The ancient city of Kyoto, the capital of Japan for over 1,000 years, is home to many of the most famous Buddhist temples and Shinto shrines in Japan. A collection of some of the most famous of these can be found along the Path of Philosophy (in Japanese, Tetsugaku no Michi or 哲学の道), a narrow trail following a canal that winds through the Higashiyama (東山) district of Kyoto, roughly from Ginkaku-ji (銀閣寺) to Nanzen-ji (南禅寺).

While the walk and certainly the temples and shrines along it are beautiful at any time of the year, walking the path in the spring when the cherry trees that line almost its entire length are in full bloom is especially nice.

It was with this in mind that I set out for the Path of Philosophy this morning during the peak of Kyoto’s sakura season. As could be expected of one of the most popular locations in Kyoto for enjoying the sakura, the path was filled with people. This did nothing to take away from the beauty of the surroundings, however. Walking the tree-lined path, listening to the water run along the canal, ducking inside the traditional shops, and experiencing the quiet calm of the temples and shrines made me feel as if I had been transported back in time to the Kyoto of long ago - at least until I was reminded that I was still in the middle of a modern city of almost 1.5 million residents by a taxi cab that sped up the road to one of the temples I was visiting, parked right next to a mound of raked sand, and almost ran over a number of people in the process.

Ginkaku-ji, the shogunate villa turned Buddhist temple, is the northern terminus of the Path of Philosophy. Its elaborate sand sculptings and perfectly manicured hillside moss gardens make it the path’s most famous and popular temple. The villa and its grounds are considered to be a prime example of refined Japanese design and architecture. However, since I’d already been to Ginkaku-ji previously, I bypassed it this time in favor of some comparatively neglected locations.

Honen-in is one such temple. Though mentioned in some guidebooks and clearly signposted in both English and Japanese, only a small trickle of tourists makes the five minute uphill trek from the Path of Philosophy to Honen-in’s entrance. Inside, a lone sakura tree added a flair of color to the temple’s Buddhist cemetery and a pair of turtles sat sunning themselves on a row of submerged logs in the temple pond. Trees cast shadows on the moss-covered ground and a carefully-placed leaf directed the flow of a stream of water. Here, there was no admission fee, no gift shop. Instead of ticket checkers and docents, I saw monks. Relatives stopped by the cemetery to visit the graves of their ancestors. Compared with Ginkaku-ji, Honen-in is a far better example of a normal, working temple complex.

Just a few minutes away from the crowds along the Path of Philosophy, homes lined a deserted narrow mountain street. When the wind blew, sakura petals slowly fell and covered the ground as though they were snowflakes. And then, out of nowhere, came a string of giant yellow schoolbuses for the Eikando Kintergarten with big plastic babies stuck on their fronts. If there is one thing I learned from walking the Path of Philosophy, it is to never underestimate Japan’s ability to throw something totally unexpected at you.