I feel the need to come clean here by admitting that my latest adventure in the Land of the Rising Sun was not all sea-faring officialdom. No, indeed, I was rewarded for my week afloat with the US Navy by a good long week of dorking out in the historically overwhelming, terribly interesting city of Kyoto. And I like to think I made good use of said time.

I had a nebulous recollection of Kyoto from my first visit there 10 years ago, but I must admit with embarrassment that the only sites I truly recall seeing at the time were the major temple complexes of Kiyomizu-dera and Kinkaku-ji (look ‘em up if you care). In fact, I think the main reason for my own and my tour groups’ being there was to shop for chatchkies that we could ill afford and that we now turn over in our hands wondering just what significance we should attach to said mementos. My primary concern in returning to Kyoto was to do the former capital of Imperial Japan greater justice, and so I did, with a rough count of seven temples, five castles, and two museums along with absorbing the streets during wide-ranging perambulations.

I do not want to suggest that I believe having seen a slew of World Heritage sites means that I know everything about Japan, but I do at least have some greater idea about Kyoto itself. Indeed, a bit 'o history I picked up while there: Kyoto, like Rome, was built amidst seven hills and was the seat of the Imperial Court from some time around AD 800 until Tokyo became the capital in the late 19th century. As for modern times, well, Kyoto has all the hallmarks of a major Japanese metropolitan area whose typically efficient metro whisks flocks upon flocks of people through their unfathomably fashionable days. One of the things that entertained me the most was that my firmly 21st century hotel room looked right into the moats of a 1603 castle.

But enough of the PBS travelogue for you.

What did I really set out to find in Kyoto?

Food and sleep and useless trivia. I found a favorite café for toast and coffee at breakfast. I got to eat every food I had set out to find, including Okonomiyaki, Udon, Unagi, and plenty of sushi. I slept in a bed that did not roll with the waves and got to walk the city streets until my little heart was content. I accosted many a cab driver and docent to ask dorky questions and learned more than any decent person should know about the ancient Japanese mania of building important structures in wood, knowing that fire was going to destroy them and cause unceasing rebuilding efforts.

Touring began slowly as we spent a good few hours exploring the buildings and gardens of Nijo Castle, making its ingenious nightingale floors sing out as our attempts to play ninja-sneaking-up-on-the-Shogun failed miserably. From there, we braved the cool January wind day after day to intrepidly visit Gold-plated temples, giant Buddha’s, winter calmed rivers, preening monkeys, cookie-eating deer, the Geisha quarter, and a hidden stone in the Buddha’s womb where one gains enlightenment-- I am still not certain that I properly performed the requisite rites because Enlightenment has not been forthcoming as far as I can tell.

And what did Japan take from us?

We left behind us a wave of middle school kids whose assignment for their school trip to Kyoto was evidently to accost as many English speakers as possible in order to practice their Anglophonic prowess upon them. Actually, I have to admit that I often wandered off when I noted the gaggles of pre-teens approaching us. I either refused to speak English and spoke only to them in Japanese or pretended to be French, thereby defeating them in the coup they meant to count in talking to two Americans at once. I also giggled (albeit a little maliciously) upon watching some school kids harass an Italian couple who seemed slightly mystified by this manic search for English. Though they tried to participate with good grace, the kids seemed more interested in us.

In the end, my traveling companion mercifully forbore my nerdiness as she, too, is an unabashed dork that liked the fact that I could play travel guide and interpreter for her. As far as I can tell, her only complaint was that my meandering around the immense area that Kyoto covers often came with reassurances of “We’re close…I think.” In fact, she began to ask whether or not my plan really had been to kill her by taking her on a daily Bataan Death March. She came back in one piece; there was no death by pedestrian overexertion.

So, Kyoto and its neighborhoods proved a well-deserved respite and long-awaited treat to my nomadic soul. Only a week was not enough, but it had to suffice to fortify me through the next two weeks, which would prove far more trying in their emulation of summer camp on steroids… More on that next time...