Aman Kyoto

Disclaimer: this article is written by a self-proclaimed Aman-junkie. Yes, we are real. So are the Aman-fairies who seem to be invisible, fluttering around the property making everything perfect and speaking an Aman-language which is a whole lot of ‘your wish is my command’.

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This time, we had set our hearts high upon a lofty mountaintop, 30 minutes’ drive from the city of Kyoto: Aman Kyoto. Kyoto’s obligatory tourist hot list of rickshaw rides in the bamboo forest, walking in the tunnel of torii gates at Fushimi Inari Shrine and capturing the Insta-worthy, sakura-lined Imperial Palace of Kyoto was done and dusted by these Smiths a decade ago, which left plenty of time to indulge in one too many fresh mochi and matcha tiramisu stops along the way from Osaka. 

We were greeted with a ‘Welcome home!’ at the gates of Aman Kyoto, which means, ‘Leave EVERYTHING to us Emperor Smiths’ in Aman-language. The staff were at the ready to help me and my heels navigate the carpet of smooth stones that lead to the arrival pavilion, but an Aman-fairy from Aman Venice had prepared for me for moments like this by pointing me to a shoe shop that crafts flats that fold into the size of my palm. I slipped out of my city heels (leaving behind the frenzied traveller with an endless-FOMO-to-do list) and into my Venetian flats, allowing the stone pathway to gently massage my feet as I walked and embraced the calm, relaxed, origami-making, hojicha-sipping, Smith-approved, Aman-junkie version of me. 

You see, it’s the subtle details of Aman Kyoto that makes you transform. Mr Smith and I are all for immersive-art experiences, but nothing prepared us for living in a secret garden in a 80-acre property that had received TLC for decades by its fashionable former owner. Think Yama Momiji maple trees and Japanese cedar trees, a wooded hill on our left, a meandering stream on the right, moss-covered stone pathways, manicured platforms, ponds and sculptures. It was raw yet refined, wild yet created. ‘A piece of art coming to life! This must be something else in the autumn with the shades of red, gold and amber,’  I mused, probably looking as dreamy-eyed as the deer we spotted on our way to the pavilion.
 
The black timber pavilions, in sleek and minimalist Kerry Hill design, seemed to augment the burst of greens and it made perfect sense. As we walked into our tatami-clad, modern take on a traditional Japanese ryokan, the blinds of the floor-to-ceiling windows were drawn up ceremoniously to reveal the garden screaming in colour. Mr Smith likes a to jump into my bath under the false pretence of a relaxing soak, but it took a good 30 minutes to fill up the gigantic hinoki-cypress-wood Japanese-style bath tub, by which time Mr Smith had dozed off and I selfishly succumbed to the heady aroma of yuzu infusion in total, private bliss.
 
Kyoto is all about kaiseki meals and Aman’s got the memo. Dinner was a hushed menu-less kaiseki experience under soaring ceilings, where a kimono-clad hostess poured rare sake and the chef silently treated us to the most delicious local and seasonal fare, with some ingredients foraged from the forest nearby. The melt-in-the-mouth Omi-Wagyu courses presented on exquisite ceramic had me break the silence with delightful proclamations of ‘Oishi!’ 

Connecting one to nature in every possible way is in Aman’s DNA, so we were prescribed a post-dinner soak to soothe the limbs at the spa, which turned out to be the perfect way to end the day. Something about being fully immersed in the mineral-rich, healing waters of a traditional onsen comforts not just the body, but the mind and soul. 

Aman Kyoto’s quiet location had us enveloped in a world of tranquillity, away from the throngs of tourists. We started our days with yoga under the maple trees, followed by breakfast in our yukatas. We loved the electric-bike tours (well, one of us more than the other; one of us opted for a manual bike to navigate the hills…), with our private guide who brought us to attractions such as Kinkaku-ji (the Golden Pavilion), and several Zen gardens and traditional tea houses. 

These Smiths could not get enough of our daily garden walks, which turned out to be surprisingly philosophical. A staircase of smooth rock boulders are so carefully placed that when you reach the top and look back, it’s a smooth path. A Japanese saying: when you are young, every hurdle is tough to climb and causes stress, but when you are old and look back at your life, you realise it has always been smooth.