Nadine Brown

As you continue to wander slowly along the charming cobbled street, a small courtyard to the left catches your eye. The place looks intriguing, with trickling rock-like water features against the walls and a hammock positioned beneath a Japanese maple tree in the center. You open the gate and enter the courtyard, stopping to listen to the sound of water from the fountains.

As you continue to wander slowly along the charming cobbled street, a small courtyard to the left catches your eye. The place looks intriguing, with trickling rock-like water features against the walls and a hammock positioned beneath a Japanese maple tree in the center. You open the gate and enter the courtyard, stopping to listen to the sound of water from the fountains.

As you continue to wander slowly along the charming cobbled street, a small courtyard to the left catches your eye. The place looks intriguing, with trickling rock-like water features against the walls and a hammock positioned beneath a Japanese maple tree in the center. You open the gate and enter the courtyard, stopping to listen to the sound of water from the fountains.

You feel the sound fully relaxing your mind. The maple tree is adorned with twinkling yellow lights, and hooked to the branches, you see tiny paper parasols in a range of colors. There's a wooden shop at the back of the courtyard, with the door partially open. Through the window, you see an elderly man in a blue shirt and white apron, crafting larger versions of the paper parasols.

You feel the sound fully relaxing your mind. The maple tree is adorned with twinkling yellow lights, and hooked to the branches, you see tiny paper parasols in a range of colors. There's a wooden shop at the back of the courtyard, with the door partially open. Through the window, you see an elderly man in a blue shirt and white apron, crafting larger versions of the paper parasols.

You feel the sound fully relaxing your mind. The maple tree is adorned with twinkling yellow lights, and hooked to the branches, you see tiny paper parasols in a range of colors. There's a wooden shop at the back of the courtyard, with the door partially open. Through the window, you see an elderly man in a blue shirt and white apron, crafting larger versions of the paper parasols.

You recognize them as the same ones carried by locals at celebrations and by women dressed in traditional kimonos as they walk the streets of Kyoto. Three of them are on display by the door. The washi paper they are made of is thick to the touch, like a type of parchment. and each one is hand-painted with Japanese poetry, landscapes, flowers or birds.

You recognize them as the same ones carried by locals at celebrations and by women dressed in traditional kimonos as they walk the streets of Kyoto. Three of them are on display by the door. The washi paper they are made of is thick to the touch, like a type of parchment. and each one is hand-painted with Japanese poetry, landscapes, flowers or birds.

You recognize them as the same ones carried by locals at celebrations and by women dressed in traditional kimonos as they walk the streets of Kyoto. Three of them are on display by the door. The washi paper they are made of is thick to the touch, like a type of parchment. and each one is hand-painted with Japanese poetry, landscapes, flowers or birds.

The workshop is dimly lit, and the sound of the street fades away as you step inside. The place is how you always imagined an artist's studio would be. Sun-dried washi paper is stacked in layers on an old wooden table. Behind, shelves on the wall are lined with pots of powdered paint and brushes in different shapes and sizes.

The workshop is dimly lit, and the sound of the street fades away as you step inside. The place is how you always imagined an artist's studio would be. Sun-dried washi paper is stacked in layers on an old wooden table. Behind, shelves on the wall are lined with pots of powdered paint and brushes in different shapes and sizes.

The workshop is dimly lit, and the sound of the street fades away as you step inside. The place is how you always imagined an artist's studio would be. Sun-dried washi paper is stacked in layers on an old wooden table. Behind, shelves on the wall are lined with pots of powdered paint and brushes in different shapes and sizes.

The man is just about to create a new parasol and invites you to watch his process. He explains that the parasols or umbrellas are called wagasar, made in a traditional Kyoto style, and that they are used to protect one from evil spirits and shade one from the sun.

The man is just about to create a new parasol and invites you to watch his process. He explains that the parasols or umbrellas are called wagasar, made in a traditional Kyoto style, and that they are used to protect one from evil spirits and shade one from the sun.

The man is just about to create a new parasol and invites you to watch his process. He explains that the parasols or umbrellas are called wagasar, made in a traditional Kyoto style, and that they are used to protect one from evil spirits and shade one from the sun.

you sit down on a stool and smile as he expertly handcrafts the spokes for the parasol, made from bamboo sourced from a nearby forest. Then he shapes the pieces by hand until they are the desired length and width before soaking them in water and taking them outside to dry in the sun. He then begins to create the parasol and handle.

you sit down on a stool and smile as he expertly handcrafts the spokes for the parasol, made from bamboo sourced from a nearby forest. Then he shapes the pieces by hand until they are the desired length and width before soaking them in water and taking them outside to dry in the sun. He then begins to create the parasol and handle.

you sit down on a stool and smile as he expertly handcrafts the spokes for the parasol, made from bamboo sourced from a nearby forest. Then he shapes the pieces by hand until they are the desired length and width before soaking them in water and taking them outside to dry in the sun. He then begins to create the parasol and handle.

The washi paper, he tells you, comes from the fibers of the gampy tree, which can be found just outside the city. He demonstrates the toughness of the paper by pulling it at either side and says that it's the same paper that people use for the ancient craft of origami.

The washi paper, he tells you, comes from the fibers of the gampy tree, which can be found just outside the city. He demonstrates the toughness of the paper by pulling it at either side and says that it's the same paper that people use for the ancient craft of origami.