If you go to Kyoto during the first week of April, you are making a massive mistake. I know, I know. The photos of the pink blossoms over the philosopher’s path look like a dream, but the reality is more like being trapped in a slow-moving, polite riot. You aren’t looking at flowers; you’re looking at the back of a stranger’s head while someone accidentally pokes you with a selfie stick. It’s exhausting.
The cherry blossom lie
I’ve been to Kyoto seven times now. The first time was in 2014, right at the peak of sakura season. I thought I was being smart. I wasn’t. I spent 45 minutes waiting for a bus that was too full to board, and when I finally got to Kiyomizu-dera, I couldn’t even see the floor. What I mean is—actually, let me put it differently. You lose the ‘Zen’ the city is famous for when you’re breathing in the collective sweat of ten thousand other tourists. It’s a logistical nightmare that people pretend is magical because they paid $4,000 for the flights.
I might be wrong about this, but I genuinely think the flowers aren’t even the best part of the city. The moss is better. The smell of old cedar is better. You can’t experience any of that when the city is at 110% capacity.
The best time to visit Kyoto is whenever the Instagram influencers aren’t there. Usually, that means February or late June.
The summer heat will break you
Kyoto is built in a basin. This is a geographical fact that results in a specific kind of atmospheric misery from July to August. The air doesn’t move. It just sits there, thick and heavy, like a wet wool blanket someone pulled out of a microwave. I remember a Tuesday in July 2018. I was trying to be ‘authentic’ and walk from Gion to Nanzen-ji. By 11:30 AM, I was sitting on the floor of a 7-Eleven, pressing a frozen bottle of Pocari Sweat against my neck, literally vibrating from heat exhaustion. I felt pathetic. I looked pathetic. My shirt was a different color from the sweat.
Avoid August at all costs.
Anyway, speaking of 7-Eleven, I’m convinced their egg sandwiches are better than 80% of the overpriced kaiseki meals in Pontocho. People pay 15,000 yen for a meal where they feel awkward and underdressed, when they could be eating a 300-yen sandwich in a park. But I digress. The point is, don’t go when it’s hot. You won’t see the temples; you’ll just see the inside of air-conditioned pharmacies while you hunt for cooling wipes.
My data-backed (sort of) recommendation
I started tracking my ‘frustration levels’ vs. the month of the year. I looked back at my credit card statements and my step counts from various trips. In April, I averaged 14,000 steps but only visited 2 sites a day because of the crowds. In late February, I hit 22,000 steps and saw 5 sites, including places like Honen-in where I was literally the only person in the courtyard.
- Late January to February: It’s freezing. Like, a cold knife in your lungs kind of cold. But the light is crisp, the plum blossoms are starting, and the city feels like it belongs to itself again.
- Early June: It’s the rainy season. Everyone stays away. But the gardens are neon green and the sound of rain on a wooden temple roof is the only reason to travel, in my opinion.
- Early December: The autumn colors are mostly gone, but the crisp air remains. The crowds have vanished back to Tokyo or Osaka.
I used to think October was the sweet spot. I was completely wrong. It’s just ‘Sakura-lite’ now in terms of crowds. Everyone figured it out.
The Arashiyama problem
I’m going to say something that will probably get me some hate mail, but I genuinely despise Arashiyama. I refuse to recommend it to my friends. The bamboo grove is a 200-meter stretch of path that takes 40 minutes to walk because of the human traffic jam. It’s the Times Square of Kyoto. If you go there in November, you aren’t experiencing nature; you’re experiencing a theme park without the rides. It’s the one part of the city that feels totally hollow to me.
I’d much rather spend a Tuesday morning in the Daitoku-ji complex. It’s quiet. It’s real. It doesn’t care if you take a photo of it or not.
Total waste of time.
Just go when it’s cold
There is something about Kyoto in the winter that feels right. The monks are wearing those heavy cloaks, the steam is rising from the ramen shops, and you can actually hear your own footsteps on the stone paths. It’s lonely, but in a good way. The kind of way that makes you actually think about your life instead of just thinking about where to get the best angle for a photo.
I don’t know if I’ll ever go back in the spring. Maybe when I’m older and I don’t mind standing in lines for three hours. But for now? Give me the grey skies and the empty temples of February any day.
Is it weird that I prefer the city when it’s slightly miserable for everyone else? Maybe. But that’s when it’s most beautiful to me.
