Kyoto Day 2 unfolded through a series of impromptu decisions—unplanned, slightly messy, and unexpectedly rewarding.

The idea to visit Ninna-ji Temple (仁和寺) only came the night before. While browsing maps, I came across photos shared by visitors—cherry blossoms in full bloom within the temple grounds. It felt like an opportunity not to be missed: a Buddhist sanctuary immersed in sakura.
Getting there, however, didn’t go quite as planned.
We missed our stop and had to scramble to get off at the next station. For a brief moment, there was that familiar sense of frustration—the mind wanting things to go according to plan. But we chose to take it in stride, pulling out Google Maps and figuring out a new route from this unplanned stop.

That small detour turned into a quiet gift. Just a short walk away, we discovered a quaint little station and ended up boarding a charming tram that brought us toward the temple. It was one of those moments where things didn’t go right—but somehow turned out better.

Inside Ninna-ji Temple, the reward was immediate. A garden of sakura in full bloom stretched across the grounds, soft pink against the temple’s traditional architecture. There was even a viewing platform where you could take in the treetops, with a pagoda rising gently in the background.
It felt serene, almost dreamlike.

The entrance fee was more than worth it. Beyond the cherry blossoms, other seasonal flowers were also in bloom, quietly adding depth to the landscape.

Lunch, like the morning, was unplanned. We searched for nearby options and found a soba restaurant just opposite the temple—only to realize upon arrival that it accepted cash only.
So we turned back.

On the way, we stumbled upon another small noodle shop, Menya Kagari Kyoto (篝). It turned out to be a happy accident. For the first time, I tried noodles served in a cold broth—light, refreshing, and unexpectedly satisfying. The dashi base carried a delicate umami flavor, lifted by a hint of citrus. It was simple, but memorable.
Moments like these made something clear: not everything needs to be planned.
Sometimes, it’s enough to move with the current—to allow space for small surprises to appear.
In a way, it echoed the teaching of non-attachment. When we loosen our grip on how things should go, the experience often becomes lighter, more open.

The afternoon continued with a visit to Okazaki Shrine (岡﨑神社), known for its many rabbit figurines—playful and charming, a lovely stop for photos.

From there, we made our way to Konkai Komyo-ji Temple (金戒光明寺), a temple of the Pure Land school. Along the way, we passed a quiet Buddhist cemetery, where I had come to see a unique stone monument—a statue of Amitabha Buddha that has gained attention for its unusual “afro-like” appearance.

Inside the temple’s main hall, visitors are welcome to sit quietly and practice nembutsu. Once again, there was that gentle pause—travel slowing into stillness, even if only for a few moments.

The day ended on a high note with dinner at Tendon Makino Kyoto Teramachi (天丼まきの 京都寺町店).
Their tendon was excellent—crispy tempura served over rice, done just right. The experience came with a thoughtful twist: diners are encouraged to enjoy about three-quarters of the bowl as it is, then pour dashi broth over the remaining portion.
The transformation was remarkable.
The broth softened the fried batter, infusing it with umami while lightening the overall richness of the dish. What began as something indulgent gradually turned into something warm and comforting—almost like ending the meal with a gentle reset.
Looking back on the day, nothing really went according to plan.
And yet, everything felt complete.
Perhaps that’s the quiet lesson—when we stop insisting on a fixed path, we begin to notice the richness of the path that unfolds on its own.

May all be well and happy.