Kyoto, a place that represents the deepest and oldest culture of Japan in the eyes of foreigners, is somewhat different from what is seen in imagination and video records - but not entirely unexpected either. Modern civilization does not pass by this city, which has a history of over a thousand years. Ancient temples and modern streets coexist peacefully here, and elegant noblewomen in traditional kimonos and the adjacent high-rise buildings along the street also coexist without conflict. The focus in the camera lens is on its history, but the people here are, after all, living in modern times.

I'm not a traveller who likes to "check-in" at popular tourist spots. My original travel plan for Kyoto was limited to seeking out the ancient temples and streets of Kyoto, and the rest was aimless wandering. In my opinion, the purpose of travel is not to declare "I've been here", but to understand a different world. I want to roam the market streets, explore the traditional markets, savour the food at street stalls, and daydream in the tea houses by the river.

However, this time, due to the enthusiastic recommendation of a friend who joined us halfway through the trip, we were pulled into a series of popular check-in spots. As a result, we were soon exhausted by the "check-ins" because all the popular spots were crowded with tourists. This was still in the middle of early spring in March, and the world-famous cherry blossom season in Japan was still ten days away - I chose this time to travel to avoid the peak - but the major scenic spots were already teeming with tourists. Let alone having leisure time to wander, in places like Kiyomizu-Dera and Fushimi Inari Taisha, the endless stream of people made one feel there was no escape, and taking pictures became a "group photo of thousands".

These renowned scenic spots are not separated from the residential areas like those in China. Several of the "remarkable" scenic spots in the city (in my friend's words), all the way to the place right next to the scenic spots, are filled with ordinary houses. You will feel as if you are passing through the daily life of the locals and accidentally arrive at the core of these historical and cultural attractions. Looking at the resident vehicles, crowded by tourists and moving forward like snails in the originally narrow streets, I can't help but wonder what it would be like to live here.

Recently, I have read a lot of news about the overloading of the tourism industry in Japan, mentioning that many Japanese primary and secondary schools have even had to give up Kyoto, a popular destination for school trips in previous years. This makes us tourists feel somewhat guilty. However, when I saw the expressions of the vendors in the shops at the scenic spots, enthusiastically soliciting customers in Japanese, English, and even Chinese and being extremely busy, I felt that I might be overthinking. After all, the vigorous development of tourism will surely create many jobs and business opportunities for the local area, and it will inevitably bring new vitality to the "lost for decades" Japanese economy, thereby having a positive impact on the lives of the locals. A good economy is not the only factor that defines a "good life", but it is an indispensable one.

This reminds me of the old lady who received us at the hotel we stayed in Kyoto. With silver hair but a vigorous figure, and speaking English more fluently than I do. On the way to lead us to the room, she explained the situation and history of the hotel to me, as if enumerating family treasures, making me wonder if she might have been working there for decades. Today, in Japan with a low birth rate, many elderly people have to extend their retirement age, but I think "retirement" may not be the place where the elderly really need to go. While hoping to end the hard work of a lifetime and enjoy the rest of their lives, they probably don't want to become "useless" people with nothing to do. Besides the need for income for some people, it is a good thing to exert some remaining energy and enrich life within their capabilities.

Of course, although tourism will bring new vitality and vigour to many such historical cities, it inevitably breaks the original peace left to them by history. We tourists who come in search of history also inadvertently become the force that breaks this historical tranquillity. I think many tourists in the bustling crowds at the "check-in spots" will feel a bit disappointed, just like I overheard someone in the crowd speaking Chinese and sighing, "Looking at all these people in kimonos on the street, it turns out that basically none of them are Japanese." The tone was both helpless and funny. At that time, I thought to myself that as the ones creating all this "helplessness", we seemed to be in an awkward situation: on the one hand, we wanted to enjoy the historical silence in such a city, but on the other hand, we destroy its silence because we are in it. It’s a constant dilemma: should one come here or keep a respectful distance?

However, compared to the bustling daytime, Kyoto tonight has relatively retained its true colours.

Because the Japanese-style hotel we stayed in is "hidden" in a small alley, every time we go out to eat, we have to walk through the winding streets. These old-fashioned small streets and alleys where people and vehicles are not separated show the details of the real life of the people of Kyoto: along the old but still clean and tidy slate sidewalks, small and exquisite wooden and brick houses stand in a row quietly; the cute and small cars in the parking area at the street corner are tightly parked together; in the small square at the fork in the road, bicycles are neatly parked in the designated areas on the ground; at the entrance of the night market, the archway stands majestically there; outside the restaurant, people are queuing up peacefully, and through the glass window, the inside of the restaurant is a busy scene. Although the people around and the waiters in the restaurant are all speaking a language I don't understand, and ordering food and paying the bill are done with half guesses and the help of gestures, I feel a strange sense of intimacy with this city.

I don't know if it's because compared to the neon-lit and busy streets of Ginza in Tokyo, and the hurried and constantly moving crowds, this small and delicate "slow-paced daily life" of Kyoto makes people feel more real. Coupled with the strong homology between Chinese and Japanese cultures, such street scenes are closer to the appearance of our hometown in our memories than the communities in North America.

Walking in the streets and alleys, observing and approaching the daily life of the locals, and understanding their living conditions and lifestyles. Such travel conforms to my definition of the purpose of travel. Travel should provide us with the opportunity to explore and understand the "elsewhere" that seems irrelevant to us; to seek the similarities and differences with our lives, and to complete our understanding of the world by establishing such connections and achieve understanding with the "others" in our eyes.- This understanding creates empathy between us, and this seemingly insignificant understanding and empathy may change the way we treat "others".

Near the end of World War II, it was precisely this sense of connection and empathy that may have saved Kyoto from the fate of atomic annihilation. It's said that when the U.S. was selecting locations for atomic bomb targets, Secretary of War Henry L. Stimson, having once visited Kyoto, felt a thread of connection and compassion for the city. This led him to persuade decision-makers to remove Kyoto from the target list. Who could have foreseen that one man’s personal experience—a single visit—would shape America’s approach to Kyoto in wartime, determining the fate of millions of lives in the city?

This, to me, is what we should truly seek to gain from travel: understanding. Those who have never visited a country or encountered its people, yet define them as “the enemy,” often cause others to pay a heavy price for their narrow perspective. The idea of a “shared destiny for humankind” is not merely a slogan; it’s an undeniable reality that too many are unaware of.