A solitary winter's day in Kyoto

Snow fell steadily on the streets of Kyoto. Not ideal conditions for a day of exploring outdoor shrines but then again, when would I get another chance?

Bundled up and armed with a can of hot coffee from the vending machine, I fumbled off the wrong train and exchanged enough awkward hand gestures with locals to make my way out to the Fushimi Inari shrine.

At the giant orange gate, the eyes of stone foxes bored into my own. Would they let me pass?

I hesitated. It was completely empty. The snow was growing in intensity.

I looked to the fox again. “Pass,” I imagined it saying. I walked through the gate.

The shops were empty as I wandered. Had I accidentally taken the train to the past?

I saw two women exit the shrine. They were the last people I encountered.

I entered the path to the mountain. Thousands of orange gates etched with black characters seemed to stretch on to eternity. There were smaller shrines along the way and mysterious paths veering left or right into the forest. More fox statues, watching my every move. Where was I going? Was anybody out there? Each step I took seemed too loud. The air was laden with a thick blanket of respect and I feared to disturb it.

Curiousity led me to take a small, dirt path off into the woods. It was longer than I had guessed it would be and I and wondered where it was leading. I was cold and hungry. Daylight was fastly fading. I had a growing sense that if I took the wrong step, I might never come back.

“Meow meow meow!”

I stopped. I was in the woods. Was I losing my mind?

“Meow!” Above me, on a hill, was a white cat, snowflakes landing and disappearing into its fur.

The cat ran along in the trees and I followed it below on the path.

And there it was. An exit leading back to reality. A large crescent moon hung over the looming entrance gate and I was certain the fox statues must come alive when darkness falls and no one is watching.

On the bus ride home, I carefully prepared my change and dropped all of it on the floor. The entire bus of locals scrambled to deliver all of it back to me as quickly as possible. I looked each one in the eye and filled with true gratitude and respect I said, “Arigatou gozaimasu.”

I meant it.

Thank you.