It’s been more than 30 years since I first visited Kyoto. Since that time, the dynamic of Japanese society has changed dramatically, yet the extraordinary aesthetics of the country’s ancient capital still stun the senses.

There’s good reason why Kyoto is regarded as the jewel in Japan’s cultural crown. With more than 2,000 temples, some of the world’s finest gardens and no fewer than 17 World Heritage sites, Kyoto offers an almost overwhelming visual smorgasbord. But on this journey I was determined to seek out some of the city’s hidden treasures, which, I had been told, reveal a great deal about the Japanese way of life.

Arriving in Kyoto can be a bit of a letdown, as the city’s charms are not immediately apparent. My first glimpses of the landscape were of a bland, modern, urban landscape. Only later did Kyoto’s many hidden gems come to light.

I returned to Kyoto partly in response to the 2005 film Memoirs of a Geisha. Based on Arthur Golden’s 1997 novel, the movie lavishly re-creates the world of the maiko, young ladies in training to become geisha. While some critics panned the film, its authenticity and attention to detail make it a must-see for anyone planning to visit Kyoto. In the movie, a young maiko, Sayuri, ventures out onto the rooftops of Kyoto where she encounters a rustic 1930s cityscape, parts of which remain unchanged today. The Goju-no-to pagoda of Toji Temple, shown in the movie resplendent against the setting sun, still stands near Kyoto’s main rail station — and remains the tallest wooden structure in all of Japan.

While Toji Temple is off most tourist itineraries, I find it the most intriguing place in the city. The esoteric form of Japanese Buddhism, which has its roots at Toji Temple, has attracted followers from business and government with its emphasis on the harmony of wisdom and action. At the Temple’s associate mountaintop shrine of Koyasan, memorials constructed by Sharp, Toyota and National Panasonic vie for space with a 50-foot-high shining aluminum replica of a rocket, erected by a Japanese aerospace company.

The Zen gardens of Ryoanji Temple, also featured in the movie Memoirs of a Geisha, include Karé-sansui, a stone garden constructed of large rocks set in a sea of sand and pebbles. A peaceful place for silent meditation, the garden invites comparison to sublime seascapes, or perhaps a preview of some heavenly realm.

After trying unsuccessfully to meditate, and fearful of disturbing others, I tiptoed gingerly away, but I took with me a new awareness as I noticed a gardener carefully raking leaves, making neat, swirling patterns that resembled the water patterns in the Ryoanji stone garden. In another case, I watched white-gloved concrete workers constructing a path through a city park. Materials were neatly laid out in rows, the sand, gravel and cement all carefully measured as though an ounce too much of one ingredient would detract from perfection.

Similar perfection can be seen in the massive stonemasonry of Nijo Castle, built in the early 1600s on the orders of Tokugawa (the true-life inspiration for James Clavell’s novel, Shogun). The audience room of the castle, where the shogun once received powerful daimyos (regional warlords), is a riot of ornamental gold leaf adorning lacquer-coated carved cypress panels.

But it is the temples and shrines that give Kyoto its distinctiveness. Formerly known as Heiankyo, Kyoto was established as Japan’s capital in 794 A.D. and it retained that distinction until the late 1860s, when Tokyo became the capital. Even so, Kyoto, which is the capital of Kyoto Prefecture, remains Japan’s cultural capital in many eyes. At Heian Shrine, built in downtown Kyoto during the late 19th century to mark the city’s 1,100th birthday, I nearly got lost in the shrine’s extensive grounds, known as Okazaki Park, which contains museums, ornamental pools and even a zoo.

As I trod the steep path leadi ng up to Kiyomizu Temple, I entered another world: Pure Edo-era Japan in a street scene that could have been stolen straight from the sets of Memoirs of a Geisha. Kiyomizu Temple is a vast complex of shrines and pagodas built into a hillside, with commanding views over Kyoto. The name Kiyomizu means “Temple of Pure Water,” and a prime reason for visiting the complex is to take the sacred waters of the Otowa-no-Taki Falls. Visitors line up to drink from one of three springs, the waters from which are said to benefit respectively the body, speech and mind.

Dinner in Kyoto offers a tantalizing insight into the Japanese world of aesthetics, summed up best by Kyoto native Kimiko Harada: “Japanese people like to eat first of all with their eyes, and only then with their mouths.”

A specialty of Kyoto, a Kaiseki banquet features 18 or more dishes, each prepared and presented in a manner that would please even Picasso or Renoir. The culinary roster ranges from fish to tofu to duck to vegetable palate-pleasers served in leisurely succession. The finale, a dessert of sesame mousse with persimmon, transported my taste buds to another galaxy.

Sated, I adjourned to what many consider to be one of the most intriguing parts of Kyoto, the Gion Quarter. In the 17th century, the Gion became known for its chaya (tea houses) where guests could reserve private rooms to get to know the chaya onna (waitresses) on an intimate basis. In those days the geisha of the Gion considered themselves superior to the chaya onna, creating the social strata chronicled in Memoirs of a Geisha.

Today, the Gion is more subdued than in the past, but the chaya still number more than a hundred (though they are closed to casual visitors). The kabuki theaters and shrines are also still here — together with an ever-present sense of intrigue and mystery.