Daitoku-ji is less a temple than a walled town of them — two dozen Zen subtemples behind white walls, most of them closed, strung along raked-gravel lanes under old pines. The closed gates are not the disappointment; the lanes between them are the walk, and they are the quietest ground in the city.
From Kitaoji, ten minutes west to the main gate, then simply wander. There are almost no signs and almost no people. Of the subtemples that do open, Daisen-in is the one to pay for — a dry garden read as a river of gravel running from stone mountains to a stone sea, small enough to take in from one cushion. Koto-in, when its gate is open, has the loveliest approach in Kyoto: a maple avenue to a single composition of moss and a lantern. If it's shut, Ryogen-in keeps five small gardens open year-round.
Leave by the north gate toward Imamiya-jinja and the aburi-mochi (grilled rice cake) shops at its gate, or turn back to Kitaoji on the Karasuma line.
