Capital: Tokyo … 125,700,000 People … 377,973 km² 
The Country
Nestled in the heart of East Asia, Japan beckons with a rich tapestry of history and modernity. From the tranquil gardens of Kyoto to the electric pulse of Tokyo, this archipelago captivates visitors with a unique blend of tradition and innovation.
Fun Facts
Japan is home to the world's oldest company: a hotel that dates back 1,300 years.
There is one vending machine for every 23 people in Japan.
Japan consists of approximately 14,125 islands. 7,000 new islands were discovered in 2023.
My Experience
Day 1
After more than 10 hours in the air, fully sedated with in-flight entertainment and three surprisingly filling meals, we began our descent into Narita International Airport. As my first long-haul solo trip, I felt a flurry of emotions. The safety net of having a partner or friend was thousands of kilometres away - was I going to forget something? Was I going to get into a situation I couldn’t get out of? To be completely honest, I was a bit nervous. But the excitement of travelling quickly diminished any feelings of self-doubt.
As I left the plane, I was greeted with murals of Mario characters welcoming travellers to Japan. The heat of the day seeped into the airport as I began the trek from the gate to border control. Hundreds of travellers calmly queued to pass through immigration, and after a quick biometric scan and stamp on the passport, I had successfully passed my first hurdle.
Thanks to the help of every sign I saw being translated into English, I eventually arrived at a subway station beneath the airport. After navigating through dense crowds of people, I arrived at the Japan Rail Service Centre. I had booked a 7-day JR Rail Pass: an unlimited ticket to use on certain subways and bullet trains throughout the country. As I collected my pass, I was told numerous times that lost passes could not be refunded. Treat it like a passport. The JR Pass included the use of an express train from Narita Airport to Tokyo, so I gathered my things and made my way to the train.
The station was nearly empty; a stark contrast from outside the JR Service Centre. After a few minutes of watching the train get cleaned and disinfected, a rubber gate descended and passengers were allowed on board. Spotless would be an understatement; the train looked as if it had never been used. As I leaned back on the almost empty train, I watched the lush Japanese countryside roll by, speckled with a few houses and even a cutout of Totoro hiding within a forest. After a while, noble homes on massive farms became sprawling apartment buildings with neon billboards. After only an hour on the train, I arrived at Tokyo Station at sunset.
More than 100 years old, Tokyo Station sees more than 500,000 passengers each day. As I left the train I could see how that number wasn’t an overstatement. I weaved through a constant flow of travellers coming from all directions. I was surprised that there was seemingly no method to the madness. No order whatsoever. After a short walk from Tokyo Station, I arrived at my hotel. After being offered a wide selection of pillows in the lobby, I picked two attractive options and found my way to the room. Quickly dropping off my bags I made my way back to the East entrance to Tokyo Station. Although the sun had set, and salarymen were scurrying home (or to bars nestled throughout Tokyo Station), I fought my way back through the crowds to Marunouchi Square.
Just outside Tokyo Station’s central exit, Marunouchi Square is a granite-paved square with perfectly manicured lawns. Small groups of people gathered throughout the area; a stark contrast from inside Tokyo Station. After some time wandering around the square, and feeling more awake than ever with jet lag on my side, I wandered into the night towards the Imperial Palace.
One great advantage of sightseeing at night is you can avoid large crowds. The downside, unsurprisingly, is you can’t see much around you. I found myself alone walking along moats and viewing the dimly lit gates and structures. Although I couldn’t see everything, the serenity of the Imperial Palace at night was incomparable. In the world’s largest city, I had found a perfect moment of tranquillity.
Ready to face crowds once again, I began walking back to Tokyo Station. In the span of 10 minutes, I saw three separate couples getting wedding photos taken, all near a brightly lit street. It was Marunouchi Street Park, a pedestrian walkway filled with live music. After enjoying a harpist and walking past boutique shops, I walked back to Tokyo Station and descended into the lower levels in search of one thing: ramen.
I thought that later in the evening, Tokyo Station would be less busy. I was wrong. Somehow, it was busier at 8 p.m. than it was at 5 p.m. Despite the crowds, I was on the hunt for Ramen Street, a collection of ramen shops in one of the lower levels of the train station. Unfortunately for me, my once advantageous jet lag had become an obstacle to my ramen journey. Maps slowly stopped making sense, and I aimlessly wandered the expansive underground labyrinth.
After longer than I’d like to admit, I found Ramen Street: a hallway lined with small ramen restaurants. After choosing one at random, and placing my order through a vending machine, I was given two tickets and invited inside. Filled with Japanese workers and families, I sat in a small booth directly in front of another patron while doing our best to avoid eye contact. After handing a sever my tickets and waiting a few minutes, my order had arrived: a hot bowl of pork bone ramen and Suntory Whisky highball. Without a doubt, this was the creamiest, richest ramen I have ever enjoyed. My small table was filled with varying sauces and powders labelled with the inviting phrase “Enjoy the changing taste!”. Kelp vinegar and kelp soy sauce added unique flavours to the ramen, and I indeed enjoyed the changing taste.
With a stomach full of ramen and whisky, and realizing I had been awake for nearly 30 hours, it was time to navigate through Tokyo Station’s underground in search of the surface. I walked back to my hotel as night had set over the city, and after being offered more custom pillows, I finally got some sleep (after watching great Japanese TV and commercials).
Day 2
With only one full day planned in Tokyo, I knew I had to make every second count. I left my hotel bright and early to head back to Tokyo Station, facing rush hour in Tokyo to board the Yamanote Line - a loop around the city. Unfortunately, the first train I boarded got so busy, that I was physically pushed off at the next stop, unable to get back on before the the doors closed. The bright side was the next train arrived in less than three minutes, and I was back on my way.
Exiting Shimbashi station, I walked south (occasionally cutting through office buildings) before arriving at Tsukiji Fish Market, once the largest seafood market in the world. Is there anything better than the smell of fish at 7 in the morning?
Surprisingly, the outer market was incredibly clean and had a noticeable lack of fishy aromas. Small food stands and general stores were serving locals and tourists alike while businesses were purchasing large quantities of food and piling them into trucks. With such variety, I would often go to where the locals had queued to find not-so-hidden gems. The first gem was a Japanese omelette served on a stick, made to order. For about $1.50 I indulged in the best omelette I have ever had (in a fish market, no less). Wandering deeper into the market, I tried free samples of dried squid and enjoyed the hustle and bustle of an early morning market.
Deciding to skip the rush hour trains, I walked through the streets of Shinbashi towards the Zōjō-ji Temple, a Buddhist temple built in the 1620s. Located near the base of Tokyo Tower, it was incredibly easy to find by using the tower as a landmark. As I arrived at the Zojo-ji Sange Datsumon Gate, I noticed people around me were standing perfectly still. It was as if everyone was frozen in time. After a few moments of eeriness, a woman came up to me to politely explain I had just walked into a film set. Behind me was a full film crew with multiple cameras and a crew of workers. Luckily they were in between scenes when I arrived, so I had a few moments to walk up to the temple before they began filming (or so I thought - they yelled action as I was walking up the stairs, so I’m almost positive I’m in the background of a Japanese television show).
Walking into the temple was an instantly calming experience (because Tokyo was 32°C that day and the temple had multiple fans running). The main hall featured the Amida Buddha statue built in the Muromachi period from 1336 to 1573, and multiple gold chandeliers hung from the ceiling.
Just outside the temple, hundreds of small statues adorned with knitted hats were lined throughout a garden. Sentai Kosodate Jizō, the Unborn Children Garden, honours children who passed away before they were born. Small gifts were beside many of the statues intended for Jizō, the guardian of unborn children. Walking through the Cemetery for Tokugawa Shoguns and up a small hill, I entered the gate of Tokyo Tower.
Reminiscent of the Eiffel Tower, Tokyo Tower is the second largest structure in Japan. I walked through the empty lobby before taking a high-speed elevator to the top of the tower. For the first time since I had arrived, I was able to see how massive Tokyo truly is. Buildings sprawled as far as I could see, with skyscrapers jutting out from multiple neighbourhoods. Walking around the observation deck, I found a mailbox offering to stamp outgoing letters with a unique Tokyo Tower stamp. After writing and sending letters to my parents and my girlfriend Kelsey, I took some more time to look out over Tokyo before heading back down.
Safely after rush hour, I walked to Hamamatsuchō Station to catch a train to Shibuya Station. Searching for a view of Shibuya Scramble Crossing, I wandered through high-rise office buildings before eventually finding Shibuya Hikarie, a 33-storey building with a perfect view overlooking Shibuya. As the busiest pedestrian crossing in the world, Shibuya Scramble often sees as many as 3,000 people crossing each time. Although I was visiting at noon on a Tuesday, I saw hundreds of people crossing every two minutes.
Descending to the ground and walking towards Shibuya Scramble, I took a seat next to the statue of Hachikō, a dog that waited for his owner at Shibuya Station for nine years after his owner's death. Although Hachikō passed away nearly 100 years ago, there was a long line of visitors waiting to pet the statue.
Walking across the Shibuya Scramble Crossing myself, it somehow felt chaotic and orderly at the same time. The heat of the day was starting to climb, so I took a quick break for a Yuzu Citrus and Tea overlooking the crossing. After a few minutes of cooling off, it was time to hop back on the Yamanote Line towards Harajuku Station.
Nestled in trees and anime murals, Harajuku Station exited onto Takeshita Street, the fashion hub of Tokyo. Filled with vintage clothes and unique accessories, I wandered around finding souvenirs for friends and family (while frequently jumping into air-conditioned stores to cool off). I was surprised to see the amount of American brands in all the stores and the extraordinarily high prices of vintage shirts and pants. Priced out of almost everything, I picked up a few handmade magnets before continuing along.
Each time I boarded a train, I always found a moment of peace. Even if the train was crowded, it was always clean and quiet. The views of Tokyo passing by, with the variety of each neighbourhood becoming more and more apparent, was one of my favourite experiences.
The next stop was Shinjuku Station, the busiest train station in the world. With more than 3.5 million passengers each day, and more than a billion every year, I was expecting an even more hectic Tokyo Station experience. Luckily, I was there at an off time, so I had ample room to explore. Exiting the station, and facing the heat yet again, I quickly arrived at Kura Sushi: a popular revolving Sushi bar. At a small table for one, I sat in front of a tablet computer and two conveyor belts: one was continually moving with a variety of sushi, and one would occasionally fling specific orders to patrons sitting around me.
After trying a few unique rolls on the conveyor that had no English labelling, I used the tablet to order specific rolls. From sea urchin and flying squid to wagyu croquettes and seared scallops, these custom rolls were delivered with high speed right to my table. Once I finished each plate, I would deposit it into the table for the chance to win a keychain. I never won, but that didn’t stop me from ordering more than 10 dishes. For less than $20, this meal was one to remember.
A monster meal called for some monster sightseeing. Atop the Toho building, steps away from Kura Sushi was the head of Godzilla. Overlooking Shinjuku, this “life-size” Godzilla was unveiled in 2015 and is viewed as one of Tokyo’s best public art sculptures.
On the same street as Godzilla, I stumbled upon Don Quijote, a sprawling Japanese discount store filled with anything and everything. Bright ads and sale signs in English were aggressive but effective; it was impossible to look anywhere without a video playing highlighting seemingly every product they had. The music was different in every section, which combined into a hum of excitable nothingness. It was a sensory overload, but the deals were simply too good to ignore.
Wandering through Shinjuku, I took a moment to stroll through Golden Gai: a collection of narrow alleys filled with snug bars and taverns. Originally a black market in the 1950s, the cozy vibe of Golden Gai was juxtaposed by the skulls, graffiti, and direct signage including “standing piss prohibition” and “if you cannot obey our rules, stay out of Golden Gai”. I arrived during the day, so it was almost empty apart from a few noisy bars packed with a handful of patrons. I felt a sense of calm walking through the alleys of Shinjuku, often taking moments to admire the local cats and brilliant street art.
Heading back to Shinjuku Station, the next stop was Ikebukuro Station. I was on the hunt for Pokémon Center Mega Tokyo, as I had a few friends very interested in real Japanese Pokémon cards. Similar to Tokyo Station, this mall was a maze. Maybe it was the fact that it was 38°C, or maybe It was because had walked more than 30,000 steps so far, but regardless of what it was, I was getting disoriented. What certainly didn’t help was the hour-long lineup in the mall to buy the Pokémon cards.
Pressing onwards, I wandered around Toshima City before branching out of the Yamanote Line route in favour of a more direct train to Sensō-ji, Tokyo’s oldest temple built more than 1,350 years ago. I walked through Nakamise, a shopping street that was hundreds of years old leading up to the temple. Crossing through the Hōzōmon Gate as the sun began to set, workers were beginning to close the temple.
I quickly ran in to see the main hall before it was officially closed, and I was able to witness a golden statue of Kannon, the Buddhist goddess of mercy and compassion. The main hall had sloping tiled roofs, intricate wooden carvings, vibrant colours and ornate decorations. At the base of the statue of Kannon was a large box for coin collection. I threw a few coins into the box as a donation and promptly left before I was locked inside.
I had one item left on my itinerary for the day: visit Tokyo Skytree, the tallest tower in Japan. Outside of Sensō-ji, Skytree looks like it’s just down the street. So instead of taking a train, I decided to walk to the tower. In hindsight, just because the tallest building in Japan looks close, doesn’t mean it is. After 45 minutes and crossing the Sumida River, I arrived at the tower. With nothing but adrenaline and determination keeping me going, I took another 15 minutes to find the entrance, purchase a ticket, and ascend to the top of the tower.
I saw the city from Tokyo Tower during the day, but for Skytree, I was very excited to see the city at night. As we arrived at the top, the lights from the city were unlike anything I’d ever seen before. From certain areas, the lights of the city stretched all the way to the horizon; an endless city. In the distance, a small building had a unique shape. After looking closer, it turned out to be Tokyo Tower, and the once-tall observation deck I visited a few hours prior became another insignificant building in a sea of lights.
Taking a seat on the ground, I leaned up against the windows to get a better view of the lights. Suddenly, in the distance, a streak of light flashed across the sky.
A thunderstorm had begun in the South East, and every few seconds the sky would fill with lightning. Occasionally, the light would be bright enough to show a glimpse of Mount Fuji far off in the distance. For the next few hours, I took in the sights, took photos of the lightning, and had yet another moment of peace.
After 16 hours, 41,105 steps, and a sense of self-satisfaction, I was ready to leave my perch on the Skytree and head back to Tokyo Station. Although my JR Pass didn’t work on certain trains, the Yamanote line would have added an extra half hour to my travel home. Deciding to treat myself, I used a direct train to head back to my hotel (which was less than $2). Similar to my first train to Tokyo, the train was clean, quiet and empty. I felt a profound sense of deja vu as I arrived at Tokyo Station, and after wandering back to my hotel, I felt ready to end my first full day in Japan.
Day 3
Sore, tired, and with an unfettered sense of adventure, I checked out of my hotel and began my journey to Kyoto. After a quick stop at Starbucks for an Osatsu Butter frappuccino (a crunchy drink I desperately wish Canada offered), I arrived back at Tokyo Station.
With my JR Pass, I was able to ride on most Shinkansen bullet trains, and even reserve seats. I was told it is especially important to reserve seats on the Tokyo to Kyoto route, and window seats on the right side of the train provided an incredible view of Mount Fuji. With trains leaving every half hour I thought it would be no issue to find a seat. To my surprise, every window seat for most of the trips throughout the day was already reserved. Not wanting to take my chances in a non-reserved section, I took a seat on the left side and continued to the platform.
On the platform was a small convenience store. With some extra time on my hands, I decided to buy some snacks for the trip. With a chicken katsu sandwich and a bag of black truffle chips in hand, I went to my assigned seat. At exactly 11:03, the time stated on my ticket, the train doors closed and the trip began. All the window seats were indeed taken on the right side of the train, but the chicken katsu sandwich quickly eliminated any negative thoughts. Even as I write this, I’m craving that sandwich.
Feeling like a plane, the bullet train felt sleek and modern. The bright blue seats were comfy, and overhead storage for bags was above every seat. It really felt like an elevated travelling experience. In the beginning, however, the train was actually quite slow. With Tokyo still surrounding us, it felt similar to a plane taxiing on the runway rather than to a high-speed bullet train. As I was looking out the window and the skyscrapers of Tokyo faded in the distance, the train began to pick up speed. Reaching 285 km/h, views in the foreground became difficult to see, and the bullet train name started to make much more sense.
After about an hour, I saw on my map that we were nearing Mount Fuji. Reserved seat be damned, I was going to see Mount Fuji. Each seat had a small handle for travellers to hold on to when moving throughout the train, as the trip occasionally got a bit bumpy. Without those handles, I absolutely would have fallen in the aisle. I made my way to the storage area at the back of the carriage which conveniently had a window. Although it was cloudy, I got a fantastic view of the mountain. I stumbled back to my seat, happy and satisfied.
Only two hours by train, but 445km traversed, I had arrived in Kyoto. Heavy rain was pouring down on the tracks, but the platform was covered providing a safe haven for travellers. Striking and futuristic, Kyoto Station’s unique, grandiose design includes an expansive steel and glass atrium known as the "Matrix." The Matrix is a vast open space soaring 15 stories high, flooded with natural light, and houses numerous shops, restaurants, and boutiques.
Stepping out of the station, the rain was relentless. A sea of umbrellas and soaked travellers rushed into the station, and with my hotel a half-kilometre walk away and no umbrella available, I faced the storm and trekked through rain-filled streets. As I arrived at the hotel, I realized there was an underground pathway from Kyoto Station that spanned multiple blocks and had an exit right next to where I was staying. Drenched, all I could do was laugh it off.
After checking into sleek the hotel featuring exposed stone and zen gardens, I dropped my bags and went right back to Kyoto Station. By this point, the rain had stopped, and the skies began to clear. I took a cozy train with traditional wooden features to Saga-Arashiyama Station, searching for the Arashiyama Bamboo Forest. Arriving at the station, it felt like I arrived in a small town. Peaceful, surrounded by nature, and with only a few people around me, I strolled through a quaint residential area on my way to the forest. I found it difficult to find a single building taller than one storey, and the facades of each building had a unique mix of modern and traditional architecture.
At the entrance to the forest was a small shop selling Dango, rice dumplings coated in a sweet glaze on a bamboo stick. There were about 15 people in line, so, trusting the locals, I decided to indulge. In Japan, I did not find a single public trashcan. That was fine, but I quickly realized that after eating something sticky I would have to sacrifice a pocket in my backpack. Small price to pay for a treat so sweet.
Arashiyama Bamboo Forest features thousands of bamboo stocks, some reaching 30 feet tall. In some parts, the forest can get quite dark with bamboo covering the sun. The creaking and rustling of the bamboo stocks provided a calming sound, with no sounds from the outside world creeping in (apart from the occasional train and group of tourists). After exploring for some time, I discovered the gates to the Okochi Sanso Garden, a villa built by a Japanese film star in the early 1900s. Groups of tourists would approach the gates, and then quickly leave. It turns out admission was $10, and there were little details about what was behind the gates. Initially, I walked away, but after thinking for a few moments about how $10 was pretty insignificant in the scope of a trip to Japan, I paid my admission and entered the villa.
The crowds of the Arashiyama Bamboo Forest were nowhere to be seen or heard. I hiked up a hill and found a small tea house. I was invited inside and offered a cup of green tea. A few travellers were finishing up their tea, so after a moment I found myself alone in the serene tea house, overlooking groves of bamboo. The cool green tea was incredibly refreshing, and this moment of tranquillity was much needed after such an intensive day the day before. After quick a chat with a fellow traveller that had also wandered into the tea house, I continued up the mountain.
Finding perfectly manicured gardens, stone shrines and traditional buildings, the trail up the mountain felt rejuvenating. The trail had numerous vantage points overlooking Kyoto, with views of the lush mountains that surround the city. Feeling refreshed and much less tired, it was the best $10 I had ever spent. I wandered back down the mountain, stopping at a few more shrines before making my way to the Tenryu-ji, a Zen Buddhist temple just outside the bamboo forest.
Although the temple was closed and I wasn’t able to learn much about it, I did get to experience a true Japanese tradition. I found a vending machine selling a variety of drinks, and after my fantastic green tea, I began to think that I could become a green tea connoisseur. Surprisingly the green tea from the vending machine wasn’t as great as the one I had at the villa, but I had a new appreciation for the convenience they offered.
Just outside the temple grounds, Hannari Hokkori Square featured small stores selling handmade puppets, ornaments, and all things cute. The square was surrounded by vibrant art pieces, and the train itself was a bright purple. Instead of a JR Pass or buying a physical ticket this time, I used my phone to load a Suica card. I tapped my phone when I got on the train, and I tapped my phone when I got off the train. Seamlessly, I was back in the centre of Kyoto.
As the sun began to set, and brilliant streaks of yellow and orange streaked across the sky, it was time to find a meal. After some time searching, I found a restaurant specializing in gyoza. As I entered Tiger Gyoza Hall, I sat at the bar looking into the kitchen. The heat of the kitchen and the smell of incredible spices filled the room. With the intention of trying sake for the first time, this felt like the right place to try it. I thought I ordered a sake shot, but instead, I was given a glass bottle of piping hot Sake. After the first sip, I realized this wasn’t for me. Luckily, an Italian tourist sat next to me and I offered to share. Turns out, like most liquor, sake is better with friends. For the next few hours, we chatted about travelling, ate gyoza, and behind my back, he paid for both our bills as a thanks for sharing. A true friend. We parted ways after dinner, and I headed back to the hotel for a relaxing night ahead.
One of the reasons I booked this specific hotel was they had a Sentō, a communal bathhouse. Separated for men and women, these bathhouses provide guests with a soothing heated soak surrounded by backlit stone. The one caveat, unlike most spas I have been to, is guests are required to bathe nude. Not an issue, just a custom I wasn’t used to. Armed with slippers and a robe, which I promptly had to discard at the entrance to the Sentō, I entered the bathhouse and took a quick shower. The water was so warm it almost put me to sleep. After an hour of relaxing, I called it a night and walked back to my room (with slippers and robe back in my possession).
Day 4
The sun was shining, the sake was out of my body, and I was ready for a new day. Back to Kyoto Station, I hopped on a train to Inari Station bound for the Fushimi Inari-taisha. Sitting at the base of Inari mountain, this sacred site is famous for its thousands of vibrant vermilion torii gates leading up the mountain. With more than 10,000 gates, it felt like walking up a bright red tunnel.
Starting around 7 a.m., there were only a few other people on the stone pathways alongside me. The map at the bottom of the mountain gave the impression that it would be a quick walk up, so I casually started climbing. The initial section of the path is relatively wide and flanked by numerous smaller shrines, statues, and places for worship. Along the way, I encountered various resting points, smaller shrines, and stone fox statues representing Inari's messengers. Occasionally, I spotted a few cats lounging in the shade on the shrines.
The atmosphere was serene, with sunlight filtering through the trees and creating dappled patterns on the pathways. After some time, I thought I had reached the top of the mountain. A few small huts were selling trinkets, along with vending machines selling drinks. It took me a moment to realize that I was barely halfway, and I had just reached the crossroads where multiple paths converged. I took a moment, wiped the sweat from my eyes, and continued on.
Unfortunately, on the pathway, I found a JR Rail Pass on the ground with no one near me. After being told numerous times that a lost pass was pretty much worthless, I ran up the trail to see if it had recently been dropped. No one was there. For the rest of the hike every time I passed someone I asked if they lost their pass, but I was never able to find its owner.
Nearing the top, shrouded huts became more common, selling candy, postcards, and even hand-carved sake boxes from Japanese cypress. The huts were often dimly lit, with the smell of incense pouring out of them. The sound of noisy cicadas often cut into the peace, but sounds from the outside world were virtually non-existent.
After an hour of steep stone steps and dozens of shrines, I reached the top of Mount Inari. Marked by a simple sign saying “top”, the shrine marking the summit was similar in size and design to the previous ones. Hundreds of small Shinto shrines lined the area, with one individual praying amongst them. The 223-meter ascent was a great way to start the day, but it was time to return to civilization.
Back on the ground, I walked through a peaceful neighbourhood before arriving at Fushimi-Inari Station, and after dropping off the JR Pass I found to a customer service agent, I travelled to the Yasaka Pagoda.
Also known as the Tower of Yasaka, this 5-storey Buddhist structure is also part of the larger Hokan-ji Temple, which was established in the 6th century. Couples dressed in ornate kimonos were getting their photos taken outside the pagoda, and tourists filled the narrow streets looking for the perfect shot. As I strolled further, I noticed the subtle transitions in architecture, from the historic wooden machiya houses to modern yet harmoniously designed buildings housing contemporary cafes and art galleries. The fusion of old and new in this neighbourhood added a dynamic charm to the area.
It was time for another Japanese tradition: FamilyMart. Everywhere I looked in Tokyo and Kyoto, there was either a 7-Eleven, FamilyMart or Lawson convenience store. Better in every way than Canadian convenience stores, these markets had incredible selections of food and treats. I kept seeing ads for Garigari-kun popsicles, so that’s what I decided to have for lunch. Who cares? I was on vacation. Citrusy like frozen lemonade, it’s exactly what I needed to keep the day going.
The next stop was the Kyoto Imperial Palace, the former home of the Emperor of Japan. Walking through the Kyoto Gyoen National Garden towards the palace, the tall walls of the palace were persistent in blocking my entry. After half an hour of walking around the entire palace, I finally found the entrance and was able to walk around the entire palace again, but this time from the inside! As I strolled through the grounds, observing the structures, signs would often inform visitors that the palace was destroyed and rebuilt multiple times throughout history. Various structures, including halls, gates, gardens, and other auxiliary buildings were rebuilt in 1865, often due to fire.
After some time exploring, I admitted to myself that a popsicle was not a suitable lunch. As a matter of convenience, I indulged in Japanese McDonald's which included a Samurai Mac, Teriyaki Chicken Filet-O, and a melon drink. Perhaps not the most culturally appropriate, but much needed nonetheless.
After lunch, it was time to take a train from Kyoto to Osaka. As I arrived at the platform, locals and tourists alike swarmed the platform opposite to me to marvel at a specific train. Most trains I saw were white, but the train that had grabbed everyone's attention was bright yellow. After a quick Google search, I learned that I was in the presence of a celebrity: Doctor Yellow. This yellow bullet train is famous as a high-speed test train, monitoring conditions of the railways and ensuring trains run on time.
Boarded the (not as exciting) white bullet train, and I arrived in Osaka in less than 30 minutes. After a quick transfer, I arrived at Ōsakajōkōen Station, just outside Osaka Castle. After a quick walk through a beautiful park, I arrived at Gokuraku-bashi Bridge. Separated by a moat, the bridge took me to the base of the castle. After a quick climb to the top (thanks to the previous training earlier that day), I arrived at the main gates.
Osaka Castle is a 16th-century fortress that played a significant role in the unification of Japan. Its main tower is a massive, five-story structure with a gilded roof and white walls adorned with gold accents. The design incorporates various defensive features such as slotted windows for archers and stone walls to protect against attacks. its original builder, Toyotomi Hideyoshi, was a feudal lord who embarked on a campaign to consolidate power and bring stability to the country. Osaka Castle was constructed as part of Hideyoshi's efforts to solidify his power and serve as a symbol of his authority.
As I entered the castle, each floor had a different collection of historic artifacts and presentations. From armour and weapons to tapestries and interactive holograms, the castle was filled with history. At the top was an observation deck looking out over Osaka, with lush trees in the foreground and skyscrapers in the distance.
Continuing along, I walked back along the moat, through the Nioino mori gardens, and hopped on a train towards Kuromon Ichiba Market. Featuring more than 150 shops selling seafood, meat, and produce, I was ready for an actual meal. My goal was to find a stall that sold Fugu, the infamous pufferfish dish known to kill humans if prepared incorrectly. As I walked through the long hallway-like market, I saw a model of a pufferfish hanging from the stained glass ceiling over one particular storefront. With a sense of adventure and determination, I sat down at a small plastic table surrounded by raw oysters and coroplast walls and ordered six pieces of pufferfish sashimi.
As I ordered, a couple from California sitting next to me noticed my order and we had a great chat about unique delicacies in Japan. The excitement we shared hit a head as the pufferfish was placed in front of me. Thin strips of translucent flesh placed on a bright blue plate were a unique sight to behold, but without hesitation, I ate my first bite. It was fantastic!
Pufferfish contain tetrodotoxin, a potent neurotoxin that can be fatal if not properly removed during the preparation process. Therefore, in Japan, only licensed and highly trained chefs are permitted to prepare and serve fugu dishes to ensure safety. I never once felt unsafe, except for when my lips and tongue began to go numb.
I casually mentioned this experience to the couple sitting beside me, and I was quickly assured this was a completely normal experience (or so they had heard). Soothed, I finished the sashimi, enjoying every last bite, before setting out on the hunt for more unique food. A few storefronts down, a grill was offering skewers of Kobe and Wagyu beef. I saw similar grills at Tsukiji Fish Market, but the $40 price tag per skewer kept me wary. But, with a stomach full of pufferfish, I was ready for anything.
Kobe beef is a specific type of highly marbled Wagyu beef exclusively from Tajima cattle raised in Japan's Kobe region, while Wagyu encompasses various Japanese cattle breeds known for their exceptional marbling and quality. Because of this, the Kobe beef skewer was $40, and the Wagyu skewer was only $10. Knowing I was only 30 minutes away from Kobe, I thought this would be the best opportunity to try both.
The chef grilled the beef in front of me, gently rotating the beef over the searing hot table. Stores around me began to close, yelling out discounts for their stock of seafood. As stores shuttered their doors, and workers began to leave, the chef handed me my skewers and wished me well. Tender and would be a radical understatement; without a doubt, this was the best beef I had ever enjoyed. Cooked to perfection, both beefs melted in my mouth.
The next stop was Dotonbori, just steps outside the Kuromon Ichiba Market. With a beautiful canal running through it, Dotonbori is an eccentric district filled with illuminated billboards, vendors and thousands of visitors. It felt like walking into Times Square.
After grabbing a skewer of candied strawberries, I walked along the canal and observed visitors getting on boat rides and enjoying the evening. Everywhere I looked I saw a caricature of a clown wearing striped clothes. Kuidaore Taro, also known as "The Drumming Doll," is a symbol of Osaka's vibrant food culture and extravagant dining scene. Located in the Dotonbori district, this mechanical drumming clown is renowned for its repetitive drumming performance and represents Osaka's attitude toward enjoying food to the fullest extent, even to the point of extravagance and excess. The term "Kuidaore" translates to "eat until you drop" or "ruin oneself by extravagance in food" in Japanese. Kuidaore Taro encapsulates this spirit by tirelessly beating his drum.
Taking the advice of Kuidaore and eating until I dropped, I enjoyed one last snack: an edible 10-yen coin made of bread and stuffed with cheese. As I enjoyed the snack on the edge of the canal, I looked up to see the Glico Sign, a famous Osaka landmark. Installed in 1935, this advertisement for the Glico confectionery company became a symbol for Dotonbori district.
Satisfied with my feast, and after a considerable amount of time enjoying the liveliness of Dotonbori, I caught a train back to Kyoto to conclude the day.
Day 5
Packing my bags, it was time to catch another Shinkansen bullet train. With a white peach cream bun from 7-Eleven in hand, I enjoyed a quick stopover in Kobe before departing to Hiroshima. As I arrived, I didn’t really know what to expect. Hiroshima Station was incredibly modern, although most of the exterior was under construction. On one of the temporary walls, a small plaque with a photo of a destroyed building was hanging, with an inscription honouring the employees who worked to restore train services after the atomic bomb dropped. Although the train station was completely destroyed, they were able to restore service just a day after the bombing.
After crossing the Ekimae-ohashi Bridge, I arrived at my hotel. Designed for business travellers, the rooms were luxurious, but the size of a shoebox. My room was on the top floor, with a large window overlooking the Enko River right beside my bed. Without a doubt my favourite room so far, it was a shame I would be spending the least amount of time here.
Hiroshima has a robust network of electric trams that run across the city. Unlike underground subway stations, these retro streetcars are cozier and provide great views of the city. After a quick trip, I arrived at the Atomic Bomb Dome, also known as the Genbaku Dome. On August 6, 1945, during the final stages of World War II, the United States dropped an atomic bomb on Hiroshima. The bomb exploded about 600 meters away from the dome, instantly killing tens of thousands of people and causing widespread destruction. Remarkably, the skeletal structure of the building remained standing amidst the surrounding devastation, earning it the name "Atomic Bomb Dome." Its location near the hypocenter of the explosion meant that it absorbed much of the force from the blast, which contributed to its survival.
From the dome, I walked to the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museum. Numerous cenotaphs and statues filled the park outside the museum, and although crowds of groups had formed, it was profoundly quiet. Walking into the museum, a guard told me to “please take pictures”, something you don’t often hear in museums.
As I entered, the halls were dark, cold, and quiet, with a photo of a young girl, covered in dirt and ash, looking directly into the camera.
The museum was separated into three sections: Pre-Bombing Hiroshima, The Atomic Bombing, Personal Stories and Artifacts and Efforts for Peace and Nuclear Disarmament. Each section had solemn artifacts including clothes stained from fallout, walls with shadows of residents permanently burned into them, and warped steel beams.
Numerous photos and paintings depicted first-hand accounts of the bombing in graphic detail. Images of peeling skin and burnt corpses filled the museum, which at times often became difficult to look at. Certain sections also discussed mental health issues survivors had to face:
“The atomic bombing left deep scars on minds and bodies. The constant pain from keloids and repeated surgeries drained survivors mentally as well as physically. A-bomb radiation disorders that developed years after the bombing caused continual suffering. Fear of suddenly developing a serious disease perpetually hounded even healthy survivors.”
The exhibits aimed not only to inform but also to inspire reflection, empathy, and a deeper understanding of the consequences of war and the importance of pursuing peace. Although incredibly bleak, I felt it was important to visit the memorial for a greater sense of understanding. At the exit of the museum, the same photo of the girl covered in ash was shown. But this time, a photo of her as an adult was beside it. Yukiko Fujii, one of the atomic bomb survivors.
Departing the memorial, I walked down a street a few blocks away. On a residential building, a small plaque indicated that the bomb was detonated 600 meters above this spot, and temperatures in the area rose to 4,000°C after detonation. Just down the road, Hiroshima Hondori Shopping Street was welcoming with its vibrant energy and bustling activity. The transition from the solemnity of the memorial to the lively atmosphere of the shopping street was stark yet symbolic of the city's resiliency. After wandering around for a bit, it was time to visit Miyajima Island.
Miyajima Island is a small, lush island in Hiroshima Bay. After a quick train ride and a 10-minute ferry (all included with the JR pass), I stepped foot on the island. Immediately, I was greeted by dozens of Sika deer, considered by folklore to be sacred messengers from the gods. The streets on the island were sandy and quiet, and buildings were bright and quaint. On the West side of the island, I walked through a sandy path towards Itsukushima Jinja Otorii, the Grand Torii Gate.
Putting the gates in Kyoto to shame, Itsukushima Jinja Otorii stands 16.6 meters tall and appears to float on the water of Hiroshima Bay during high tide. Built in 593, it is now one of Japan’s most significant national treasures.
As the sun began to set, I had a moment to listen to the waves lapping onto the beach as I looked out across the water to the shrine.
After stopping at a small store and picking up some island-made whisky, I slipped into a small restaurant and bar for something to eat. Still feeling a sense of culinary adventure from the day before, I dined on deep-fried Hiroshima oysters taken from the waters around the island and a Miyajima-brewed beer.
As I left the bar, the streets were dark and empty, dimly lit by red lanterns. Only the sound of grasshoppers and distant crashing waves kept me company. As I walked through the streets, I found a vending machine selling hand-carved trinkets. After stopping to pet a few more deer I sat down on the beach and looked up at the stars, enjoying the serenity of the island one last time before taking the ferry back to Hiroshima.
For a midnight snack, just as I was outside my hotel, I stopped at a 7-Eleven to purchase squid crackers and Kyoho grape ice cream. An unlikely pairing, but surprisingly delicious together.
Day 6
It was back to the bullet trains as I left Hiroshima on my way to Fukuoka. For this journey, instead of a chicken katsu sandwich, I indulged in a yakitori boxed lunch and a Hiroshima lemon cake. Simply decadent.
As I arrived in Fukuoka, the hottest day was upon me. Reaching 39°C, I made the difficult trek to my hotel. Dropping my bags, I immediately set back out, many pounds lighter, to Ohori Park, a scenic spot filled with wildlife. The park's name, "Ohori," translates to "big moat," which refers to its origins as part of the moat system for Fukuoka Castle.
As I was sitting on a park bench, a man came up to me and handed me a drawing of a tiger. He said it was free, but I was initially quite wary. He showed me some other drawings, but I indicated I had to go and try to hand the photo back. He insisted it was free, and started to walk away, but not before handing me another note with a picture of a woman he claimed was his girlfriend with the inscription “You are a friend of Japan”. Honestly, I’m still confused by that entire interaction, but I still have the drawing of a tiger.
As I made my way around the park, I walked through the three islands connected in the middle of the lake—Nakajima, Shimotsuma, and Okinoshima—each adorned with greenery, walking paths and herds of turtles. I continued along the perimeter of the park before arriving at The Fukuoka Castle Ruins.
Known as "Maizuru Castle," are the remnants of a historic castle complex offering a glimpse into the city's rich feudal past. Though largely destroyed during various historical events and conflicts, including World War II bombings, some ruins and reconstructed sections remain. I walked through rough hiking trails around the castle, often finding myself alone with the heat crashing down on me. I decided that this was the perfect opportunity for a cool drink from a vending machine, conveniently located at the end of the path, and something to eat.
On the banks of the Naka River, I found Ichiran Ramen - an introvert's dream. As I entered, I was handed a slip of paper and was invited to fill out my order. After paying at a vending machine, I sat at a small booth for one to which I had become accustomed. A hand reached out of the wall requesting my slip, and after a few moments, my bowl of ramen had arrived. Throughout my entire dining experience, I never saw another person. Although the ramen wasn’t as flavourful as it was in Tokyo, it was a uniquely peaceful experience.
Just outside Ichiran was a small English pub called Morris’ Hippo. I always enjoy visiting English pubs abroad to meet ex-pats. As I walked in, the ads for Guinness and Strongbow littered the walls. Although the bar was empty, the Asahi Super-Dry beer was a unique change from what I was used to back home.
Before heading back to the hotel, I decided to stop at 7-Eleven one last time for some snacks to enjoy later that night. As I walked in, a Sri-Laken employee was working at the till, and he was eager to chat with me in English. As I began stocking up on unique treats, we chatted about how he was studying business in Japan, and how difficult it was learning the three types of characters in Japanese: Hiragana, Katakana, and Kanji. After learning more about each other, Japan, Sri Lanka and Canada, I headed back to the hotel.
On my last night in Japan, I wanted to leave no culinary stone unturned. Pork bread, croquettes, grilled scallop strips, consommé corn snacks, strawberry yogurt and of course a Sapporo beer. I stopped one last time at a vending machine for a sports drink, and with my haul of goods, I went back to my hotel and turned on some Japanese TV. One sports show was showcasing kayakers in Ohori Park, while another show pitted students against teachers in a massive game of hide and seek. Barely understood anything, but it was still hilarious to watch.
Day 7
My time in Japan had come to an end. I loaded up my bags on my back, and as the sun began to rise, I set out towards the Hakata Port International Terminal. After a painless immigration process, I boarded the Queen Beetle, a high-speed jet ferry travelling between Fukuoka and Busan. From the seamless efficiency of Tokyo to the tranquil serenity of Kyoto, the vibrant nightlife of Osaka, the inspiring hopefulness of Hiroshima, and the laid-back charm of Fukuoka, I felt that with such a limited amount of time, I enjoyed every minute I was in Japan. In an incredibly comfy seat and the view of Japan in the distance, I continued my journey to South Korea.
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