Travel at extraordinary times leads to extraordinary moments. Traveling across continents in March 2020, when the world was struggling with an unknown virus, was ambitious enough, but traveling to Japan set the bar even higher. The first wave of the Covid-19 virus spreading from Asia was just entering Japan, and tourists were starting to leave the country. As a person who doesn't like to break plans, I decided to make this trip not only in opposition to the virus but also to the fear hanging in the air. Masks and disinfectants suddenly became my companions. A new system of travel was being established.After Osaka&nbsp;and&nbsp;Hiroshima, I set my sights on Kyoto. The first thing I noticed in the country was that the streets famous for their crowds were deserted. It was not only the crowds of tourists that disappeared, the Japanese, already known as a timid and cautious nation, preferred to stay at home. Since they hadn't started working from home yet, they established a routine from home to work and from work to home without socializing. What could be described as a shortcoming for a first-time visitor to the country became an advantage since this was my second time in Japan. I didn't have to wait for seats in restaurants, I didn't have to wait in long lines, I traveled on quiet trains and wandered peacefully around places I wouldn't normally get to see empty.To take advantage of the situation, I take a morning in Kyoto to visit the Arashiyama bamboo forest.&nbsp;To cement my status as a privileged tourist, I enter a kimono rental shop before going in. The process is quite elaborate. Even with help, it takes a lot of time and effort to put on the kimono. Finally, I am back on the streets in a red and navy-blue kimono, but there is a small problem: I am not used to walking in flip-flop clogs. As I get closer to the bamboo forest, I get used to walking in a kimono and flip-flops. I slow down a bit and start to take smaller steps. The outfit forces me to calm down. It allows me to stop walking like I'm rushing and enjoy the journey.<img src="https://images.aposto.com/2022/6/4/1658996042905.jpeg" style="display: block; float: none; vertical-align: top; margin: 5px auto; text-align: center; width: 100%; max-width: 550px; border-style: none; position: relative; cursor: pointer; padding: 0px 1px; box-sizing: border-box;" ratio="0.75" width="550" fr-original-style="display: block; float: none; vertical-align: top; margin: 5px auto; text-align: center; width: 100%; max-width: 550px;" fr-original-class="fr-draggable">As I calmly move into the forest, two Japanese women in kimonos appear in front of me. They walk with graceful steps. Apart from the electronic gadgets on us, we’re just like the people in Kyoto hundreds of years ago. I follow them into the forest. The tall bamboos are even greener because of the morning rain.I walk calmly through the mystical forest and enjoy nature. The Japanese concept of shinrin-yoku&nbsp;comes to mind. This concept, which can be briefly translated as forest bathing, actually means healing spiritually and physically by integrating with nature and connecting with it. At that moment, my shrinking steps and the empty forest do just that. I am isolated from the chaotic world, unaware that the whole world is about to change. Somehow, I am cleansed of any disturbances. My mind floats in a peaceful space. Even though the process takes a very short time, I come back down to earth with great energy. I wander a little more in the forest, watching a few tourists and the Japanese people.Everyone will have many stories to tell about the virus. &nbsp;Mine comes from an unexpected place. The virus introduces me to the healing power of taking refuge in nature. With small and calm steps, I begin to make my way back from the forest. I say goodbye to the giant bamboos and thank them for the fairytale moment. On the way, I think about the evolution of an ordinary tourist visit into an extraordinary personal experience. Time to go back through the time tunnel. Each layer I take off in the booth of the kimono rental shop represents a century that brings me to the present. As I tie my shoes, I land in the present, and when I step outside, it's pouring. The wonderland I fell into one morning in Kyoto is coming to an end. I take out my umbrella and step onto the sidewalk to find a new adventure.<img src="https://images.aposto.com/2022/6/4/1658996276707.jpeg" style="display: block; float: none; vertical-align: top; margin: 5px auto; text-align: center; width: 100%; max-width: 550px; border-style: none; position: relative; cursor: pointer; padding: 0px 1px; box-sizing: border-box;" ratio="0.80" width="550" fr-original-style="display: block; float: none; vertical-align: top; margin: 5px auto; text-align: center; width: 100%; max-width: 550px;" fr-original-class="fr-draggable">

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