Kyoto's Kiyomizu-dera is one of the most beloved and spectacular temples in Japan, famous for its large wooden stage complex that offers an outstanding view of the city and the maple tree-covered mountainside. The massive platform was constructed upon twelve meter-tall pillars without the use of nails, dependent instead on interlocking wooden joints. A once-popular story claimed that if you leapt from the towering stage of Kiyomizu-dera and survived, your wish or prayer would be granted. Though the act was eventually prohibited after over two hundred people actually attempted the astounding literal leap of faith, the practice is still mentioned as a way to express "going all-in" with a venture, hoping for luck and success even if the odds may not be in your favor. For example, the phrase could be used in reference to taking out one's life savings to start a business or about mustering up the courage to proclaim one's love to a lifetime friend, despite the fear that it could spoil the existing friendship.

Whether managing vacation days or planning a monthly household budget, people prioritize how they spend their time and money in ways that reflect their desires and values. It is jokingly said that Kyoto-ites are willing to splurge to the point of poverty for their love of fashion. Often quoted in the longer expression, "People in Kyoto ruin themselves for clothes. People in Osaka ruin themselves for food", the saying playfully stereotypes how individuals from these different areas prioritize and enjoy different things. Osaka's history as a merchant town gave them a reputation for valuing good food and drink while inhabitants of the ancient capital of Kyoto used high-quality textiles, ornate kimono, and extravagant accessories to serve as markers of wealth, taste, and class. Fancy clothes may have cost a small fortune, but it was all worth it to gain favor with high-ranking individuals or to catch the eye of an admirer at court. Whether the phrase is quoted in admiration or lighthearted jest, Kyoto-ites still have a reputation for their sophisticated taste in fine clothes. So if you suspect your Kyoto friend is low on funds, a quick peek in their closet might reveal where the money is going!

This phrase has a connection to Aoi Matsuri, one of Kyoto's greatest festivals. As part of the preparations for the main festival, a ritual horse racing event known as Kamo Kurabeuma is held at Kamigamo Shrine every year. Historically, spectators would wait in anticipation for the rachi gate that keeps the horses in to open, signaling that the next race would soon commence. Unfortunately, this wait could sometimes take a considerable amount of time, variously explained as time spent waiting for the horses to calm down and become comfortable with their riders or riders bickering between races about who really won. Whatever the original reason, the phrase reflects the audience's collective anxious and impatient feelings as they waited for what seemed like ages for the next race to begin. In everyday interactions, the saying is used when it feels like the conversation is useless or cannot progress because members cannot come to an understanding or compromise.

Some say that this phrase was originally used to describe the actions of religious pilgrims to Kyoto's Kiyomizu-dera temple. The saying refers to a method of worship in which a parishioner continuously circles a temple hall while praying or visits temples several times as a way to show their piety and hope that their prayers will be answered. Over time the phrase came to convey the idea of repeating the same thing over and over and is now used to describe, often with a negative nuance, discussions or meetings that repeatedly cover the same issues or viewpoints and seem to go on forever with no end in sight.

This phrase is related to Kyoto's grandest and most famous festival, Gion Matsuri. Preparations, rituals, and festivities last throughout the month of July, but the mid-month Yamaboko Junkō float procession is the highlight of the festival for many. Likened to moving museums, gigantic floats adorned with intricate tapestries, decorative metalwork, and ornate carvings are pulled through the streets of Kyoto for all to see. Toward the end of the month is the time for Ato Matsuri (latter festival), but the grandiosity of the festivities and the bustling atmosphere are comparatively toned down. While we think the latter festival is still extremely educational and enjoyable, some feel that going at this time is “too late”. These days, the phrase "ato no matsuri" has come to lament or even scold a missed chance. For example, creating an impressively well-written job application but submitting it after the deadline has passed would fall under the category of "ato no matsuri".

The phrase is used when describing the act of marrying into wealth or someone trying to snag a partner who can provide a life of champagne wishes and caviar dreams. It is said that the third Tokugawa shogun, Iemitsu, fell in love with a local woman from Kyoto's Nishijin district, known as Otama, the daughter of a humble grocer. The auspicious affiliation elevated Otama to a high and wealthy social position as the shogun’s mistress and mother of his son, who would eventually become shogun himself. Those who manage to catch a man of wealth due to good luck or careful, strategic planning, are said to ride in a jeweled palanquin. As Otama’s name is written with the Japanese character for “jewel”, the phrase can be read as both a "jeweled" palanquin and as "Otama's" palanquin, a bit of word play befitting her fortuitous fate.

Otama shares a connection with Imamiya Jinja.

This phrase originates from an anecdote in which a man pretended to have visited Kyoto. When asked to share his impression of Shirakawa, the man explained that he traveled down the river by boat in the dark of night and did not have the chance to see much. The questioner chuckled, catching the man in a lie. You see, “kawa” means river, so the man assumed he was being asked about a large traversable river known as the Shirakawa when the question was actually about a neighborhood in Kyoto. Though the Shirakawa area takes its name from a river, it’s far too small to accommodate a passenger vessel like he claimed to have ridden. With that, the lie was exposed and the other person knew the entire story had been made up. In conversation, this phrase is used to describe or call out someone who seems to be feigning knowledge about a topic without having the proper expertise to back up their claims.

These terms are connected to the dramatic world of kabuki theatre. Near the end of each year, huge wooden boards with performers' names are posted outside Minamiza Theatre in Kyoto. A tradition since the Edo period, these signs advertise which actors have been contracted for the next year. The second-listed performer (nimai-me) tended to play young, dashing love interests while the third-listed performer (sanmai-me) would often play lighthearted comedic roles. Due to this pattern, the terms were used to describe actor types and eventually extended beyond their theatrical roots to become shorthand for describing everyday people, especially men. A particularly handsome lad may be referred to as nimai-me, while a sanmai-me man might be great at cracking jokes and making you smile. So if you overhear a group of ladies discussing whether they prefer nimai-me or sanmai-me, they might be kabuki fans, but it's even more likely they are enjoying some juicy gossip about the type of guys that make them swoon.

Chazuke, known as bubuzuke in Kyoto, is a simple dish of hot tea poured over cooked rice and topped with things like salted kelp, fish, pickled plum, and so on. But they say if you are offered some by your host in Kyoto, it might be your cue to head home! A famous rakugo comedy story tells of a man from Osaka who visited the home of an acquaintance in Kyoto. The acquaintance was not yet home, so the man enjoyed many foods and drinks provided by the wife as he waited. Eventually the man decided to try coming back on another day. As he made his way to the front door, the wife offered to make some bubuzuke, a proposal a fellow Kyoto-ite would understand to be a mere gesture of hospitality to be politely turned down. Misreading this social cue, the guest responded, "Oh! I've always wanted to try Kyoto's bubuzuke!" and promptly went back inside. She went to scrape some leftover rice from the kitchen pot, lamenting his inability to read between the lines.

Though the misunderstanding in the story is meant to be a humorous exaggeration, it is rooted in real tendencies found in Kyoto. While indirect communication is par for the course in Japan, beating around the bush is taken to another level in Kyoto, where you are highly encouraged to understand implied meanings. With a long history of wars, struggles for power, and rotating leadership, Kyoto-ites have long known the advantages of showing hospitality to everyone and not stating opinions too directly. After all, the enemy you make today could become your lord tomorrow! Through this unique history, Kyoto people have become famous even amongst fellow Japanese for their ambiguous turns of phrase, which are viewed as everything from elegant and sophisticated to distant and intimidating. Kyō no chazuke or bubuzuke is referenced light-heartedly by people in and out of Kyoto as a tongue-in-cheek way to describe the complex, charming, and sometimes downright confusing social systems of this historic city. When someone is introduced as being from Kyoto, don't be surprised to see some joking trembles of intimidation accompanied by comments like, "Be careful! You know how those Kyoto-ites are... with their bubuzuke and all!"