When people recommended me to visit Kyoto, I used to nod enthusiastically and I smile a lot and try to tap into their excitement, but really it was all fake. Because how am I supposed to understand their love for a city I had never seen before? But, trusting that the surprising frequency of this incident must have an underlying cause, I decided to go and see by myself. However, thanks to my friend, who so far had been virtually holding my hand and guiding me through the distinct peculiarities of the Japanese culture, I felt prepared to attempt this adventure on my own. And failed miserably. It started at the airport, where while finding the right platform for my train thanks to my other dear friend google maps, I did not figure out what ticket to buy. Luckily, that was also the time I learned that locals in Kyoto spoke significant more English than their Tokyo counterparts, whose response at that time to me asking for the train station was just 'train, train' and decisively pointing down an escalator shaft. This time, they instructed me also that I would be able to buy the right ticket on board of the train. Pfeew.

The second issue materialized as soon as I set foot into a supermarket. This, obviously, was not the first time I went grocery shopping, but the first time that my friend wouldn't be there to translate and tell me which other random food items had fish sauce in it. They really put it in everything. Crisps? Tofu products? Patries? Soups and sauces? Sweets? So, I tried to make as many mental pictures of items that where fine to eat as a vegan and hoped it would be enough. Well, it wasn't. Constantly, I kept catching myself in the vain attempt to find an English ingredient list, or staring at Japanese writing as if they would make sense in my head if I just tried looking at them long enough. I gave up pretty quickly, reverted from a vegan to a vegetarian and hoped that my inner morals would forgive me this temporary lapse, considering all the new experiences I gained in tasting various unidentifiable sweets.

One incident should be mentioned in detail. I had finally learned the approximate form and shape of the typical Japanese sweet, the Mochi, whose main ingredients are sweet bean-paste in a rice-based wrap (although sometimes inverted) with different tastes and colours, when I got the chance to dine in a Buddhist-style restaurant, situated in a temple. These meals had been recommended to me before as being vegan/vegetarian, healthy and particularly delicious. And how excited was I, when they severed on a desert platter just one of those tasty treats I described before. Just that it was salty, no sweetness in it at all. Never had my mind and my taste buds been so much out of sync. It looked to good, and had it not been so similar to the sweet that I expected, it would have tasted also good, but like this it was just confusing.

Walking around in Kyoto, and I think this is its main attraction in the end, I felt at peace though. It was different from the futuristic utopia, with all of its perfection, that Tokyo is trying to present, where I always felt uneasy, almost afraid to step out of line. Here, people behaved more naturally, which was also mirrored in its architecture, mostly beautiful small wooden houses, hundred years old, leftover from a time when Kyoto was still the political centre of the country. And all these awesome Buddhist temples and Shinto shrines... However, I loved the most to just walk along their wide and shallow rivers, fed by the mountain springs surrounding the city in all directions and breeding grounds for so many different birds. And the Kyoto residents too seemed to enjoy this place a lot, running, cycling and picknicking on the river bank. Now, here I found the origin of the love that people have for this place.