落葉 (rakuyo): Fallen Leaves.

I realized that in my busyness I have neglected to write about the stunning Kyoto Autumn. That’s a shame. Now that I’m chillin on winter vacation, allow me to fill you in.

This was my first true autumn experience, and Kyoto has proven to be a great place for firsts. It was out of this world beautiful.

Around late October the punishing summer heat finally began to give way as we anticipated the promised beauty of autumn. Those days of warm but cooler weather were a short-lived delight. Within a matter of two weeks, the constant sweat on my skin was replaced with goose-bumps. But I didn’t mind too much, because something magical was stirring in the city. In early November, some new colors began to dot the scenery. It was a subtle change, like a slight blemish in the surrounding mountains. Slowly but surely, many of Kyoto’s trees began to transform into a mirage of green, yellow, orange, and red.

“Just wait,” I was told as I was getting giddy over the yellow-orange leaves of the front-runners. “Just wait for the maple leaves.” The autumn beauty of most of Kyoto’s tress is short-lived, but thankfully they tend to take turns in different places across the city. Every weekend I was on my bike exploring a new part of the city to marvel at the beauty of the leaves.

Many of the city’s more famous temples also have night light-up festivals, where wide-eyed crowds can soak in the brilliantly lit leaves. I was fortunate to hit two of the best light-ups in the city: Kiyomizu and Daigoji. Oh I wish my iPhone camera could attest to the stunning beauty. 

 

The grand-finale is always a peak weekend or two in the end of November, when a majority of the maple leaves are in full glory. Like fire on dry kindling, the maple trees erupt into a brilliant red in a matter of days. I caught word of a temple called Eikando with legendary koyo (autumn leaves), so on the Saturday after Thanksgiving I biked across a mountain pass into Northeastern Kyoto city to see for myself. It was unreal.

I felt like I was walking through a fairytale. Never before had I seen such naturally brilliant colors. I often complain about how I wish my camera could accurately capture the beauty of what I was seeing, but here I felt like my own eyes couldn’t even do that. It was beyond words.

After losing track of time in the magic of the leaves, I finally hopped back on my bike and floated home with a feeling like I had just witnessed something supernatural.

 

Then there’s the fall: 落葉 Rakuyo.

After that peak weekend came the wind and the rain, and the beauty in the air was now scattered all over the ground. Mossy grounds donned a new coat, peaceful garden ponds became floating displays of color, and even ordinary sidewalks became beautiful mirages that would flourish in the wake of passing bicycles.

Now it’s late December. The naked trees seem to shiver in the bitter wind without the shelter of the coats they had shed, and the beautiful leaves that only weeks ago had coated everything are now brown and crunchy. And it’s cold. Really cold. Like the trees, the people in the city are locking in for a long winter. But also like the trees, we are anticipating what is to come next: sakura season. Until then, it’s time to enjoy a new season for me – real winter – and all its new adventures that are to be found.