Around 8:00 AM, as the sky was just beginning to lighten, international students from various countries and universities gathered at Kyoto Station. Although most of us were meeting each other for the first time, the atmosphere of “we’re about to embark on a special day together” naturally created a relaxed atmosphere. The bus ride to Toei Kyoto Studio Park felt like the opening scene of a movie, and I was excited to see what was to come. I was
particularly impressed by a young woman from Chile who joined my team. She came to Japan at age 38, started a new life in an unfamiliar language, and is now pursuing a career in design. She exuded a strong will despite her quiet demeanor, and I was deeply moved by her earnest dedication to listening intently to explanations in Japanese and participating in discussions.
Once the game actually began, the real challenge began. While the “locked room escape” I experienced in China involved escaping a room while searching for a hidden trick, Japanese “puzzle games” are completely different. Edo-period streets, samurai residences, movie sets, NPCs…everything became the stage for solving the puzzle, making it feel like “battling wits in the world of a period drama.”
The biggest hurdle, of course, was the Japanese language. Hints, dialogue, and explanations were all in Japanese. Many of the words were new to me, and the puzzles, which used wordplay and cultural assumptions, were even more difficult to understand. But then, thanks to a Japanese girl on my team who patiently explained the meanings, I was able to regain my footing. And the thrill of finally arriving at the answer—”That’s it!”—remained in my heart as a sense of accomplishment that transcended the language barrier.
Japanese puzzle-solving games use the mind, not the body. Rather than searching for tricks, you decipher words and ideas. It wasn’t just a game; it was a comprehensive experience that challenged cultural understanding and language.
Sweating, we ran around, discussed, reasoned, failed, and tried again. When the entire team finally cleared the puzzle, there was a genuine connection that transcended nationality and native language.

After finishing the puzzle-solving game, we got back on the bus and headed to Arashiyama. The atmosphere inside the bus instantly became relaxed, and I got into a lively conversation with a Japanese girl about TV dramas and actors. She said, “I love Zhao Lusi (a Chinese actress),” so I recommended the latest drama, “Xiu Wang Yin.” We then talked about our mutual favorites, including Masaki Suda, Kenshi Yonezu, and Mrs. Green Apple.
Upon arriving at Tenryu-ji Temple, I entered the lecture hall and listened to the head priest’s talk. As I walked through the hall, gazing up at the cloud dragon painting on the ceiling, I felt the dragon’s gaze follow me wherever I went. It had a mysterious power, and I could truly understand why it’s called the “dragon that gazes in all directions.”
The head priest explained why dragons have been painted in temple lecture halls.
Dragons have long been a symbol of protection for Buddhism and a guardian of wooden lecture halls from fires. The Cloud Dragon painting at Tenryuji Temple was painted by Kayama Matazo, and the dragon is a rare five-clawed dragon in Japan. Originally, five-clawed dragons were the highest symbol of the Chinese emperor and the Japanese emperor, and until the Meiji period, they were avoided in Japan as a design. However, when the new painting was created in the Heisei era, the five-clawed design was deliberately chosen. The decision was made because times have changed and there is no need to simply adhere to old values.
When I heard this story, I suddenly thought, “This is not just a story about Tenryuji Temple.” Culture is passed down, but it is also renewed with the times. And we, “people living in a different culture,” are also constantly changing.

The words of the head priest left a deep impression on me: “Everything has cause and effect. You should not judge things based solely on what you can see.”

We tend to reach conclusions based solely on what we can see at the moment. However, understanding is the attitude of wanting to understand the reasons behind it. As I listened to the sound of the wind caressing the dry landscape garden, I realized that during my time studying abroad, I too had gradually developed the ability to see behind the appearance.