To promote tourism in the areas around Kyoto, the government launched four themes: Tea Kyoto, Bamboo Kyoto, Forest Kyoto, and Sea Kyoto.
After visiting matcha-scented Uji, our second stop on this Kyoto outskirts trip is Bamboo Kyoto’s “Take no Sato · Otsukuni” district.
You should know, Kyoto’s bamboo isn’t just that one little bamboo pathway in Arashiyama.
Take no Sato · Otsukuni Area
Take no Sato · Otsukuni is located in the lower-left corner of Kyoto and is made up of the three towns of 长冈京, 向日, and 大山崎. 长冈京, in Japanese history, was an important place. It served as Japan’s capital for nine years over 1,200 years ago. Its successor was the famous Heian-kyo, which became the original Kyoto.
Although it is technically suburban, from Kyoto’s Kawaramachi or Omiyajima Station, taking the Hankyu Kyoto Line gets you to 长冈京 in under 20 minutes. In the most generous estimate, it’s only about the distance from 龙阳路 to 陆家嘴.
Since this is Bamboo Kyoto, even the manhole covers naturally carry bamboo motifs.
They say, to admire bamboo, you should first admire the flowers, and the fuller bloom makes the quiet beauty stand out more clearly. That “someone,” of course, is me. So our first stop in 长冈京 was 长冈天满宫, a famous azalea spot.
长冈天满宫
From Hankyu Nagaoka Tenjin Station, it only takes a few minutes to reach Nagaoka Tenmangu. The shrine is dedicated to 菅原道真, the deity of scholarship worshiped by many in Japan.
Sugawara no Michizane was a major poet, scholar, and statesman of Japan’s Heian period. He was highly talented and held high office, but because political reform made him a target of envy and slander, he was exiled by the emperor to Dazaifu in Kyushu—a place sometimes jokingly described as one where even birds won’t lay eggs.
Unlike the very composed Su Shi, Michizane apparently didn’t take it so easily and did not throw himself into endless literary creation. He eventually died, said to have fallen into depression.
After he died, the imperial court was said to be in a state of unrest, and the emperor, fearing the consequences, built Kitano Tenmangu to venerate him. Over time, Michizane became part of Japan’s Tenjin faith. Because he was known for his learning, people began to worship him as the god of scholarship.
All of that said, the practical takeaway is: if you want top marks on exams, maybe come here and pray.
Passing through the torii, the sunlight was perfectly warm. The precincts of the shrine are especially vivid, and along the narrow approach path are azaleas said to be over 150 years old. Walking down the path, it feels like stepping onto a three-dimensional red carpet.
Inside the grounds there is a large pond, Hachigō Pond, where you can walk across the nine-curved bridge, sit in the pavilion by the water, and view the blazing azaleas from changing angles.
To me the azaleas are beautiful, but perhaps a little too vivid. If you want to see this kind of azalea spectacle too, make sure to come to 长冈京 in late April or early May.
The main hall and worship hall of the shrine sit on a hillside behind a small grove. The open space in front of that grove feels like a local people’s hangout. Watching a grandpa and grandma with a little granddaughter, I briefly felt as if I had been taken back to the countryside at home.
Climbing the steps, the main hall finally appears, tucked away in the hills.
At the entrance, as with many Tenmangu shrines, there is a bronze bull statue. Because Michizane is associated with the ox and he died in the year of the ox, the bull became a guardian presence here. You can touch the statue’s head and horns, then touch your own, and it is said to make you smarter. I have no idea why this bull is also wearing an apron.
There are also two large oxen here, perhaps the “parents” of that bronze one. Maybe little kids pet the small one and adults pet the big ones.
After offering sincere prayers at Tenmangu, I walked around the main hall. Up slightly to the left, there is a small torii for the enshrined 長冈稻荷大明神, which looks a lot like Fushimi Inari Taisha. Shinto shrines in Japan seem fond of this kind of relationship—building a small branch shrine of their own inside another shrine.
The area around Nagaoka Tenmangu has many old, lush maple trees. In the autumn, it would be a great place to enjoy maple leaves without the crowds. If you want to avoid the crowding of central Kyoto, this is a much calmer place for a walk.
Along the edge of Hachijō-ike there is also a row of water pavilions. I first assumed they were water temples or Buddhist halls. After checking, I learned they are actually Kin-suiten, a kaiseki restaurant founded in 1881. Sitting in one of those pavilions, watching either azaleas or maples and trying the place’s bamboo specialties—what a pleasure that would be.
I couldn’t help but get hungry and bite into my bread.
Stepping out of the Tenmangu, I turned back once more to the dense cluster of azaleas.
From a distance, it looked as if a bright red sash had been stitched around the pond.
光明寺
From Nagaoka Tenmangu, you can reach Kōmyōji by local bus fairly quickly, or walk about half an hour like I did while enjoying the spring weather.
Nagaokakyo has a long history. There are quite a few big and small temples along the way. Still, this part is quite remote, and with the broad stretches of fields, it feels like you’re walking along a rural path.
As expected in Bamboo Kyoto, shops and stalls selling bamboo shoots appear all over the place.
Kōmyōji is the head temple (honzan) of the Seizan branch of Jōdo-shū. A honzan is essentially the headquarters and original temple of a Buddhist school. Buddhist denominations are a bit like the saying “a thousand readers have a thousand Harry Potters.” If a master interprets the sutras differently and suddenly has enlightenment, he can found a new lineage to explain his view. Usually each master establishes a temple for that school, and later disciples spread the teaching widely and build corresponding branch temples.
Following the navigation, I didn’t end up entering through the front gate. Instead, I went in through a small overgrown path, climbed over a fence, and entered through the back gate. The dilapidated gatehouse made me briefly wonder whether, if this were the front gate, this temple had simply become long neglected.
Once I saw those two monks, I finally felt at ease.
Someone else was quietly sketching and painting.
Following their lead uphill, I reached the upper area, where the main temple buildings like Gokage-dō are located. I hadn’t looked into the history beforehand, so I had assumed it was just an unremarkable little temple.
After arriving, whether it was the architecture, the monks and worshippers passing through, or the careful setup for visitors, it was clear that Kōmyō-ji is a temple with lively offerings and a significant standing.
Kōmyō-ji was founded by Kumagai Jirō Naozumi, a disciple of the Jōdo-sect founder Hōnen Shōnin. The temple also preserves related objects such as Hōnen’s stone sarcophagus and statues.
Adorable, heartwarming child Jizō figures. Many temples in Japan have such small statues near your feet, and many Japanese believe these Jizō protect people and keep life peaceful. It’s somewhat like our Earth God statues at home.
Only after the explanation did I learn that during autumn foliage season, Kōmyō-ji is one of Kyoto’s top maple-viewing spots. Looking at the lush, vivid green maples now, you can only imagine how enchanting that maple-lined path must be in the fall.
Walking out the back of the main gate, Kōmyō-ji’s approach is a long uphill stone road, lined with gravestones of enlightened masters on both sides. From the highest point of the approach, you can glimpse Nagaokakyō from above, with everything tinted green.
Kōmyō-ji was truly a pleasant surprise, and I highly recommend coming here for a different vibe and some quiet.
Bamboo Path
We had walked so long it seemed we hadn’t seen a single bamboo stalk. The best part was saved for last. From the gate of Kōmyō-ji, walking north for about 45 minutes brought us to Rokusai Bamboo Forest Park. The entire route had lovely rural scenery.
I hadn’t seen the bamboo forest yet, and I was almost startled by the bamboo products. As I kept walking, I looked up and almost blacked out when I saw those two people. Was this really for traffic safety, or did it increase the chance of accidents?
Kyoto was once called Rōyāng because when Heian-kyō was built, the left city was modeled after Chang’an and the right city after Rōyāng. Later, the left capital (Chang’an) gradually declined due to geography, so only the right capital remained, and Rōyāng became another nickname for Kyoto. As for Rokusai, it literally means “west of Kyoto.”
The western hills around Higashiōji are lush with bamboo, and the area is known as the source of Kyoto’s famous “Kyoto bamboo shoots.” That is why locals place special emphasis on developing bamboo resources.
Beyond its role as a scenic park, this place is more like a bamboo-culture center. At the Bamboo Information Hall, there is a detailed introduction to the long history of bamboo and a display of various excavated bamboo artifacts. Every summer, there are bamboo workshops you can do with kids, making things like bamboo spinning tops and bamboo flutes.
Compared with Arashiyama’s bamboo path, this one is far more serene. Walking through it, you’re accompanied only by sunlight filtering between the trees and bamboo shadows. Every so often you may even meet one or two farmers working and digging for shoots.
One of the most distinctive features of the Bamboo Path is the bamboo hedges between the bamboo grove and the walkway. Locals have deliberately woven bamboo into eight different patterned designs, running continuously for 1.8 kilometers.
For example, this is the kofun-style hedge. Because this section is in front of a fourth-century tomb, its form borrows that shape.
This section is called Teradō-gaki, named after Teradō-chō, a district in Higashiōji City.
The tall, upright green bamboo is elegant and plain, both tender and resilient, full of vitality. In the endless-beginning-to-end bamboo path, you can feel the old-time obsession with bamboo.
I couldn’t help but think: “Famous eastern capital, Rokusai, a beautiful place; unbuckle the saddle and pause before moving on. Walk ten li in the spring breeze, and all you see is endless green bamboo.”
As evening set in, I kept walking down the Bamboo Path until I reached East Hikarishi Station in Higashiōji City. Before heading back into Kyoto, you might stop in the nearby Gekishin shopping street and challenge your tolerance for spiciness at a nearby restaurant.
Travel Plan:
Compared with Tea Kyoto, Rokusai (Bamboo Kyoto), which is in Nagaokakyō and Higashiōji, is closer.
Taking the Hankyu Kyoto Line from Kawaramachi, it takes only about 15 minutes to reach Nagaokatenjin Station. On the return, it’s quicker to come back into Kyoto from Higashi-Hikarishi Station.
If you have the option to rent a bicycle in Nagaokakyō and cover the whole Bamboo Kyoto area, half a day should be enough.
You can refer to a sample itinerary:
- Kyoto Kawaramachi Station (10:30AM departure)-
- Nagaokatenjin Station (10:45AM)-
- Nagaokatenmangū Shrine (10:55AM arrival)-
- Kōmyō-ji (13:00PM)-
- Rokusai Bamboo Forest Park (15:00PM)-
- Bamboo Path (16:00PM)-
- East Hikarishi Station (17:00PM)
Cost:
- - Transportation: Round-trip on Hankyu Kyoto Line, 460 yen
- - Admission: All of the above spots are free
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