Nara lives in the shadow of its grand temples, Todai-ji and Kofuku-ji, but Gango-ji is the one with the best sense of age. It started life in Asuka, in the late sixth century, as Asuka-dera, the first true Buddhist temple in Japan, founded by the powerful Soga clan. When the capital moved to Heijo-kyo in the early eighth century, the monks followed, and the temple was rebuilt on a new site in what is now the Naramachi district, with some of the original roof tiles carried across the plain and reused. You can still pick out the older, darker tiles on the roof of the main hall, a faint line of continuity across thirteen centuries.
The surroundings are Naramachi's old merchant streets, lined with narrow wooden townhouses with latticed windows, most of them now tiny shops, cafes and guesthouses. It is nothing like the broad avenues and deer parks of the main sights, and for that reason it is a good place to leave the bike in a car park and walk. The temple grounds are small, quiet and a little ragged in a way that is entirely appealing, with stone Buddhas under the trees and a lotus pond that catches the light in summer.
Riding in Nara city is slow and constrained. The roads are narrow, one-way in places, and the deer, which are famously sacred and famously aggressive about snacks, wander into traffic near the park. Parking a motorcycle in the old town is difficult, so use a car park on the edge. Once you are out of town, the Yamanobe-no-michi, one of the oldest roads in Japan, runs toward Tenri along the foot of the hills, and the back lanes through the persimmon and rice country of the Nara basin are a delight in autumn.
Nara-shi has plenty of fuel and any number of convenience stores and noodle shops. For a local treat, try kakinoha-zushi, the persimmon-leaf-wrapped sushi from this part of Japan, and Nara's pickles, which have been around for centuries. Spring and autumn are the best seasons; July and August are sticky and hot.