On our final day in Kyoto, my daughter Chhavi and I were determined to soak in every last moment. The city had already offered us so many beautiful memories, but we still had a few special places left to visit.
We started the morning with a bit of cultural flair—Chhavi wore a lovely kimono, and I draped myself in a sari. All dressed up, we walked up to Nishiki Market, just a short distance from our hotel, and took some photos to capture the charm of Kyoto’s streets. It felt like a gentle merging of our heritage with the place we were visiting, something we both enjoyed deeply.
After lunch, we made our way to Kiyomizu-dera, one of the few spots still on our list. I rarely take taxis while traveling, but this time I indulged for the sake of time and comfort. The temple was stunning, as expected, but it was the crowd that struck me. The lanes leading to the shrine were packed, shoulder to shoulder, literally. We were rubbing elbows with people, maneuvering through the narrow alleys, past shops bursting with visitors. It was vibrant, but a bit surprising. Don’t get me wrong, I live in India and I know what crowded is, but for Japan it was a little surprising.
By the time we returned to our hotel, again by taxi, it was already late. This was our last night in Kyoto, and one thing still tugged at me: I hadn’t been to Fushimi Inari. I turned to Chhavi and said, “The shrine is open 24 hours—let’s go now.” She agreed without hesitation, and off we went, into the Kyoto night.
The moment we arrived, by metro this time, the contrast was striking. There were maybe fifty people in sight, scattered around in that vast space. After the hustle of Kiyomizu-dera, this quietude felt almost surreal. The iconic red torii gates stretched ahead, empty and glowing softly in the dim light. I could take photos without anyone in the frame, a rare gift in a place so famous.
As we walked from the towering gates toward the well-lit footpaths, we arrived at the Prayer Hall. It looked absolutely breathtaking in the moonlight, bathed in a soft, silver glow. From there, we continued our way toward the famed Inari path, the beginning of the 10,000 torii gates.
We didn’t complete the full walk, it was late, and we wanted to return at a reasonable hour. But even that partial journey, surrounded by silence, shadow, and the rhythmic repetition of those sacred gates, felt like stepping into a dream. The solitude, the sheer beauty of it, and the quiet footsteps of the few others walking beside us created a magical atmosphere.
After spending about an hour at the shrine, we began heading back to the metro station. But, as travel stories often go, a little mix-up led us onto the wrong train. I noticed something was off when the station names didn’t line up with the Google Map. We got off at one point, and as luck would have it, we could see Kyoto Tower in the distance. It was a comforting landmark, central and not too far from our hotel, so we decided to take a taxi once again. Soon enough, we were back at the hotel, safe and smiling at our little nighttime detour.
The next morning, we boarded the shinkansen, the bullet train, heading back to Tokyo. But that quiet, moonlit walk through Fushimi Inari stayed with us. It was the perfect goodbye to Kyoto: peaceful, spontaneous, and unforgettable. Next time I will deliberately choose to visit Fushimi Inari at night for the relaxed experience.
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