It was mid-July when I first stepped into the heart of Kyoto’s Gion Matsuri, Japan’s most iconic summer festival. From the moment I arrived, it felt like stepping into a living museum—a vibrant city wrapped in centuries of tradition and cultural pride.
My journey began during the Yoiyama evenings, held in the three days leading up to the main float processions. As the sun set, the streets along Shijō-dōri came alive with glowing lanterns, traditional music, and the joyful hum of festivalgoers. The rhythmic sound of flutes, drums, and bells—the Gion bayashi—echoed between the buildings, wrapping everyone in a warm embrace of sound and spirit. People of all ages, many dressed in colourful yukata, wandered through the lively streets, enjoying street food like takoyaki and shaved ice while browsing charming stalls selling handmade crafts and souvenirs.
One of the most breathtaking parts of the festival was seeing the Yamahoko floats up close. These magnificent structures, some towering as high as 25 meters, were covered in stunning tapestries and intricate woodwork. Each float told a story from Japanese folklore or history, and the craftsmanship behind them was astonishing. It was easy to understand why the festival is often called a "moving museum."
On July 17, I joined thousands of others lining the streets to watch the Saki-Matsuri Yamahoko Junko, the first grand procession. The atmosphere was electric as the massive floats slowly made their way through the city. One unforgettable moment was watching a float being turned manually at an intersection, using logs and coordinated effort. The teamwork, shouting, and determination displayed by the float handlers were inspiring and deeply moving.
Later in the month, on July 24, the Ato-Matsuri procession offered a more serene experience. Eleven floats made their way through the quieter streets, accompanied by performances, traditional costumes, and children in warrior outfits riding hobby horses. The Hanagasa Junko, featuring flower-umbrella floats and elegant dancers, added a poetic touch to the final days of the festival.
What made the experience even more special was the atmosphere surrounding the festival. Even in the bustling modern city, Kyoto felt timeless during Gion Matsuri. Walking along the Shirakawa River, past tea houses and lantern-lit streets, I could sense the centuries-old traditions still alive today. People hung charm amulets (chimaki) above their doors for protection, and paper plum blossoms made by local women decorated the floats. The presence of the chigo—young boys representing divine figures—added a spiritual dimension to the celebration.
My first visit to the Gion Festival was more than just a cultural outing—it was a powerful connection to history, community, and beauty. Kyoto came alive in a way I had never seen before, with every street and float telling a story. The festival left a lasting impression on me, and I now understand why people from all over the world return year after year. The Gion Matsuri is not just an event—it’s a celebration of the soul of Kyoto.
Read More: www.gionfestival.org/blog/my-first-visit-to-kyotos-gion-festival/
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