From Higashiyama Station on the Tozai Subway Line, the walk east along Sanjo-dori feels like a gentle prelude to arrival. You pass beneath the first torii of Awata Shrine, follow its stone-paved approach, and slip into narrow paths that edge the old stone wall near the second gate. There, tucked quietly on a hillside in a residential quarter, stands Awata-an (OUR TURN)—a machiya townhouse only six minutes from the station, yet a world apart.
The entrance opens with the weight of old wood. Inside, a vintage chest of drawers and a Kannon mask from the Taisho to early Showa era greet you, as if the house itself wishes to introduce its past. The small two-tatami entry hall offers a place to pause, sit, and remove your shoes before stepping deeper within.
On the first floor, two tatami guest rooms sit beside a cypress bath. The bathroom floor is laid with blue Towada stone, cool beneath the feet, and from the tub you can gaze out at a dry landscape garden where rocks and moss compose their quiet scene. A kitchen, washroom, and toilet complete the space, balancing the traditional with the practical.
Upstairs, two more tatami rooms unfold—one of six mats, the other of three. Shoji screens soften the light from windows on all four sides, filling the rooms with a brightness that feels both calm and alive. Beneath the tatami on both floors lies a hidden detail: hemp charcoal plaster, lending freshness to the air and comfort to each step.
Awata-an is not only a house but a vantage point on Kyoto’s seasons. In spring, the weeping cherries of Heian Shrine; in early summer, fireflies along the quiet Shirakawa; in autumn, the Philosopher’s Path and the crimson maples of Eikando; in winter, camellias blooming at Honen-in. Nearby stand the stone aqueduct of Nanzen-ji, the temple halls of Shoren-in, and the broad grounds of Chion-in—each a reminder that the city’s history is never far, even when you return to the stillness of this house on the hill.