Fushimi Inari-taisha & Kyoto

I’ve visited Kyoto several times, and each trip reveals something new—like the city is quietly waiting to share its secrets one layer at a time.

On a recent journey to walk the Nakahechi route of the Kumano Kodo, I carved out a side trip to Kyoto. I flew into Kansai International Airport, and what I learned about it completely floored me. The airport is built on a massive man-made island—7 kilometers long and 4 kilometers wide—and it actually sinks a little each year. That fact alone sent me down a rabbit hole of curiosity. I discovered that the terminal building is supported by hydraulic pillars, which engineers adjust periodically to keep the structure level and stable. It’s a marvel of modern engineering, quietly defying nature while welcoming travelers into Japan.

Jumping aboard the sleek Haruka Express, I was whisked away toward Kyoto—a journey that took just under an hour and a half.

A cutely arranged meal—each dish like a miniature work of art—and a glass of smooth sake later, I found myself slowly unwinding. I was ready to embrace the adventures the next day had in store.

From Karasuma, I set off on foot toward Fushimi Inari-taisha—a 6-kilometer walk that promised both movement and meditation. The route wound through quiet neighborhoods and bustling streets, offering glimpses of daily Kyoto life beyond the tourist trail. Just over an hour later, I arrived at the base of the shrine, where the first torii gate stood like a portal to another world. The vermilion archway marked the beginning of something timeless, and I paused for a moment, soaking in the energy before stepping into the sacred path.

Wading through the sea of visitors at this breathtaking temple and torii complex, I found myself drawn not just to the iconic gates, but to the foxes—those mysterious stone guardians of Fushimi Inari-taisha. Perched with quiet dignity, each fox statue held a symbolic item in its mouth—a key, a scroll, a jewel—each one a silent sentinel of the sacred. They seemed to watch over the shrine with calm, adding a layer of mystique to an already enchanting place.

They say there are 10,000 torii gates at Fushimi Inari-taisha—probably an exaggeration, but when you're standing among them, it feels entirely believable. The gates are stacked so tightly together that they form a vivid, winding tunnel of vermilion, stretching up the mountain like a ribbon of devotion. It’s a sight that stops you in your tracks—visually stunning, spiritually charged, and irresistibly photogenic. Visitors from all over the world pause to pose, snap selfies, or simply stand in awe, trying to capture the magic of a place that feels both ancient and alive.

Ever the explorer, I couldn’t resist the call of the mountain path that winds beyond the main shrine. As I continued upward along Mount Inari, the crowds thinned and the forest deepened. The bamboo here was unlike any I’d seen—towering stalks of old-growth, their trunks thick and timeworn, forming a dense green canopy that filtered the light into a soft, otherworldly glow. Nestled quietly along the trail was Fushimi Kandakara Shrine, a serene Shinto sanctuary dedicated to Amaterasu Omikami.

After returning to admire the main shrine in all its glory—its sweeping roofs, intricate carvings—I felt my stomach reminding me it was time to refuel. The area around Fushimi Inari-taisha is a food lover’s playground. Both sides of the monument are lined with stalls and eateries, each offering something tempting: sizzling yakitori skewers, freshly grilled mochi, savory kitsune udon (named after the shrine’s fox spirits), and sweet treats like taiyaki filled with red bean paste. The scent of soy sauce and charcoal drifted through the air, guiding me like a compass toward my next indulgence.

After savoring a comforting bowl of soba noodles with crisp tempura and a few pieces of delicate sushi, I hopped on a train bound for Karasuma.

I was greeted by the luminous beacon of the Kyoto Tower—standing tall like a futuristic lighthouse in a sea of tradition. Its glow cast a soft shimmer over the streets below, a quiet reminder that Kyoto, for all its ancient beauty, still embraces the modern with grace. The sight felt like a gentle welcome back, wrapping the day’s adventures in a warm, urban glow.

As I walked back to my hotel, I passed the stately Nishi Honganji Temple, its wooden halls glowing under the soft evening light, a testament to centuries of devotion. Just a little further, the Goei-do-mon Gate of Higashi Hongan-ji Temple rose like a solemn guardian—ornate, imposing, and beautifully preserved. And then, I glimpsed the Ninomaru Palace, nestled within the grounds of Nijō Castle. A National Treasure of Japan, its elegant shoin-zukuri architecture and storied “nightingale floors” whispered of shoguns and secrets.

The next ten days promised a blend of nature and culture—first, the soul-stirring hike along the Ohechi and Nakahechi routes of the Kumano Kodo, followed by a journey to the elegant city of Kanazawa.

But before that adventure began, I had the rare fortune of securing a reservation at Moko, a Michelin one-star gem tucked away in Kyoto. The restaurant is the brainchild of a French chef who relocated to Japan during the pandemic, channeling his passion into a space that now gleams with culinary acclaim.

The food was nothing short of exquisite—each dish a delicate balance of French technique and Japanese sensibility. From the open kitchen, the chef was warm and engaging, sharing stories and insights as he plated with precision. It felt less like dining and more like being part of a quiet performance, where every bite told a story.

Kyoto is always a place I love to visit—and I know I’ll keep returning for years to come. With centuries of tradition woven into every temple and alleyway, and a culinary scene that balances elegance with comfort, it’s a city that never stops revealing itself. The mountains, the vistas, the quiet shrines tucked between bustling streets—all of it feels timeless. No number of visits is ever enough. Each time I leave, I carry a little more of Kyoto with me, and each time I return, it feels like coming home to something ancient, beautiful, and endlessly inspiring.