The day began with plans for an outdoor ceremony, but the rain gently changed the course of things. Inside Kōdai-ji Jugyuan, the space felt calm and deeply traditional, washi sliding doors, tatami underfoot, and the gardens quietly visible beyond the walls. It was serene in a way that didn’t need explaining. Friends and family had travelled from Hong Kong and Canada, filling the room with warmth that made the weather irrelevant. A gentle tea ceremony slowed everything down, followed by speeches that landed exactly where they needed to. Nothing felt rushed. Nothing felt forced. It was intimate, thoughtful, and deeply felt. The kind of day that stays with you.
The gardens are breathtaking, and there’s a sense that time moves differently there. It feels as though you’ve stepped back into an older Japan. The stones softened by green moss, the trees bent and warped by age. Glass sliding doors let in a gentle wash of light, and the traditional washi paper doors soften it even further, sometimes to the point where it feels almost too dim. That said, we were there on a cloudy day, so I imagine on a clearer one it would strike a more balanced middle ground.
The main ceremony hall was beautiful, though I did notice that the surrounding greenery casts a subtle green tint across the room during the daytime. It’s not a flaw, just something to be aware of. During the reception, the spotlights felt quite direct and a little harsh. I’m not sure how adjustable they are, but it’s worth checking. Standing up there in front of everyone should feel comfortable, and softer lighting can make a quiet but meaningful difference.
