From the market down to the palace

From the market, down to the palace

Something needs to be done on a national level about early wake up calls, alarms and tightly packed schedules. It is of utmost importance that I get more sleep. Although that last point might’ve been well within my control.

Sluggishly, I cracked my eyes open to find where to smack the screeching banshee that was my phone. I mashed the button until it was quiet again. With few minutes to spare, I moved the window shutter letting in both sunlight and cool, fresh air. Now, that’s how you’re supposed to wake up.

The view was still picturesque but not as remarkable as last night while it was bathed in the city lights. Bleak clouds and harsh light drained the charm right out of the view. It still was very “slice of life” but tilted towards just the “slice” with “life” leaving for greener pastures.

It was a fine time for coffee. Took me a minute or two to make my way down to the vending machine. The effort was rewarded with another can of Boss with an image of an old man and a smoking pipe. I still have no idea how such a sailor-like character can symbolize coffee. After that unfulfilling breakfast, I charted a course for Nishiki Market—this time for something local. And ideally, something that resembled actual food.

Stuffed like a gyoza!

Ate everything I could lay my eyes on - gyoza, dango, skewers, mochi, takoyaki. I admit, it’s not the most healthy combo known to mankind but I still lost weight.

The market itself felt oddly familiar - same layout, same energy. Only the wares changed. Took a few strolls going criss-cross while being on the hunt for novelties and tastes but I was too early for regular shops to be open and the only stalls that were open were the ones serving food.

With nothing to do anymore, I took a quick coffee at a café before venturing out to Imperial Palace.

It was still morning when my feet finally pushed me onto the grounds of the Imperial Palace. Rain clung to everything, the sky a smothering grey. The weather didn’t just set the mood - it steeped the whole place in it.

I half-expected a chill to pass through me, or a whisper to drift from the trees. Instead, the cold soaked in slowly, bone-deep and unromantic. Spring in Kyoto was gentler in theory than in practice.

Still, if there was ever a place for uneasy echoes and restless spirits, this was it. These walls must’ve seen conspiracies, treachery, betrayal - all the things that cling to a place long after the people are gone.

Right place. Right weather. I pressed deeper into the compound, not sure what I was hoping to find - but fully open to the idea that the past might still breathe through the cracks.