Author: Robert Ragaini, Globe Correspondent

Date: SUNDAY, February 7, 1999

Page: M1

Section: Travel

KYOTO, Japan -- ``Eiga o mini ikimasho'' goes a long way toward explaining the communication problems that bedevil Americans and Japanese. The word-for-word translation of our way of saying, ``Let's go to the movies'' is, in Japanese, ``Movie see let's go.'' So when Yuki Tsubakitani greeted me with a charmingly accented but otherwise perfect English, I was more than a little impressed.

Tsubakitani is a student at Kyoto University. She belongs to the Good Samaritan Club, volunteer guides who escort visitors around Kyoto so that they can practice their English. For me, a chance to see Japan's most touristed city through the eyes of a native daughter. For Tsubakitani? Well, that remained to be seen.

I met her, a lovely young woman with a slightly terrified look, at the office of the Japanese National Tourist Organization. I was old enough to be her father. Tsubakitani had learned English in school, she told me, but the emphasis was on reading and grammar. Though many students learn the language, she said, few can speak it, so she studied conversation at a church school.

``I don't have any religion,'' she hastened to explain. ``But my grandmother is a Buddhist. She prays for me.'' For praying, Kyoto is definitely the place. There is a seemingly infinite number of temples and shrines. There are over 500 annual festivals, most of them religious, as are the more than 200 gardens. But in the center of town, you would never know it.

Since Kyoto was born in 794 as Heian-kyo, the Capital of Peace and Tranquillity, it has stretched and spread until the name is mere wishful thinking. Its millions of citizens live in a hodgepodge of apartments and houses and work in concrete boxes and steel-and-glass skyscrapers. The dominant esthetic is neon.

So the American tourist expecting spiritual enrichment and ancient beauty is apt to be considerably dismayed. The bus Tsubakitani and I boarded was chartreuse on the outside, had pink and purple velour seats and lime green strap handles. A color scheme not born of peace and tranquillity.

Forty-five minutes later we got off at a busy intersection. Above the street sign -- Imadegawa Street -- was another in Japanese and English pointing to the Ginkaku-ji Temple. At the tourist office we had picked up a printout of ``Walking Tour Courses in Kyoto'' and decided to combine two of them. This meant passing by the Hakusha-Sonso garden, an agonizing omission since, in a New York Times article, it had been called ``a superb study in garden design'' and ``a blend of rural scenery and sensual lushness.'' But we had limited time and much to see.

``This is supposed to be beautiful in the moonlight,'' Tsubikitani said. We were gazing at a field of coarse gray sand raked in simple parallel ridges of slightly different heights. The ripples in this ``sea of the silver sand'' were designed to brighten the darkened garden. ``But,'' -- was this a Zen conundrum? -- ``the temple isn't open at night.'' Above the dry garden, trails twisted up the side of a hill where pines grew out of tumbling patches of thick green moss. ``Ginkaku-ji was built by a shogun in the 15th century,'' Tsubikitani said. ``He loved Kyoto's famous Moss Garden, but women weren't allowed in so he built this to show his mother.

``Because he wasn't interested in politics, the entire city was destroyed,'' she added. A man of contradictions, apparently. While plagues, riots, and famines racked Kyoto and bodies lay in the streets, Shogun Joshimasa planned the Silver Pavilion as a peaceful retirement villa. When he died in 1490, the 12 buildings dotting the mountainside were turned into a temple. What remains are a lovely two-story pavilion whose double curved roofs rise over the garden and the oldest tea room in Japan.

We had approached Ginkaku-ji by a street lined with shops and restaurants in minuscule wooden houses hung with colorful banners. Here was the Kyoto I'd come to see, only a couple of miles but light years from the city center. As we left, Tsubikitani took a sharp left, and soon we were walking by the side of a small canal linked by a series of gently arched bridges. The Philosopher's Walk, named not for an ancient sage but a 20th-century professor, ambles benignly through a peaceful suburb punctuated by tea houses, tiny shrines, and an Imperial graveyard. In January, when we walked it, the path was bare except for an occasional jogger in sweatpants. But then so were the cherry trees, unlike in springtime when both path and trees are overloaded.

At a street corner, strings of crisp white paper were draped over a cushioned bench. Each contained a fortune and was for sale at the little shop down the slope. Tsubikitani's parents had an arranged marriage, she told me, but when her father's fortunes predicted bad luck three times in a row, he broke the engagement. By that time, however, he had fallen in love, so his mother retied the knot.

And was the marriage happy, I wanted to know. ``Not according to my mother,'' Tsubikitani said.

There were two more temples within the walk's two-mile stretch, but we passed them by on the way to our midpoint objective, the Zen temple of Nanzen-ji. ``It is my favorite,'' my young guide said. ``Especially now when it's empty.'' It was hard to imagine Nanzen-ji with tourists. The vast complex of enormous buildings seemed somehow too fragile to support such a burden. A network of small rooms and miniature gardens honeycombed the space, each an exquisite work of art. Perfectly placed rocks were set in beds of moss or small seas of meticulously raked sand. Rooms opened their shoji screen doors to scaled down landscapes or were walled with magnificent 400-year-old paintings. The feeling of repose was tangible, otherworldly, seductive. It pulled us to it, slowed our steps, said stay, remain a while. Forever.

But by now hunger pulled us even more. Just beyond the temple, Tsubikitani stepped into an alley to a tiny noodle shop. Inside a woman bowed and set two cups of tea on a spotless counter. In a very few minutes steaming bowls of rice topped with chicken and egg were placed before us, a delicious Oyaka domburi lunch. Seven dollars in ``outrageously expensive'' Japan.

After Nanzen-ji, I had a bad case of temple fever. When we passed the great gate of Chion-in looming gigantically by the roadside it was painful not to have time to explore. And beyond there were two more temples, not to mention another famous garden. The sad realization that what we were covering -- and not covering -- would take a week to do properly lay heavily on my shoulders.

So I tried a little Zen and got back to what was, instead of what couldn't be.

Maruyama Park had a familiar look. Kids racing about, teenagers laughing, couples smooching, old folks feeding pigeons. It seemed like city parks everywhere except for one of the tallest gates in Japan and a restaurant specializing in yams and dried cod. We grabbed steamed vegetable buns at a fast-food stand, and I asked Tsubikitani if she thought there were great cultural differences between Japanese and Americans.

``It depends on the person,'' she replied diplomatically. ``I bow less and less,'' she said when I commented on the ubiquitous practice. ``Sometimes you can hardly say goodbye because the other person just keeps bowing.'' We were headed for Ninenzaka and Sannenzaka, large names for a small neighborhood of old houses in an architecturally preserved zone. I'd hoped for, naively, an authentic look into Kyoto's past. What I got was perhaps the best that could be expected.

As in all old quarters that have become fashionable, no matter which country, ordinary life had been replaced with chic craft shops and smart restaurants. But at least they were attractive and the bamboo ware, the porcelain, and stoneware were of high quality. And the old wood homes, cleaned and polished until they looked brand new, were a far sight better than the impersonal gray boxes of downtown.

We peeked into tea houses, gems of simple and elegant design, and studied the amazing displays outside the restaurants. In front of each were plastic replicas of the meals offered inside with prices, usually reasonable, beside them. What could have been garish had been created with a high degree of craft. Each dish was not only amazingly realistic but designed with an artist's eye.

The sun was low in the winter sky when we approached Kiyomizu Temple along ``Teapot Lane,'' a street lined with pottery vendors. Near the entrance, a stream of water was pouring from the mouth of a fierce metal dragon. A cluster of long-handled cups would have been lying around the basin if they hadn't been snatched up by Japanese tourists who were jostling each other to dip up a drink.

In stark contrast to contemplative Nanzen-ji, Kiyomizu was almost riotous. If religion was practiced here, it was certainly not in the Western sense. Crowds of tour groups, all Japanese, posed laughingly for pictures on a great wooden deck that hung over a gorge. When faced with a difficult decision, there is a popular local saying: ``Are you ready to jump off Kiyomizu?'' This being Japan, a goodly number have answered it literally.

Up a rocky staircase was a separate grouping of buildings with the telltale vermilion color of a Shinto shrine. Coexisting quite comfortably within the Buddhist temple grounds, a service was going on under one shelter while good luck charms were being sold in another. Giggling girls debated whether to pay 500 yen (about $4.35) for ``love knot'' or 1,000 yen for ``good marriage.'' For older types, there were talismans for ``against disaster'' and ``safety drive.'' I knew this because everything for sale was translated into English. But there was only one non-Asian in the vicinity and he wasn't buying.

Like pilgrims at a feast day, we joined the throng and tried to get into the spirit. But I was still under the spell of the Zen monastery. Kiyomizu may have been fun, but it wasn't for me.

We could have walked back to the tourist center, but it had been a long day, so we hopped on a bus. Suddenly, if it hadn't been for the faces and the language, we might have been in New York.

At the office, my guide became shy again. A day of being close had ended and we felt awkward at parting. So we exchanged addresses and said our goodbyes and she climbed on her final bus of the day. Though I can't recall for sure, I think we shook hands. I don't remember her bowing.

I had come to Kyoto out of a desire to experience Japan's cultural history, a history that predated my American heritage by thousands of years. With Tsubikitani's assistance I had glimpsed that past, and it was as fascinating and exotic as I imagined.

But because of her generosity, I had also seen the Japan of the present moment. And what impressed me most were the ways we were similar rather than different.

``I'm interested in ethnicity,'' she had told me. ``Especially places like the United States where many cultures live together.'' Not always peacefully, I thought. But if you and I are so much alike, I thought again, there's hope for us all. As for Tsubikitani, perhaps I helped her to feel that too.

From Tokyo: Two hours on the fastest express train to four hours on the local. Japan Airlines flies to Kansai International Airport in one hour. Then it is 55 minutes by bus to Kyoto.

Getting around: Buses are easy and inexpensive. Enter in the rear, take a ticket, pay when leaving at the front. Exact change is required, but there are change machines by the driver. At the Tourist Information Center, ask for a city map and the ``Kyoto Transportation Guide.'' Taxis are expensive and can be slow in traffic.

Where to stay: Kyoto has a vast range of accommodations, from Western-style hotels to Japanese inns (ryokan). The Kyoto area code is 75. Prices will vary according to the exchange rate. A few suggestions from most to least expensive: Tawara-ya Ryokan, telephone 211-5566. Miyako Hotel, (near Nanzen-ji), 771-7111. Kyoto Grand Hotel, 341-2311. Hotel Fujita Kyoto, 222-1511. Kyoto Gion Hotel, 555-2111. Iwanami Ryokan, 561-7135. Kyoto Traveler's Inn, 771-0225. Nashinoki, 241-1543.

Fodor's and Frommer's guidebooks to Japan have good choices in each section of the city. Call the Japanese National Tourist Organization at 212-757-5641 for information about Welcome Inn accommodations. Ask for the ``Japanese Inn Group'' brochure.

Where to eat: Although dining can be expensive, it need not be. Noodle shops serve delicious meals for under $10. Numerous modest restaurants serve domburi -- bowls of rice topped with chicken, meat, or fish at similar prices. Plastic replicas of dishes with prices are usually displayed outside restaurants. Select and point. Okutan is an excellent restaurant in the Nanzen-ji Temple grounds serving a set menu. Call 771-8709. Junsei, near the temple, for vegetarian dishes; 761-2311. In Maruyama Park, try Imobo Hiranoya Honten for local specialities; 561-1603. Minokichi Honten is an extremely expensive restaurant north of the park serving beautifully arranged dishes; 771-4185. Noodle shops abound in the Sanenzaki area and the streets leading to the temples. Omen (761-8926) is one near Ginkaku-ji. The Ashiya Steak House (541-7961) is near Kiyomizu Temple.

When to go: Spring and fall are best. Summers can be hot, humid, and crowded. For those who don't mind temperatures in the 30s and 40s, winters are much less congested.

Recommended reading: ``Japan Inside Out'' by Jay, Sumi & Garet Gluck (Weatherhill Publishing) is a 1,315-page personalized guide crammed with useful information. ``Gateway to Japan'' by Kinoshita & Palevsky (Kodansha Publishing) is a beautifully organized guide with a useful star rating system. Also from Kodansha, Diane Durston's ``Old Kyoto: A Guide to Traditional Shops, Restaurants, and Inns.'' Fodor's ``Japan'' is a complete guidebook with excellent itineraries. The Moon ``Japan Handbook'' was awarded the Lowell Thomas ``Best Guidebook'' award.

Japanese National Tourist Organization: Offices include one at 1 Rockefeller Plaza, Suite 1250, New York, NY 10020, telephone 212 757-5641.

The Kyoto Tourist Information Center: It's on the first floor of the Kyoto Tower building, Higashi-Shrokojicho, Shimogyo-ku. Telephone 011-81-75-371-5649. Ask for ``Walking Tour Courses in Kyoto,'' the ``Kyoto Monthly Guide,'' and the ``Kyoto Visitor's Guide.'' Japan Travel Phone Is a toll-free telephone service for English language assistance and travel information. In Kyoto, call 371-5649.

Free guides: For a Good Samaritan Guide, Contact the Tourist Information Center. Pay only for various admission fees, transportion (including the fare between the guide's home and the information center) and lunch. Guides may also be available from JIB (361-7241), Fujiti (222-0121) and Kinki Nippon Tourist (222-1224).

Grouptours to Kyoto: Esprit Travel (800-377-7481) offers 12-day ``Kyoto Walking Tours'' in spring and fall. The cost, which was $2,850, includes air from Los Angeles, accommodations in Japanese inns and most breakfasts and dinners in local restaurants.

Journeys East (800-527-2612) includes Kyoto on its 15-day ``Brushes with Inner Japan'' and ``From Farmhouse to Teahouse'' trips. The cost was $4,085, not including air.