The day’s itinerary was ambitious. Our guide met us early, and we could immediately tell she was expecting us to be normal, reasonable people. “You didn’t cancel?” she asked, wide-eyed, likely contemplating whether we had a death wish or were just ignorant of what 40°F feels like. We reassured her that we were Alaskans, which meant not only did we find 40° to be sweater weather, but that we had an unnatural ability to ignore personal discomfort. A little cold wasn’t going to stop us!
As if Kyoto itself decided to test our resolve, the moment we stepped onto the grounds of Kinkaku-ji, the famed Golden Pavilion, it started to snow. Yes, snow. In Kyoto. In February. While the Japanese locals were wisely staying indoors, bundled up with cups of tea, we found ourselves wandering through an eerily empty temple complex, gazing at a structure so golden it looked like Midas himself went in a touching spree.
Snowflakes drifted around us, adding an extra layer of magic to the already surreal scene. Kinkaku-ji is almost offensively beautiful, like it was designed specifically to make all other buildings feel insecure. It perches beside a reflective pond, so picturesque it might as well come with a pre-installed Instagram filter.
Next up: Ryōan-ji, home to Japan’s most famous rock garden, a place of profound spiritual reflection. With no crowds and only the sound of wind in the trees, it felt like we had Kyoto’s serenity to ourselves. It was peaceful. 
After a quick stop at Kitano Shrine, we made an executive decision: it was time for ramen. Kyoto University students are nothing if not opinionated about their ramen joints, and we took the recommendation of one particularly enthusiastic scholar who directed us to his favorite hole-in-the-wall spot (As we happened to be near the university when we started looking). We wedged ourselves inside and were promptly served steaming bowls of absolute perfection, rich broth, and perfectly chewy noodles. Joni, once again proving to be the most adaptable traveler among us, happily observed from her warm perch while we slurped our way back to life.
Revived, we said goodbye to our guide and struck out on our own, heading to the Kyoto Imperial Gardens. 
The palace itself, once home to emperors and political intrigue, now plays host to free tours that let you wander through its meticulously maintained halls while a guide casually drops historical facts. Fun fact: Kyoto was Japan’s imperial capital for over a thousand years before Tokyo swooped in and stole the spotlight.
After what felt like miles of walking (because it was), we returned to our bougie sanctuary for a short siesta before braving the night air once more in search of gyoza. A certain Pamela-adjacent influencer had raved about a tiny, 12-seat gyoza spot, and we are nothing if not highly suggestible when it comes to food recommendations. Navigating Kyoto’s streets as the temperature dipped toward freezing, we arrived to find a moderate line, always a good sign. Joni, ever the well-prepared traveler, remained content and cozy under her travel-heated blanket, while we patiently waited for our turn to squeeze into what was essentially a glorified closet.
The gyoza? Worth every second of the wait. Crispy, juicy, flavorful perfection. They even had unique flavors such as wasabi, pickled ginger, and mozzarella. Joni, unfazed by the sizzling pans and boisterous conversation around her, snoozed through the entire experience.
Finally, exhausted but deeply satisfied, we made our way back to our fancy Kyoto abode, where we promptly collapsed into sleep, dreaming of golden temples, snowy gardens, and the undeniable glory of a well-made dumpling.
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