After our time in Tokyo, Ofer and I packed our bags and headed to the bullet train to take us to Kyoto, Japan. Once we found the right train (I’m embarrassed to admit how long that took) we took our assigned seats and prepared for the trip. The bullet train is more like a ground bound airplane. You have assigned seats, tray tables and stewardesses with tasty little treats walking up and down the center aisle.

What struck us once we started moving was that we hadn’t noticed a bell or any announcement to notify passengers of the train’s departure. But right on time the doors quietly closed and the train started down the tracks.

For the next 2.5 hours we watched the Japanese landscape whiz by. It was like Japanese Cliffs notes: we saw a hint of different terrains in short bursts complete with city streets, factories, distant mountains covered in bamboo forests and rice patties peppered with hats bobbing up and down tending the field. Every 20 minutes or so we would pass another bullet train going in the opposite direction. Without fail, every single time this would happen my heart would kick into double time. There was no way to see the train coming and when it did it shook our train with a powerful thud. Or at least that is my experience. Ofer got a kick out of the fact that it scared me EVERY SINGLE TIME.


Once situated in our Kyoto Hotel Ofer and I made dinner plans to go to a restaurant recommended by my Godfather John. It was in an area called Gion Corner. We took the subway there. Just like in Tokyo it was easily the cleanest subway Ofer and I have ever been in, instead of gum stuck to the floor and trash blowing by announcing the arrival of the next train it was like walking through the corridor of an expensive hotel that we can’t afford. We noticed and recalled from Tokyo that each time a train arrived or departed it played it’s own little tune. For the New Yorkers reading: an Uptown bound F train would have a different melody than a Downtown bound F train and an all together different melody than the E line so that commuters coming down stairs and escalators would know if it was in fact their train departing or arriving. It was all very adorable, it reminded me of the music-box melodies that would play whenever I would sneak into my sister’s room and try on her earrings (sorry Deb).

After getting lost in the Gion Corner area for about 20 minutes we finally found the restaurant that my Godfather John had recommended (we can’t take credit for finding it, the chef was kind enough to come downstairs to look for us). What followed for the next 2 hours was the most intricately planned meal we had in Japan. We sat down at the bar with our legs hanging traditionally down below and watched the two chefs as they prepared the meals. That night we had a mixture of traditional dishes and contemporary spins on old world Japanese cuisine. The meal included aged fish, sea urchin, tofu skin, the most delicious eggplant I have ever had, marinated egg yolk, and enough sake to drown us both. All together our guess was it had to have been at least 12 courses. If you are looking for a modern twist on traditional Japanese fare we absolutely recommend KAPPO Sakamoto Restaurant.

Ater the meal Ofer and I slowly waddled home. Our stomaches were so distended it looked as if we had swallowed his and her beach balls. There is no way to suck that in, ladies.

We walked around the streets admiring the old fashioned feel of the town intertwined with the modern Japanese world. We passed street performers and women dressed in the old fashioned garb complete with full white make-up and wooden shoes.

One street performing group impressed Ofer and I so much that we took a seat on the ground at the entrance to the subway to listen to 5 or 6 of their songs. The band was made up of the main singer and his guitar accompanist who backed him up with harmonies. It must have been the first time that I realized that I really didn’t need to understand the language in order to truly enjoy a performance. I had often complained to Ofer that I need to know the words to a song to really enjoy it including songs in other languages which explained why I had the most fun at the Billy Joel concerts rather than concerts of artists I had never heard about.

But this night was different. We heard their music as we were entering the subway I made him come back out to the street surface so we could continue to listen. I, of course, didn’t know the singer or the song but I was entranced. The singer’s commitment and passion to what he was singing was so refreshing. After years of living in NY and seeing broadway shows and feeling like the soundtrack fit by the emotion coming from the actors didn’t it was so nice to see a performer who was so in love with what he does.


During our week or so in Kyoto we saw as many pagodas, temples and open air markets as we could. We were getting better at ignoring the heat as best we could as we hiked deeper and deeper into ‘i have no idea where the subway is’ land. We managed to get caught in a few rain storms, attend a Japanese culture show, sat on some of the coolest toilets we had ever seen, went to the most decked out Karaoke establishment we had ever seen and even went on a few rides at Osaka’s Universal Studios.

By this point we were starting to feel comfortable with the fact that we could pretty much see above everyone’s heads, that it would take us three times as long to understand what someone is trying to say to us, and that McDonalds, something we never eat at home, would be our treat to remind us that America isn’t too far away.