It's hard to know where to start writing about Shirakawa-go, the remote moutain village that we visited during our trip. Declared a UNESCO world heritage site in 1995, it's famous for its traditional gassho-zukuri farmhouses, some of which are more than 250 years old.
Gassho-zukuri means "constructed like hands in prayer", as the farmhouses' steep thatched roofs resemble the hands of Buddhist monks pressed together in prayer. The style aims to withstand the large amounts of heavy snow that fall in the region during winter. The snow slides off the steep roofs before it can crush them.
As I walked through this little town with 1,000 other tourists, I couldn't help but wonder how they didn't resent us—but then I started noticing the (literal) signs. No cars in various areas. The entire parking lot and access point closed to the outside world after 5pm. We were welcome, but only to a point. It was a lesson in boundaries. They didn't resent us because they knew where their line was between inviting us in and preserving themselves and their home.
I took enough pictures there to make a small book, and one day I just might. But this one stands out. I watched this Black Kite (the bird on the rooftop) circling for a few minutes before it settled here. It was the one moment that I really stopped and took a breath as we climbed the road to the highest point of the town on foot. When I looked back I was thrilled to see how well it all came together.
Shot at around 100mm, 1/125 seconds, f/8, ISO 100.