Pontocho

Pontocho is a narrow alley running next to the Kamogawa river, between the two bridges Sanjo and Shijo. That’s probably why the name is a portmanteau of Portuguese and Japanese meaning bridge district (Ponto + cho). We had a hotel which was a short walk from Pontocho, so we ended up having every dinner there. I remembered the lane as being more laid back, less crowded than it is now. The featured photo shows the crowds and a lantern with chidori, a white plover, which is the symbol of Pontocho. On the first day as we threaded our way between tourists we saw a geiko (as a geisha is called here) and two maiko (apprentices) walking past us. Taking photos of them is now frowned upon, so we stuck with this new convention.

Before coming to Kyoto I’d checked up that the annual festival of Kamogawa Odori was on after a pandemic break. Unfortunately it was impossible to buy a ticket online. I asked a local tourist agency whether they could get tickets for us, and they told us that it was easy to get tickets on the day of the performance, and we should do it ourselves. We discovered that it was easy if you spent time in a long queue, and we decided to spend that time walking around the sights of Kyoto instead. So, although we passed this 19th century building called the Kaburenjo Theatre several times, we only stared at its pink door instead of stepping in.

It rained every evening except our first one in Kyoto. Later I was really glad that we’d walked up to Shijo and admired the view. Especially interesting was the sight of people sitting on the embankment next to the Kamogawa river, as they must have since the 17th century when it was built, and Pontocho created. This photo also shows the platforms called kawayuka which looked like wonderful places to have dinner. We booked a table at one of them, but since it rained every day after I took this photo, that is something that we’ll have to do the next time we go to Kyoto.

When I looked at my photos again I wondered why I’d taken this particular photo. It certainly looks like a comfortable little bar. But aha! It was meant to be an utilitarian photo. The family booked at table at the restaurant next door, but all the signs were in Japanese. I took this photo to remember the location by. Still, I’m glad I took the photo, because that door is very typical of the traditional houses that line Pontocho.

Pontocho in 2010

I went back to the photos I’d taken of Pontocho more than a decade ago when I spent three weeks in Kyoto. I’d stayed a lane away from this lovely alley at its other end, near Sanjo, and had dinner here several times. As you can see if you click on the photos, its look was more traditional then.

Golden memories

For our last dinner in Kyoto The Family decided to make a prior reservation at a restaurant in Pontocho with a deck looking out on the river with a view towards the Minamiza Theatre, which is normally ablaze with lights at night. As luck would have it, it rained all day and continued to rain till early next morning. So we reached the restaurant on an evening when the deck was not usable. We sat inside a glass door with rain-spattered view of the lights of Gion across the dark waters of the Kamo.

In my memory no stay in Japan has been long enough. My days are crowded with sights, and evenings with wonderful food. This was no exception. Very conscious of the fact that this was our last chance to choose our favourites, we started with a plate of sashimi. To our surprise it came sprinkled with gold leaf. We are familiar with food covered with silver leaf, so the concept was not new to us. But gold! We prolonged the evening, converting this elegant restaurant to a private izakaya. So we followed the sashimi with small eats, the most memorable being the Kyoto-style pickled vegetables. There were three of these: sliced eggplant, and elegant slices of pumpkin and radish. When we came to the desserts our choice was tough. The Family chose a ginger flavoured ice cream, which came served as a layered set of flat scoops, a visual reminder of gari. I went for a matcha covered botamochi, lumps of sweet sticky rice. When we walked out we didn’t sing in the rain, but there certainly was one in my heart.