Latest news with #AmanKyoto
CNA
12-07-2025
- CNA
What's it like to attend a traditional Japanese tea ceremony, or chanoyu?
An unusually hot April sun blazed over Kyoto as we arrived for a private tea ceremony, or chanoyu, in a centuries-old temple usually closed to outsiders. Our rare access came through Aman Kyoto where we were staying, and our travel consultants Blue Sky Escapes who had organised our three-week Japan journey. At the imposing wooden gate, we were greeted by an imperiously statuesque, monk, the hauteur of his high cheekbones matched by dignified black robes with white trim, an elegant fan in hand. We were immediately struck by the simplicity and beauty of the perfectly manicured garden of small shrubs and young saplings, its soft green punctuated by granite boulders and bordered by stone pavement – all compactly set against interlocking, single-storey buildings of black-tiled roofs and shaded porticos. Shadowed eaves provided welcome shade from the heat, and a profound stillness enveloped us. Dating back to 1631, the temple exists in another dimension entirely. I won't name it here out of respect for its privacy. Many of Kyoto's sacred sites maintain their seclusion not from exclusivity, but to preserve their essential purpose as places of worship rather than tourist attractions. The cultural treasures housed within also require thoughtful preservation, and daily spiritual practices would lose their essence if constantly intruded on. Our host monk led us along shaded timber corridors framed by a second interior garden. Like the first, this one contained few colours beyond varying shades of green, its moss-cloaked rocks, peppered with azaleas, pine and maple trees, showcasing a restrained palette typical of Zen aesthetics. Every so often, he'd pause and direct our attention through sliding fusuma doors to high-ceilinged rooms lined with exquisite paintings, including works by masters of the Kanno school dating from the 16th-century Momoyama to early Edo periods. Polished cypress floors, cool underfoot, and beautifully aged cedar doors spoke of centuries of care. Rather than using the traditional tea house, made of bamboo and tree bark, tucked at the back of the grounds, we entered a vast tatami room with perfectly framed views of the garden – a kindness toward foreign guests unaccustomed to kneeling in the traditional seiza position for long periods. Here the contrast was striking: Inside this quiet sanctuary, time seemed to slow, while just beyond this room, tourists hurried through Kyoto's more accessible attractions. 'The tea ceremony you'll experience today is abbreviated,' our host explained as he settled behind a low table dressed with pots and utensils. 'The full traditional version takes over two hours.' Shorter than Avengers: Endgame, I thought. The service unfolded mostly in silence. Mesmerised, we watched the monk ladle water into a heated pot, and whisk the matcha, each movement precise, graceful. It was like a slow dance. Each gesture had purpose, infused by ritual; nothing existed without meaning. It had taken our host 10 years to master the art. Every chanoyu is uniquely crafted to honour the guests, the season, and even the time of day. This attention to context was reflected in the scroll hanging in the tokonoma alcove bearing the phrase 'every day is a good day' – undoubtedly more poetic in its original Japanese – and in the carefully selected seasonal tsubaki, or camellia, flower arrangement. Our host set before each of us a black lacquered plate so perfectly polished it resembled a lake at midnight, bearing a seasonal wagashi sweet with a kuromoji wooden skewer. To my untrained ear, the red-bean sweet's name sounded like 'haru ulala' which he explained was meant to capture 'the bright, clear quality of the season'. Siri later informed me that the name of the sweet likely rhymed with haru uta, a traditional Japanese song performed only in spring. As he prepared the matcha, our host shared insights that shaped our appreciation of a traditional chanoyu. The earthen tea bowl's shape should respond to the seasons – flared lips for summer to cool the brew, tighter rims for winter to preserve warmth. Even the selection of the bowl reflects the gender of the tea master. Pale green powder in hot water became frothy liquid as he worked the bamboo whisk with both grace and an economy of movement, every gesture choreographed by centuries of tea lore. Eventually, he rose from his seat. Padding towards us on white-stockinged feet, he placed the bowl of frothy matcha beside the wagashi. 'Please eat the sweet first, then drink the tea,' he murmured. He noticed my rings. 'These are low-fired bowls, so they are delicate. Best to remove metal jewellery before handling.' Even the way one drinks the matcha is prescribed. With the bowl balanced on the left palm, you turn it clockwise with the right hand so the front, marked by a delicate design faces you before drinking. The tea was intensely bitter yet complex in a way that demanded complete presence. Our host, a member of the Myoshinji sect – one of Kyoto's eight major Zen Buddhist lineages – explained that the chanoyu isn't merely about tea but about creating a space apart from worldly concerns and drawing participants fully into the moment. As I held the warm ceramic bowl, I felt inexplicably connected to something timeless. We were also refreshed in a way that surprised us. The intentional slowness had created an internal clearing for reflection that's rarely possible in our usual pace of life. I understood then why so many of Kyoto's most precious spiritual sites remain closed to the general public. For what we had experienced wasn't a performance but a practice – one that has continued for centuries, preserved not as a relic but as a living expression of a philosophical approach to life. At the end, as we passed back through the gate into the afternoon heat and crowds, I carried with me a tangible sense of ma – the Japanese concept of negative space that isn't empty but charged with possibility. In the measured pauses of the tea ceremony, we had found something increasingly elusive in our hurried world: A chance to simply stop, breathe and be present.
CNA
12-07-2025
- CNA
What's it like at a traditional Japanese tea ceremony, or chanoyu?
An unusually hot April sun blazed over Kyoto as we arrived for a private tea ceremony, or chanoyu, in a centuries-old temple usually closed to outsiders. Our rare access came through Aman Kyoto where we were staying, and our travel consultants Blue Sky Escapes who had organised our three-week Japan journey. At the imposing wooden gate, we were greeted by an imperiously statuesque, monk, the hauteur of his high cheekbones matched by dignified black robes with white trim, an elegant fan in hand. We were immediately struck by the simplicity and beauty of the perfectly manicured garden of small shrubs and young saplings, its soft green punctuated by granite boulders and bordered by stone pavement – all compactly set against interlocking, single-storey buildings of black-tiled roofs and shaded porticos. Shadowed eaves provided welcome shade from the heat, and a profound stillness enveloped us. Dating back to 1631, the temple exists in another dimension entirely. I won't name it here out of respect for its privacy. Many of Kyoto's sacred sites maintain their seclusion not from exclusivity, but to preserve their essential purpose as places of worship rather than tourist attractions. The cultural treasures housed within also require thoughtful preservation, and daily spiritual practices would lose their essence if constantly intruded on. Our host monk led us along shaded timber corridors framed by a second interior garden. Like the first, this one contained few colours beyond varying shades of green, its moss-cloaked rocks, peppered with azaleas, pine and maple trees, showcasing a restrained palette typical of Zen aesthetics. Every so often, he'd pause and direct our attention through sliding fusuma doors to high-ceilinged rooms lined with exquisite paintings, including works by masters of the Kanno school dating from the 16th-century Momoyama to early Edo periods. Polished cypress floors, cool underfoot, and beautifully aged cedar doors spoke of centuries of care. Rather than using the traditional tea house, made of bamboo and tree bark, tucked at the back of the grounds, we entered a vast tatami room with perfectly framed views of the garden – a kindness toward foreign guests unaccustomed to kneeling in the traditional seiza position for long periods. Here the contrast was striking: Inside this quiet sanctuary, time seemed to slow, while just beyond this room, tourists hurried through Kyoto's more accessible attractions. 'The tea ceremony you'll experience today is abbreviated,' our host explained as he settled behind a low table dressed with pots and utensils. 'The full traditional version takes over two hours.' Shorter than Avengers: Endgame, I thought. The service unfolded mostly in silence. Mesmerised, we watched the monk ladle water into a heated pot, and whisk the matcha, each movement precise, graceful. It was like a slow dance. Each gesture had purpose, infused by ritual; nothing existed without meaning. It had taken our host 10 years to master the art. Every chanoyu is uniquely crafted to honour the guests, the season, and even the time of day. This attention to context was reflected in the scroll hanging in the tokonoma alcove bearing the phrase 'every day is a good day' – undoubtedly more poetic in its original Japanese – and in the carefully selected seasonal tsubaki, or camellia, flower arrangement. Our host set before each of us a black lacquered plate so perfectly polished it resembled a lake at midnight, bearing a seasonal wagashi sweet with a kuromoji wooden skewer. To my untrained ear, the red-bean sweet's name sounded like 'haru ulala' which he explained was meant to capture 'the bright, clear quality of the season'. Siri later informed me that the name of the sweet likely rhymed with haru uta, a traditional Japanese song performed only in spring. As he prepared the matcha, our host shared insights that shaped our appreciation of a traditional chanoyu. The earthen tea bowl's shape should respond to the seasons – flared lips for summer to cool the brew, tighter rims for winter to preserve warmth. Even the selection of the bowl reflects the gender of the tea master. Pale green powder in hot water became frothy liquid as he worked the bamboo whisk with both grace and an economy of movement, every gesture choreographed by centuries of tea lore. Eventually, he rose from his seat. Padding towards us on white-stockinged feet, he placed the bowl of frothy matcha beside the wagashi. 'Please eat the sweet first, then drink the tea,' he murmured. He noticed my rings. 'These are low-fired bowls, so they are delicate. Best to remove metal jewellery before handling.' Even the way one drinks the matcha is prescribed. With the bowl balanced on the left palm, you turn it clockwise with the right hand so the front, marked by a delicate design faces you before drinking. The tea was intensely bitter yet complex in a way that demanded complete presence. Our host, a member of the Myoshinji sect – one of Kyoto's eight major Zen Buddhist lineages – explained that the chanoyu isn't merely about tea but about creating a space apart from worldly concerns and drawing participants fully into the moment. As I held the warm ceramic bowl, I felt inexplicably connected to something timeless. We were also refreshed in a way that surprised us. The intentional slowness had created an internal clearing for reflection that's rarely possible in our usual pace of life. I understood then why so many of Kyoto's most precious spiritual sites remain closed to the general public. For what we had experienced wasn't a performance but a practice – one that has continued for centuries, preserved not as a relic but as a living expression of a philosophical approach to life. At the end, as we passed back through the gate into the afternoon heat and crowds, I carried with me a tangible sense of ma – the Japanese concept of negative space that isn't empty but charged with possibility. In the measured pauses of the tea ceremony, we had found something increasingly elusive in our hurried world: A chance to simply stop, breathe and be present.
Grazia USA
24-06-2025
- Grazia USA
72 Hours Of Timeless Tradition & Natural Serenity At The Aman Kyoto
Bliss in the hinterlands of Kyoto. After a week of frenetic walking, eating and shopping in Osaka, the Aman Kyoto was the perfect escape antidote. Set on 80 acres of moss-covered gardens amidst the trees on the outskirts of Kyoto, it was pure peace and, unsurprisingly, has the unique ability to remain in your memory long after the experience has gone. Opened in 2019, the resort consists of beautifully laid out dark wood and glass modernist pavilions. Each building serves its own distinct function; arrival, living, dining and spa pavilions complement the four guest pavilions that comprise 24 guest suites. The rooms all had the hallmark understated simplicity and elegance that make staying at an Aman location such a unique experience. We stayed in the west-facing room, Kaede, which means maple leaf or tree. In Japan, maple signifies balance, harmony and renewal, which makes perfect sense as you enter any of the interiors at the Aman Kyoto. Our room served a calming neutral colour palette of soft oak tones framed by the stunning leafy green foliage and sunlight streaming in the floor-to-ceiling windows. It was a contemporary reimagining of the traditional ryokan, minimalist luxury. Behind the bed, sliding wood screens gave access to the ofuru bathtubs, wooden cubes of hinoki cypress, almost a metre and a half square. The clever wood panels also disguise the television and mini bar. The former, I didn't need to switch off in this sanctuary. The fine tatami mats covering the floors act like textured grass underfoot, while the floor-to-ceiling windows frame the outdoor view for the feeling of forest bathing. Even the tokonoma [alcoves where items for artistic appreciation, like the finely crafted scrolls and vases] were beyond easy on the eye, especially when visual expression is something I do for a living. Turn-down service is something we joke about in my family, as my daughter Grace [seen here] has experienced since her toddler years, when we were fortunate to travel and stay at 5-star resorts for my work as a stylist. While it may sound glamorous, realistically, most of the time, I would be out shooting from dawn to dusk without really getting to enjoy the luxuries. Yet nothing could beat the kind gestures and treats left for us in our room each evening at the Aman. My favourites were these shiori handcrafted bookmarks—'shiori' meaning the action of folding a tree branch as a mark in the way. Shifted from its original meaning, the bookmarks represent marking between the pages, tracing back and continuing your adventure in the secret gardens. I continue to use my embroidered bookmark today to remind me of my precious time in the Kaede room. I immediately headed for the onsen. It did not disappoint. Traditional onsen bathing facilities—outdoor, private and covered—utilise water from a local natural mineral hot spring to deliver pure relaxation. I was fortunate to soak in the covered outdoor rock pool solo, taking in the forest atmosphere. Shinrin-yoku, a Japanese term coined to combine the healing benefits of mindfulness and nature, was well and truly underway, and has been footnoted in my meditative thoughts wherever I am today. Aman Kyoto's spa offers treatments with healing ingredients unique to the area. These include Kyoto green tea, local sake and Tanba Kuromame black soy beans. The gold leaf mineral boosting mask takes inspiration from the nearby Kinkaku-ji Temple. You'll find 24ct gold leaf in the foot rituals as well, along with rice bran Azuki, natural sea salt, and sake, all set to calm and reduce inflammation. It's a peaceful respite, especially after a long day of sightseeing, Kyoto's endless rich heritage of temples, historic tea houses and fine craft shops. Afterwards, I wandered the gardens. They comprise 72 acres of permanent forest and eight acres of stone and moss gardens. The gardens have been developed over many decades, originally owned by one of the finest Nishijin Textile shops in Kyoto. The former owner was a lover of ancient ruins and collected rare and famous stones from all over Japan. To respect this living heritage site, Aman has restored the historic garden to recreate the lost landscape of the Edo period. I travelled along these mossy cobblestones and stone pathways, which led around the buildings of the multi-level property and into the forest. The more you walk, the more you contemplate, and the more you find hidden treasures like the worn stone buddhas with offerings of citrus hidden amongst the moss. One day, I walked along a path into the cedar and cypress woods only to find a massive moss-covered stone staircase up into the woods leading to nowhere. No wonder it's called the Secret Garden. Tucked along the pathways and massive stone slab walls were many viewpoints and stone benches—perfect for watching the sun stream through the evergreens. Every season provides a kaleidoscope of change from winter's camellias and evergreen Japanese cedars and wood ferns, through to spring's burst of plum blossoms and summer's plethora of peonies, hydrangeas and irises. Autumn would be my favourite season to experience, with ample fiery red and orange foliage, an oasis of calm to envelop nature and set your mind at ease. Breakfast is perhaps my favourite meal. Hence, I was torn between a Western and a traditional Japanese style. So we chose both. The spectacular Japanese breakfast consisted of fermented foods like pickles and miso, along with Obanzui, local vegetables and Chawanmushi, an egg custard from local free-range eggs. I couldn't resist the sashimi sea urchin and tuna, not realising this was followed by your choice of Wagyu beef or fish of the day. The idea of a Japanese breakfast being considered ideal for longevity and a healthy start to the day was an understatement. Save some space for the creamy soya milk porridge, after all, the saying goes that porridge has ten Merits. Made from handmade soya milk from the famous Tofu Shop 'Toyouke-ya' close to Aman Kyoto, it is totally delightful, especially if you wrap it up with a locally made Matcha tea. Designed in harmony was a major consideration with the scale of the stand-alone pavilions to balance within the leafy gardens. The goal was to respect the simplicity of traditional Japanese architecture while still feeling contemporary. I was quite struck by the Tamba Himeji megalight stone, which greets you at the front gate. These finishing touches, like the various statues situated in the garden and cobble pathways, leave you contemplating and eager to explore more. When considering the finer details, you can't go past Aman Kyoto's signature restaurant in the Living Pavilion. The central fireplace and glass doors opening on the zen garden provide a cosy atmosphere while we sampled the local Kyoto-style cuisine with a 'Land to Table' concept. Every dish appeared like a work of art, using locally sourced seasonal ingredients. Local Landmarks Keen to stay in my peaceful state, I chose to walk fifteen minutes to the famous golden Kinkaku-ji Temple. A gorgeous wooden Kinkakuji (金閣寺, Golden Pavilion) is a Zen temple whose top two floors are completely covered in gold leaf. Formally known as Rokuonji, the temple was the retirement villa of the shogun Ashikaga Yoshimitsu, and according to his will, it became a Zen temple of the Rinzai sect after his death in 1408. Amidst the throngs of tourists, it was still an incredibly picturesque sight to behold. Closer to the centre of Kyoto, I found more spirituality and tourists at the Chionin (知恩院), the head temple of the Jodo sect of Japanese Buddhism. The temple has spacious grounds and large buildings, including its massive Sanmon Gate. Chionin is located north of Maruyama Park and Yasaka Shrine in Kyoto's Higashiyama District. If you have time, perhaps on your way out of Kyoto, be sure to visit the Unryu-in Temple, a Buddhist sub-temple of the large Sennyuji Temple. It's a hike, but this seldom-visited tiny temple is a secret, silent treasure worth the photo op of the gorgeous gardens seen through four square windows known as the Windows of Delusions. Zen Experiences If you are a guest at Aman Kyoto, enjoy the practice of Zen with resident monks offering expert guidance. Options include meditation at a temple, tea ceremonies, calligraphy, and ikebana flower arrangement. Location Aman Kyoto is situated in the foothills of the iconic Hidari Daimonji mountain, Kyoto's northern Takamine district. Getting There It is a 2-hour drive, a 90-minute express train ride from Kansai International Airport, and 1 1-hour drive from Osaka International Airport [Itami]. It is about 30 minutes by car from Kyoto Station. Book your stay at Aman Kyoto here.
