colorful in patches but not in full. Strolling out a small gate, I was suddenly dazzled by a magnificent dark brown wooden building standing on high steps—Chion-in. Like a miniature Todai-ji, it stunned me! Passing through the huge front gate—the largest temple gate in Japan, 24 meters high and 50 meters wide, also called the Sanmon, symbolizing the three teachings of Buddhist practice: emptiness, formlessness, and wishlessness—I felt even more fondness for this building because of the familiar Chinese characters on an architecture in a foreign land. Through the Sanmon, climbing up to Chion-in, a fragrance drew me into the courtyard, which was enclosed on three sides, forming a complete complex. Like a quadrangle, two main halls with side halls set against a small hill. Double-layered roofs with upturned eaves, brown wooden structure, white doors and windows. It reflected both Todai-ji and Kasuga Taisha. No one was around; it was utterly silent except for the leisurely chirping of birds. At that moment, I felt that my decision to stay an extra day in Kyoto was absolutely right!
Exiting Chion-in, I took a leisurely stroll through countless unknown streets. The architectural style was consistent—mostly two-story houses with courtyards. Earth-yellow walls with dark brown wooden fences, fallen leaves scattered on the bluestone paths, quickly swept away. Here and there were shrines of various sizes. You didn't need to enter; the streets themselves were beautiful. Stepping out of the alley into the main street felt like two different worlds—outside was noisy and bustling, inside peaceful and calm. Who would have thought that behind such ordinary streets lay hidden treasures?
The map led me past the Ceramics Museum. It was already past the appointment time, so I dared not linger and crossed the bridge. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't find the shop on the map. Afraid I had missed it, I went back and forth several times, searching all nearby stores still to no avail. Then the worst thing happened: my phone battery died. How terrifying! Without a phone, not only could I not find the shop, but even the way home was unknown. In a panic, I entered a shop that was open and found a Chinese employee. I told her the location, but she was unfamiliar with it. Helpless, I had to first charge my phone, then call the photographer. We walked back and forth along the main street several times without finding the shop. Thank goodness for the internet—through shared location, we finally found it. It was so difficult! After that, things were simple: choose a kimono, get makeup and hair done, then pick accessories and wear geta out. We took photos in the crowded Ninenzaka and Sannenzaka areas. Although these are famous scenic spots, they lacked the flavor of the streets I had visited in the morning. How important it is to have few people at scenic spots—so many beautiful views are drowned in crowds.
Following the crowd up the steps, I entered Kiyomizu-dera, a three-story red-roofed building listed as a World Cultural Heritage site. It is highly famous and a national treasure of Japan. Long steps lined with many shops—on the left mainly food, on the right mostly gift shops. The exquisite ceramics in the windows were tempting. I browsed from shop to shop; although many claimed to be homemade, most had similar products. One shop had a young Chinese clerk, so I bought his handmade Kyoto-yaki. It was already noon; the restaurant in the tourist area had reasonable prices and good taste. The family-run shop served me their signature set meal. On the way back, I saw a café full of people. I joined in, bought coffee, and sat on a bench outside, watching the moving scenery: elderly Japanese preferred kimono, middle-aged people dressed in fashion, and young people were casual and free. I checked the map and decided to walk to the subway station. It was far, so I walked and looked around, encountering an unknown shrine along the way. The subway from Kyoto to Osaka was convenient and affordable; after two transfers, I was back. This solo exploration was truly precious.
Arashiyama in Kyoto is famous for maple leaf viewing. The small streets were crowded with tourists. The shops along the roadside mostly sold drinks and small souvenirs. The fence of the small garden outside Tenryu-ji was a sight in itself; each fence post was designed differently. Though made of simple materials, the design was extremely thoughtful. I ignored the garden's buildings and flowers, focusing only on the unique hedge. In Arashiyama, I had a Japanese sukiyaki hotpot. Japanese food, like its architecture, is exquisite and memorable.
