Ah, Kyoto. The city of ancient temples, serene tea ceremonies, and… missing guides. Our day began with an awkwardly long wait, staring at our watches and the empty street where our ride was supposed to be. Again. For the staggering amount of $$$$$$ we forked over for this trip, you’d think punctuality would be included. We certainly did. And we let the travel agency know. Repeatedly. Throughout the day.
After a colorful exchange of excuses (“Traffic!” “Miscommunication!” “A butterfly flapped its wings in Brazil!”), our ride miraculously appeared, as if conjured by sheer force of passive-aggressive texts. Off we went to a formal Japanese tea ceremony, a cultural experience designed to calm the soul. We clearly needed it.
We arrived at a stunning 100+ year-old Japanese-style home, where we were greeted by Kya, our tea master for the day, and her assistant, who seemed to be even older than the house itself.
Just as we were marveling at the beautiful tea room, the assistant shuffled over and, without preamble, took Joni from us. Just scooped her right up and began babysitting like it was the most natural thing in the world. It was adorable and Joni seemed to be enjoying herself, so we went with it.
Kya began to explain the history and tradition behind the formal Japanese tea ceremony. It’s a precise art, full of symbolism and grace. 
Every movement is deliberate, from the way the tea is scooped to the way the bowl is turned before drinking. Kya performed the ceremony flawlessly for me, moving with a kind of elegance that made me wonder if she was part geisha. Afterward, Emily and I took turns performing the ceremony for each other, fumbling our way through the intricate steps. It was peaceful, calming, and an exercise in patience.
Meanwhile, Joni was having the time of her life with her new friend, who somehow managed to entertain her using only ancient Japanese magic (or, more likely, just a really gentle touch and decades of grandmotherly wisdom). Either way, we were grateful.
After the tea ceremony, we slogged to a delicious lunch of udon noodles that nearly made up for the morning’s debacle.
Then we strolled along the Philosopher’s Path, a picturesque walkway lined with quaint antique stores and little shops. Emily, naturally, had to inspect each one. I watched Joni while she browsed, hoping to absorb some of that Zen-like calm the path was supposed to inspire.
Our next stop was Sanjūsangendō Temple, a magnificent hall filled with 1,001 life-sized statues of Kannon, the goddess of mercy. Each statue was intricately carved with incredible detail, making the entire room look like a golden army frozen in time. The temple itself was massive, the longest wooden structure in Japan. It was both awe-inspiring and slightly intimidating, mostly because I was certain Joni would pick this moment to wail and disrupt the centuries-old serenity.
Fortunately, she stayed quiet, clearly in awe of the statues (or just really tired). (We weren’t allowed to take pictures so I stole these from the internet)
We were feeling good… until we remembered we were still battling the travel agency. They had decided to move our trip to Nara to a weekend, which also happened to be a holiday. When we asked to change it, they politely refused. This news arrived just as our blood sugar levels hit rock bottom, leading to a trifecta of hangry parents and a very tired baby. The day ended with a sobbing Joni and our reluctant resort to the cry-yourself-to-sleep method. It took 20 excruciating minutes, but it worked. We both felt like the worst parents ever.
Tomorrow, we tackle Nara on our own. No travel company. No itinerary changes. Just us, some deer, and hopefully a better day.
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