From Guiyang to Wuhan to Wuxi, my social feed has been flooded with cherry blossoms lately.

It inevitably brought me back to this time last year, when I ended up stranded in Japan by pure chance—and got to see a completely different side of Kyoto.

I had assumed I’d be able to return to this ancient city this year, but that turned out to be wishful thinking. So instead, let me take you on a virtual trip to Kyoto for a little cloud-based cherry blossom viewing.

https://youtu.be/exf5Jb8BbgE

At the end of March, I hurried from Tokyo to Kyoto.
As soon as I arrived, I dropped my bags and went straight out to see the cherry blossoms.
Right outside the hostel were old-style Japanese storefronts in Gion-Shijo and rows of sakura trees.

At the time, Kyoto Prefecture had already entered a state of emergency.
There were only a handful of people along the Kamo River, and most wore worried expressions.

Only the optimists couldn’t resist the beautiful spring weather,
lying on the grass to enjoy the breeze and the sun.

I walked along Shijo Street toward Gion,

with clusters of cherry blossoms all along the way.

On Shirakawa Street, greedy pigeons pecked at fallen petals.

At Gion Shirakawa, the cherry branches drooped to the water’s surface.
With the slightest breeze,
tiny ripples spread across the stream.

On Tatsumi Bridge, usually packed with people,
only geiko hurried past in quick, delicate steps, off to destinations unknown.

Then I kept walking,
watching the Lake Biwa Canal flow into Okazaki,
its banks overflowing with Somei Yoshino cherry blossoms.

Following Jingu-michi, you eventually reach Heian Shrine.

The blossoms peeked lightly over the eaves, their colors looking like something out of a manga.

The shrine garden behind was lush and green.
Chieko from The Old Capital
must have seen cherry blossoms like these too.

“The red weeping cherry over there is stunning. It’s one of the famous cherry trees. Its branches droop like a willow’s, spreading outward as they hang.

As soon as Chieko entered the shrine garden, a fully blooming red weeping cherry came into view, as if flowers had bloomed in her heart as well. ‘Ah! Once again, I’ve caught Kyoto in spring.’
Yasunari Kawabata, The Old Capital”

There was also an exceptional weeping cherry tree at the shrine entrance.

Tired visitors sat around it to rest,

while children played beneath the blossoms.

I hopped on a city bus,
and along the Philosopher’s Path the crowds were thick and petals filled the air.

Cherry blossom petals fell into the water,
collecting into a pink little stream.

Little birds, was it you who ate all the flowers?

The Philosopher’s Path was named after

Kyoto University professor Kitaro Nishida,

who likely walked here too, looking at these same blossoms while pondering philosophical questions.

Back at the Kamo River, a friend and I remarked that
since the rise of international travel,
Kyoto during cherry blossom season probably hadn’t been this quiet in decades.

Even though cherry blossoms are becoming more common everywhere,
it somehow feels like when people talk about sakura, they’re really talking about Kyoto.
Maybe it’s not just the flowers themselves, but the character of the entire city.

Sitting by the river, I flipped through Junichiro Tanizaki’s The Makioka Sisters:

“If sea bream isn’t from Akashi, it won’t taste right; if the cherry blossoms aren’t in Kyoto, it’s hardly worth seeing them at all.”

The next morning, I opened the window
and saw a burst of pink amid the sea of green at neighboring Kennin-ji,
as if the solemn temple and the heavily made-up Gion had chosen to live side by side.

You could almost call it “ten thousand pink ribbons cascading down.”

If you want a view from above, head to Kodaiji, built by Toyotomi Hideyoshi for his principal wife.
The temple is set against the Higashiyama hills, and after climbing the stone steps,

you can look out over Kyoto from the broad platform before the gate,
not to mention the stunning rainbow dry landscape garden.

The Keage Incline is also one of Kyoto’s best-known cherry blossom spots.

Cherry trees in full bloom line the abandoned railway—softness and steel side by side.

A quick tip: Keage is also one of the earliest places to bloom,
so if you come a little late, all that’s left are petals scattered beside the tracks.

Sometimes you don’t even need to go looking.

Just walking down the street, you get flowers over the wall—

or rather, not “walls have ears,” but “walls have blossoms.”

As dusk fell, where should I go?

“I want to look out over Kyoto at dusk from Kiyomizu Temple. I want to see the western hills at sunset,” Chieko repeated several times.

Yasunari Kawabata, The Old Capital

Kiyomizu-dera and Ninenzaka were nearly empty.

As I walked, I kept thinking about one question: without tourists,

is Kyoto still the Kyoto everyone imagines?

Whose Kyoto is Kyoto, anyway?

If you arrive in Kyoto a little too late, don’t worry.

Ninna-ji has Omuro cherry blossoms, which bloom the latest.

In the past, many members of the Japanese imperial family entered the priesthood at Ninna-ji,

which is why the cherry blossoms here uniquely carry the “imperial” designation.

Unlike other cherry trees, Omuro cherry trees are very low-growing,

more like dense little groves. With more than 200 trees,
you don’t need a drone—just stand on tiptoe and you can see a sea of blossoms.

If you’ve had enough of the city, there’s a Randen station right outside the temple gate.

Ride the tram through a tunnel of cherry blossoms

to Sagano Arashiyama and Togetsukyo Bridge.

When I got hungry, I went to Hirokawa, where two years ago you had to wait three hours to get a table.
This time, I could just walk in,
which felt like one of those rare blessings hidden inside bad luck.

After seeing so many cherry blossoms, I finally began to understand their meaning: to seize beauty before it slips away, and to treasure everything we have right now.

So where did you go to see cherry blossoms this year?