Japan -

"Autumn gales drive the moon, its reflection falls on the clear river, cold as a great length of glassy silk", wrote the 12th-century Zen poet, Sesson Yubai.

He might have been perched on the banks of Kyoto's Kamogawa (Kamo River) as he scribbled his ode to Japan's most 'desirable' season. Its wide flowing waters cut a swathe through the ancient capital, dividing the heat and hustle of its downtown precincts from the cool, lofty ambience of its hill-side temple precincts. No-one can fully appreciate both without crossing the Kamogawa at least a half-dozen times.

Many do, but it is usually within the air-conditioned comfort of a tour bus, which means the sights and smells of the city's serene neighbourhoods are sadly missed.

A clean and efficient subway system makes the cross-town dash a breeze, city bus services run to a clockwork schedule, yet only by putting your sole to the pavement can you access Kyoto's true back-street charm.

In Shimogyo district, located in the city's southeast and only a five-minute stroll north from Kyoto train station, daily life can be experienced – intimately and without charge – down its alleys and narrow streets.

Dominating the neighbourhoods are the vast pavilions of Higashi-Honganji, the city's largest wooden temple which dates back to 1602 and is home to the bald brethren of the Jodo Shin school of Buddhism.

The houses surrounding the temple, too, are enduring showpieces of Edo period (1600-1868) architecture. Some weathered abodes are barely able to keep their heavy wooden eves from drooping onto the streets, yet what they lack in modern engineering they more than make up for in old world charm.

Weaving its way through Shimogyo and no wider than a country brook, the Takase River runs parallel to the Kamogawa and passes through the quaint neighbourhood of Gojo-cho. Weeping willows dip into the river and ducks and geese putter between small floating houses, purpose-built by the residents to keep the birds local.

Between occasional typhoons and raucous festivals (see below), Gojo-cho exudes a wonderful peacefulness during the autumn months from September to November. Doorways are left open on warm evenings to catch any passing breeze, noren entrance curtains rustle overhead and behind them you might glimpse the impossibly-cluttered interiors of their owner's living rooms: old men sharing a beer over a TV baseball game, women kneading large tubs of rice dough in preparation for o-mochi cake season, or a baggy-eyed salaryman dozing behind his newspaper after an uneventful day at the office.

Scattered about the narrow alleys, traditional inns, called ryokan, offer meals and lodging to tourists and travelling business folk. During Edo times, the inns of Shimogyo and adjoining Nakagyo district were frequented by samurai and travelling merchants, serving as venues where geisha came to entertain. These days, they still offer both moderately-priced and higher-end accommodation in atmospheric surrounds.

Through it all, homely smells of senko, or incense, waft from household shrines mingling with the constant whiff of old tatami grass mats, sho-yu and fried fish on the breeze.