Once nice thing about Kyoto is that it's small enough that many of its famous vistas are within walking distance of each other. On our way to the next spot on our list, we passed this cool stockyard of ishidoro stone lanterns. For some reason, I'm crazy about stone lanterns. Even the Tanakas were amused by my enthusiasm.

I guess they're not worried anyone's going to run off with one.

Like Kamakura, Kyoto's less urban areas are served by tiny 2-car trains, essentially unchanged since the turn of the century. The views from these pint-sized locomotives, as they roll down rickety tracks through townships and hillsides, are as quaint as the vehicles themselves. We were about to conclude our tour in Arashiyama, the mountainside town at the western edge of the city. (Kyoto is bounded by three mountain ranges and a river, which ensures that most views of the place include a picturesque backdrop.)

All aboard...

Arashiyama is best experienced in the fall, when it's ablaze with crimson from its hundreds of maple trees, but we were too exhausted for sightseeing at this point, anyway. We were content to unwind over a delicious multi-course meal at one of the area's numerous traditional restaurants. Tofu, it turns out, is a Kyoto specialty—there must've been six different types on my plate alone.

I couldn't help but notice that the whole area reminded me very strongly of some of the mountainside towns I've been to in the States, especially the ones from my film festival days. There's just something about the smaller streets, the brick-and-lumber houses, the enormous green mountainsides cradling it all. It's like I was back in Ashland, Oregon, or even Sundance.

After dinner, Maiko was dying for ice cream (in the middle of winter?), which wasn't a difficult request to fulfill, since there were ice cream shops a-plenty. I was mesmerized by one flavor in particular, a gleaming dark gunmetal-colored confection that stuck out among the strawberries and vanillas. (In its wildest dreams, would Baskin-Robbins shops in the U.S. even consider selling ice cream the color of pencil lead? I think not.) "What on earth is that flavor?" I asked. "Try it," was the response. Turns out it was black-sesame flavor, and yes, it was fantastic.

After which, we headed home, a long moonlit walk along Arashiyama's famous river.

One of Arashiyama's many small shops, still open for business.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, was how I spent my first day in Kyoto.