Until a couple of years ago, negotiating the hill leading to one of Kyoto’s most popular temples would have tested the patience of a Buddhist saint. The arrival of yet another coachload of sightseers would send pedestrians fleeing to narrow paths already clogged with meandering visitors on their way to Kiyomizu-dera.
That was before Covid-19. Today, the cacophony of English and Chinese, and a smattering of other European and Asian languages, has been replaced by the chatter of Japanese children on school excursions. Shops selling souvenirs and wagashi sweets are almost empty, their unoccupied staff perhaps reminiscing about more lucrative times.
Two years into the pandemic, some of the ancient capital’s residents admit that they have learned to embrace life without foreign visitors, who were once welcomed for the money they ploughed into the local economy and resented for their cultural faux pas and, in some cases, staggering bad manners.
The global boom in Japanese pop culture and cuisine, a weaker yen and fading memories of the March 2011 nuclear disaster in Fukushima turned the country into a tourism success story. In 2019, a record 31 million people visited from overseas – an estimated 8 million of them including Kyoto in their itinerary.
Buoyed up by its successful bid to host the 2020 summer Olympics, the government set an ambitious target – to which it continues to cling – of 60 million overseas visitors by the end of this decade.
But after two years of the toughest borders restrictions in the world, Japan’s tourist boom feels as if it belongs to a different age.
By last year, the gains of the previous decade had been wiped out, first by the arrival of the coronavirus, then by new waves that forced the government to abandon plans for a gradual opening up to tourists and other people from overseas. Just 245,900 foreign visitors arrived in Japan in 2021, according to the tourism agency, a drop of 99.2% from pre-pandemic levels.
“It feels very different now,” said the owner of an ice-cream shop near Kiyomizu temple. “There used to be lots of foreign tourists, but now it’s almost empty.”
Despite the loss of revenue, Kyoto residents are divided over the eventual return of significant numbers of overseas visitors.
It wasn’t long ago that the city was at the centre of a backlash against “tourism pollution”. Signs were erected in the Gion district warning visitors against trespassing and – a common complaint – pestering passing geiko and maiko entertainers for selfies as they walked to their evening teahouse appointments.
Traffic clogged popular sightseeing spots, while locals struggled to find space on buses crammed with tourists and their luggage. Restaurateurs railed against tourists who made group reservations but failed to turn up.
For now, Kyoto’s tourist economy is dependent on domestic visitors, whose presence ebbs and flows in lockstep with measures to contain the latest wave of coronavirus infections.
Mari Samejima is among the local businesspeople who are eager for the return of the bakugai – explosive buying – unleashed by free-spending parties of Chinese tourists who descended on Kyoto before the pandemic.
“They spent a lot of money here,” said Samejima, who runs a gift shop. “I understand why some people are hesitant about a return to those days – and I have my own doubts – but I’d prefer to see foreign tourists again.”
The number of customers at Yoshinobu Yoshida’s shop, which sells Kyô sensu folding fans, has slumped by as much as 60% over the past two years. “I don’t know what we’ll do if it carries on like this,” said Yoshida, whose shop has stood on the same spot near Kiyomizu for a century. “If I’m honest, I can’t see it returning to normal for another few years.”
With the Omicron surge yet to reach its peak, and Japan’s government showing little enthusiasm for lifting its travel ban, few expect foreign tourists to return to Kyoto soon. And when they do, the numbers are expected to be a fraction of those before the pandemic.
That may not be a bad thing, according to Tomoko Nagatsuka, who remembers hearing more Chinese than Japanese being spoken in her cafe, where weary tourists recharge with green tea and traditional sweets.
“Kyoto isn’t a particularly big city, so too many foreign tourists put pressure on things like public transport,” she said. “They were great for business, but it was difficult to live a normal life with so many of them milling around. Part of me really wants them back, but another part of me loves the peace and quiet.”
