Kyoto and the way of the samurai: A gentleman’s journey through Old Japan

Nijō Castle.

My first stop was Nijō Castle, once the residence of the Tokugawa shoguns, those great political tacticians and keepers of courtly restraint. Here, power and elegance meet in silence. The castle interiors are graced by gold-paintings of tigers, minimal yet commanding. Not roaring beasts, but watchful, composed symbols of strength cloaked in golden restraint. In Japanese lore, the tiger is a protector - never the aggressor, always the guardian. As I stood before one such mural, I felt as though it was speaking to me. Hold your ground. Speak less. Watch everything.

Photography is prohibited inside Nijō Castle, so I leave the rest to your imagination. Perhaps that’s how it should be - some beauty is best remembered, not captured.

The architecture of Nijō Castle reflects an aesthetic rarely found in modern leadership - restraint with presence. Every sliding door, every tatami mat, every ink-drawn pine tree whispers of a time when even shoguns knew that control over oneself was the highest power a man could possess. There, I found a renewed appreciation for minimalist authority - a theme that, perhaps, we must reclaim in our age of noise and clutter.

The old-aristocratic ritual at Fushimi Inari Shrine.

From there, I walked the ancient path to the Fushimi Inari Shrine, a spiritual maze of over 10,000 torii gates. Here, red gates fram - each one inviting reflection, submission, gratitude. I saw businessmen in pressed suits bow at the horse guardian statues, mothers lighting incense with children in tow, and wanderers like myself pausing before ancestral altars. The rituals may be old, but they remain alive - not for spectacle, but for the soul.

There is something undeniably chivalric about Fushimi Inari. Not in a romantic sense, but in its devotion to tradition. It reminded me that a gentleman must have his own rituals of refinement - his way of starting the day, preparing his thoughts, choosing his words. Just as the shrine demands bowed heads and careful steps, so too should we demand discipline in our own lives, if we are to walk through our personal gates with honor.

Tenryu-ji Temple.

And then, there was Tenryu-ji Temple - a place of such serenity that even time seems to hesitate. The famed Zen garden is not loud with color, but with intention. Stones placed like sentences in a poem. Trees bent like aging scholars, wise from withstanding seasons. A single pond reflecting the mountain sky. Here, one does not look - one listens.

I sat in stillness on the veranda, back straight, and watched a monk sweep fallen leaves. It struck me then: there is dignity in repetition, in humility, in the care of small things. For all our pursuits of greatness, it is often in the gentle rituals - the handwritten letter, the polished shoes, the opened door - that true chivalry is revealed. In a world that rushes, the gentleman slows down. He sees. He honors.

Nijō Castle.

Kyoto is not just a destination - it is a lesson. In this city of emperors and artisans, gardens and shrines, one walks not to arrive but to remember. To remember that power need not be loud. That elegance can wear gold or gray. That tradition, when honored, becomes the compass of the modern man.

If you ever feel your code slipping - your sense of order, of taste, of dignity - come to Kyoto. Walk beneath the torii gates. Sit in the quiet of Tenryu-ji. Stand before the watchful gold tigers of Nijō Castle. Let the city visit you.

For within Kyoto lies a truth we all must eventually learn:
A gentleman is not born - he is carved, like stone, over time. And some of the finest chisels are hidden in the buildings of old Kyoto, waiting to be discovered by a man seeking refinement and gentleness.

All photos are writer’s own.