Bask in old Japan glory

When it comes to deciding where to stay in Japan the choices are lopsided.

If you want modern, the options are overwhelming, from swanky hotels to guesthouses and hostels. If you want traditional, there's one option: a ryokan.

These are family-run inns where guests bathe and eat together and have to be home by midnight so as not to annoy grandma. But in Kyoto - and only in Kyoto - there is a third way. Stay in one of the city's wooden machiya houses and you can bask in old Japan without worrying about waking the old lady upstairs.

These buildings once dominated the streets of Kyoto. Over the centuries many have been destroyed by fires and earthquakes, and many were torn down during post-war reconstruction, as Japan remodelled itself in glass and concrete. But just as they seemed destined to be confined to history's architectural dustbin, they were saved.

The mastermind behind the restoration project is Alex Kerr, an American who first came to Japan as a 12-year-old with his naval officer father in 1964.

Since relocating permanently in 1977 Kerr has devoted his life to the protection of Japan's architectural heritage. His company, Iori, has seven restored machiya on its books, with two more on the way.

The Izumiya-cho machiya, where I'm staying, is stunning. The front of the house has all the machiya trademarks - tiled roof, reed blinds and latticed windows.

The frame of the building is raftered with giant antique beams, floors are laid with tatami mats, and the walls on the ground floor are an earthen compound of clay and straw, with classic paper shoji screens pulled across the entrance to a balcony overlooking the river.

But it's the bathroom that best symbolises what's going on here. On one side, a traditional square cedar bath dominates. After you've poured the water, earthy smells seep from the wood and it feels as if you are in a sauna in the middle of a forest.

Alongside is a boutique hotel-style sink and washing area. The toilet is one of the most baffling things I've come across, with 13 buttons, various automated surprises (use your imagination) and a computerised Japanese voice which makes you feel a million miles away from a sauna in the middle of a forest.

The overall effect is spot on: traditional Japanese surrounds, with modern touches.

When in Japan, you want the neat gadgets, and you can't get much neater than a talking toilet. What you don't get is the cultural crash course that comes with staying at a ryokan - the meals, the robes, the baths, the rules - but this allows you to find your own way at your own pace, albeit with a little help.

Machiyas come with a concierge service, which in Japan, one of the world's most culturally disconcerting places, can be a lifesaver. Depending on your tastes, and your budget, tea ceremonies can be arranged, or a traditional art workshop, or a tour.

Once the capital of Japan, Kyoto is in the core of the Kansai region, the country's cultural and historical heart. But despite being only two hours from Tokyo by bullet train, the cityscape is nowhere near as intimidating, thanks to a municipal law that forbids buildings more than 12 storeys high.In the Gion region of the city antiques fill shop windows, geishas wander the streets between appointments, and, by night, lanterns are lit.

Deciding against organised activities, I set off for a wander. The streets are planned out in a grid system, but, with little English signage, it would be easy to get lost and confused. Thankfully I have an annotated map supplied by Iori, the company that owns the machiya, which makes my life considerably easier.

Nishiki-Koji is a huge covered food market, with hundreds of stores spilling out on to the walkway. The trick, I'm told, is to look out for toothpicks - when one is plonked into a chunk of something, it is yours to sample.

I tasted four varieties of fried tofu in nine varieties of sauce, lumps of pickled plum, honey-roasted sweet potato, and something that tasted like fish but was in fact a type of carrot.

Kimayachi, the street on which my machiya is sited, is the highlight. Its northern stretch is dotted with dodgy-looking dance clubs, bars and restaurants, but south of Shijo-dori, Kyoto's main artery, the atmosphere changes dramatically.

The narrow road is flanked by a canal lined with cherry trees, whose smell competes with wafts of rosewater and tempura escaping from restaurants.

Across the canal are the unmistakable facades of a row of machiyas, staggered in height and stretching into the distance. Alex Kerr isn't the only person to have spotted the potential of the machiyas. Over the past 10 years, a number of businesses, particularly restaurants, have moved into the dwellings rather than follow the previous practice of buying them, razing them, and starting all over again.

The concierge directs me to one of them: Giro Giro Hitoshina (420-7 Nanba-cho, Nishi Kiya-machi-dori). Its speciality is sosaku ryori, a creative, fun reinvention of a traditional cuisine.

Chefs work behind a square counter, lifting lids off steaming pots, dicing vegetables, whisking broths and joshing with the diners sitting on stools around them who make their way through the obligatory 10-course menu with traditional beverages.

The concierge's tip is highly appropriate. In the past, much like the choice between the ryokans and western hotels, eating in Japan was almost bipolar; either formal and traditional, or fast and western. The restaurants found a middle ground some time ago. Now the holiday accommodation is catching up.

l Iori (kyoto-machiya.com) has machiyas sleeping up to 14, from $250 per room based on two sharing.