The Kyoto FOMO Trap: Why You Will Never See "Enough" (And Why That’s a Good Thing)

If you spend any time on travel forums or Reddit threads about Japan, you will see the same question asked, with increasing desperation, almost weekly:

‍"Is [X number of] days enough to see everything Kyoto has to offer?"

‍The question itself reveals the central anxiety of modern travel: The Fear Of Missing Out.

We treat cities like scavenger hunts. We arrive armed with spreadsheets and saved Instagram posts, Google Maps with hundred of pins, determined to optimise every hour. We sprint from the Arashiyama the Bamboo Forest to Fushimi Inari, battling crowds, sweating through our shirts, terrified that if we miss one temple, we haven’t "done" Kyoto correctly.

I live here, and I have some bad news for you. A few days is not enough. A few years is not even enough. You will never see everything.

And once you accept that, a wonderful thing happens. You become free.

Anthony Bourdain famously railed against the "checklist" approach to travel, particularly in cities like Paris. He argued that by frantically chasing landmarks, you miss the actual city—the rhythm of daily life, the accidental discoveries, the quiet moments sitting in a cafe doing absolutely nothing but watching the world spin by.

Kyoto is no different. In fact, the contrast here is even starker. The major tourist sites are often deafeningly loud and crowded. But walk two streets over, and you can find profound, ancient silence.

If you want to experience the real Kyoto, you have to be willing to miss the "famous" Kyoto. You have to trade FOMO for JOMO—the Joy of Missing Out.

So, how do you break the cycle? You have to stop acting like a tourist and start acting a bit more like a local who has the day off.

‍Get lost on purpose. Pick a random subway station in a residential area, get off, and just walk. Find a small neighborhood coffee shop—not a chain—and sit outside for an hour. Watch the school kids walk home. Adventure down a random alleyway. Watch the elderly tending to their gardens. Sit on the river with a small picnic (but please be careful of the Black Kites flying overhead!). That is Kyoto.

‍Find joy in the small things. Instead of rushing across the city to the biggest temple, find the smallest neighbourhood shrine and admire the moss on the stone lanterns there.

‍Do one unique thing deeply, instead of ten things shallowly. This is why I started my sound tours. They are designed as an antidote to travel anxiety. For a few hours, we don't rush. We don't worry about what we are missing. We put on headphones, slow our breathing, and tune into the immediate environment of Kyoto.

A sound walk forces you to be present. You aren't worrying about the next stop on your itinerary because you are too busy listening to the astonishing rhythm of a textile loom in a Nishijin alleyway, or the sound of wind moving through bamboo.

When you look back on your trip years from now, you won't remember the stress of jockeying for a photo position at a crowded landmark. You will remember the quiet afternoon you spent lost in a suburb, or the hour you spent truly listening to the city.

Give yourself permission to miss out. Kyoto will reward you for it.