Tag: Japan

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Osaka, Japan

After a leisurely morning in Kyoto, we boarded a short train ride to Osaka and arrived at our final hostel of the trip—and it was, without a doubt, the quirkiest one yet. Tucked inside what seemed to be a regular thin three story house, every room had been filled with bunk beds and every available surface was dedicated to… tomatoes. Tomato posters, tomato t-shirts, and even an entire room packed with tomato-themed trinkets. Slightly cultish vibes, but at £15 per person per night—compared to the usual £60–70 price tags—we decided we could embrace the tomato madness.

With nothing pressing on our itinerary, we headed into Osaka’s bustling centre for a wander. The city was buzzing. It felt like rush hour on a random Monday afternoon, and even the trains were jam-packed. Undeterred, we squeezed our way into the famous Kuromon market area and found ourselves on *Kitchen Street—a dream for anyone even vaguely interested in cooking. There were stalls selling every kitchen gadget imaginable, from sashimi tweezers to blowtorches. I fell in love with some beautifully painted bowls and plates but heartbreakingly left them behind, knowing they’d never survive the journey home intact. I did, however, after much browsing and polite nodding through different shops, buy a Gyuto knife—a high-quality Japanese chef’s knife that’s a great all-rounder in the kitchen. A solid gift for Adam (can’t promise I won’t also occasionally use it myself!).

Feeling peckish, we stopped for a very late lunch/early dinner of teriyaki beef bowls—tender, sweet, and savoury all at once. Then we treated ourselves to some gorgeous-looking doughnuts we’d spotted by the station.

Luckily, we’re still clocking in 20,000+ steps a day to offset all the snacking!

The next day was a scorcher—28°C—so we got an early start and picked up breakfast from a local bakery on our way to Osaka Castle. I decided to brave the kare-pan (curry doughnut), a savoury deep-fried bun filled with mildly spiced curry. Definitely not your typical breakfast pastry, but surprisingly tasty.

Osaka Castle was just as busy as expected. We spent a while exploring the outer grounds before joining a long queue to get inside. From the outside, the castle is a stunner—towering, ornate, and layered in gold accents. But step inside and you’re suddenly in what feels like a 1980s office block: grey concrete staircases, metal handrails, fluorescent lights. Not exactly the ancient wooden halls we’d pictured, but practical given the crowds. Inside were multiple floors of exhibitions, mostly focused on the Siege of Osaka (1614–1615), a pivotal conflict during the unification of Japan. I found it all especially fascinating because I’d been watching a docudrama on exactly this period, so seeing the castle in real life felt like stepping onto the set.

After our history fix, we hopped on a train to our second destination of the day: Osaka Aquarium Kaiyukan. When it opened in 1990, it was the largest aquarium in the world, and though it’s since been surpassed, it’s still massive. The building’s layout is clever—you spiral downward through themed zones based on the “Ring of Fire” ecosystems of the Pacific ocean. At the top of each tank, you’ll see surface-dwelling animals like otters, penguins, and sea lions. As you descend, you follow the same tanks downward and meet the deeper-dwelling species—sharks, rays, deep-sea fish. One of the largest tanks even had whale sharks, manta rays, and hammerheads. It was stunning.

The only downside was the dolphin enclosure—it felt a bit cramped. But there were signs everywhere saying they’re actively expanding and enriching habitats, which gave us some hope. There was also a powerful exhibition on ocean pollution and coral reef destruction, with a live coral-growing display that was both beautiful and sobering.

After an afternoon surrounded by sea creatures, there was really only one option for dinner: sushi. I appreciate fish in all forms!

The next morning we’d signed ourselves up for a walking tour, though we quickly realised that Osaka’s tourist circuit is a little… limited. We ended up retracing much of what we’d already explored the day before, including Kitchen Street and the same cluster of souvenir shops. But this time, our guide added a few helpful insights that made us see things in a new light. For instance, he pointed out all the capsule toy machines and pachinko gambling parlours we’d previously walked past without a second thought. Suddenly, we started spotting them everywhere—tucked between shops, around corners, above cafes. And they were all full of suited-up businessmen, frantically pressing buttons and pulling levers, even though it was only 11 in the morning.

Still, the tour wasn’t without its hidden gems. One of the coolest spots we visited was a narrow, lantern-lit alleyway tucked between two modern buildings. It was dark, slightly smoky, and had a quiet, lived-in charm. Our guide told us this was what much of Osaka looked like before World War II. Almost everything else had been flattened by bombing, but this tiny street had somehow survived—a shadow of the old city.

We also visited a shrine, one of the very few in Osaka that wasn’t destroyed during the war. The grounds were peaceful, and the most memorable part was the trio of moss-covered statues. After the usual Shinto cleansing ritual (washing hands and mouth at the water basin), we were told to scoop more water and pour it three times over the part of the large statue’s body that corresponds to any ailments or health concerns we had. I figured I’d give my stomach a little extra attention—just in case the mysterious parasite from the Philippines hadn’t quite moved out yet. Then we poured water over the heads of the two smaller statues as a sign of respect and purification. A simple but lovely ritual.

The tour also cleared up one mystery we’d been quietly wondering about—why everyone kept posing for photos on the bridge in front of a specific billboard. It turns out it’s one of Japan’s most iconic adverts—a long-running campaign for a popular children’s sweet featuring a running man in a victory pose. It’s so ingrained in Japanese pop culture it’s basically their version of the 118 118 runners. Of course, we had to join in the fun and strike a pose in front of it ourselves.

The real highlight of the day, though, was putting our guide’s local knowledge to good use. We’d been wanting to try yakisoba (fried noodles) and okonomiyaki (a savoury pancake filled with cabbage, meat, and sometimes seafood), and he recommended the perfect spot. It was one of those classic no-frills places where the food is cooked right in front of you on a sizzling hotplate. The okonomiyaki was thick and fluffy, topped with tangy sauce and mayonnaise. The yakisoba was just as good—flavourful, smoky, and surprisingly moreish. We instantly regretted not discovering the dishes earlier in the trip!

With a few hours still to kill, we rounded off the afternoon with some final souvenir shopping. I picked up a set of decorative chopsticks and a tiny waving maneki-neko cat figurine for my brother, plus a selection of the ever-weird and wonderful Japanese KitKats—matcha, strawberry, even purple sweet potato.

Then, on a bit of a whim, we decided to get our nails done. Since I always keep mine short for netball, I’d been excited to finally grow them out a bit—but the first thing the nail technician did was snip them right down to stubs. So much for my glamorous new look—I now resemble someone with a very enthusiastic nail-biting habit. Still, if an emergency netball match were to break out in Japan, at least I’d be ready!

With our nails done (albeit unintentionally minimalist), we picked up our shinkansen bullet trqin tickets for the final stop on this unforgettable trip—Hiroshima.

I’ll tell you all about it soon.

Love, Alice x

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Kyoto, Japan

After we had arrived and checked into the hostel we instantly bee-lined straight back to the conveyor-belt sushi place we’d spotted by the station. Unlike the tablet-ordering joints we’d been to before, this one was culinary roulette: the chefs loaded every kind of roll, nigiri, and seaweed-wrapped mystery onto the belt, and you just grabbed whatever happened to cruise past that took your fancy.

This meant I discovered a new surprise hit, a “clam salad” gunkan—slices of clam, avocado, and onion perched on rice and wrapped in seaweed. Plate colour set the price: big slabs of fish (sashimi and nigiri) cost more, veggie-heavy creations less. Conveniently, always a cheap date, my taste buds favoured the 75-pence plates, so I feasted until I was blissfully immobile and still spent only a tenner, drink included.

Grace, meanwhile, discovered the belt’s non- raw fish quota was… minimal. After two tempura prawns and a sweet-corn maki she was still peckish, so we detoured to the bakery next door. She stocked up; I squeezed in a carrot cake because, frankly, it felt like the perfect end to a lovely meal—even if conventional wisdom frowns on eating your entire calorie allowance in one sitting.

Post-feast we hurried back to the hostel for a quick unpack-and-shower turnaround, then set off for an evening walking tour of Shijō Keihan-mae, one of Kyoto’s storied geisha districts. An intro to geisha life. Contrary to Hollywood myth, geisha are neither courtesans nor relics of the past; they’re highly trained performing artists whose craft blends traditional dance, shamisen music, calligraphy, tea ceremony, casual witty conversation, and an encyclopaedic knowledge of seasonal etiquette. Girls who aspire to the profession usually enter an okiya (geisha house) around sixteen. Their first year is spent as shikomi—essentially live-in assistants learning Kyoto dialect, bow-until-your-spine-aches etiquette, and how to walk in the heels without knocking anything over, a feat I’ve yet to master! If they survive that boot camp, they become maiko (apprentices) and swap school uniforms for elaborate silk kimono, six-inch wooden okobo clogs, and iconic floral hairpins. Maiko shadow senior geiko (Kyoto’s word for geisha) to banquets, practising dance for hours daily and memorising hundreds of traditional songs. After roughly five gruelling years—and one symbolic tooth-blackening ceremony—they “turn the collar” to become full-fledged geiko, finally earning their own wages and a slightly less back-breaking kimono. Most live in the same neighbourhoods where they work; Kyoto still has five official hanamachi (flower towns), each with its own theatre, tea-houses, and resturants.

Because maiko and geiko are booked out months in advance by discerning clients, they usually sprint between engagements or call a taxi to dodge paparazzi tourists. That’s why catching a glimpse of two maiko gliding past us in full regalia felt like huge luck. Our guide pointed out hidden teahouse entrances and tiny wooden name plaques listing the resident geiko of each okiya. We also popped into hushed Shintō shrines where performers pray for nimble fingers and blister-free heels.

Along the lantern-lit lanes we also heard the origin story of kabuki theatre. It was founded in 1603 by a boundary-pushing woman named Izumo no Okuni who created cross dressing theatre —until officials decided theatre was “unsuitable” for women and banned them from the stage. Even today all the performers are men. Geisha culture, by contrast, weathered that sexist storm and still thrives—though today’s ranks are far smaller (about 200 geiko and 70 maiko in Kyoto). All in all a very interesting tour.

The next morning, we’d booked a “traditional” tea ceremony in an old tea shop that now mainly hosts tourists. It didn’t feel super traditional—there was a PowerPoint, for starters—but it was really interesting. They showed us how the tea’s prepped, how the bell rings in a specific way to kick things off, and all the little customs for pouring and receiving. We sipped matcha from big bowl-like cups (Mum would approve). It was pretty bitter, but the pretty pink bean-paste sweets they handed out took the edge off.

Post-matcha, the host handed us calligraphy brushes so we could attempt our names in kanji—and then kindly supplied the simpler, phonetic kana when our strokes started looking like suspicious wobbly spiders. A surprisingly fun way to spend a morning.

Once we wrapped that up, we hit a yakitori spot the tea ladies recommended. We’d been dying to try those grilled meat skewers, and yep, they were worth the wait.

Re-fueled, we wandered the local market hunting souvenirs and emerged triumphant with “his-and-hers” lightweight summer kimono for us and the boyfriends—basically the fanciest dressing gowns our washing machines will ever see.

Back at the hostel we showered, then headed out for our evening reservation at Macho Bar. Picture a tiny bar where every staff member is a bodybuilder and literally everyone—guys, girls, 6-foot giants—gets carried to their seat. Each drink came with a mini muscle show; my pineapple cocktail was squeezed tableside while we were encouraged (okay, forced) to poke biceps. I spent half the night bright-red from embarrassment, but watching hulking dudes get princess-carried by guys half their size was hilarious. Once we’d hit our personal limit for public blushing, and heard enough shouts of “LOOK AT MY MUSCLES—SO BIG!” (now mine and Grace’s favorite catchphrase), we bailed for a small bar someone in Tokyo had recommend.

That place was great too—we met four American siblings from New York, chatted, danced, and then Grace (yes, karaoke-hating Grace!) dragged us all to a karaoke bar. Three months in Asia will do that to a girl. It was an awesome night… though we definitely felt it the next morning!

Feeling a bit rough around the edges, we dragged ourselves out for another walking tour the next morning. It started on a pretty sour note—while the guide was giving the intro, some creep in a business suit groped Grace and bolted before we could react. Absolutely vile, but we tried not to let it ruin the day.

Things improved once we reached the Kamo River. Our guide explained how locals have reshaped its course over the centuries, dredging and straightening to control floods and create gentle banks. Every summer, restaurants along the water build wooden decks (called noryō-yuka) that hover above the river’s cool evaporative breeze—perfect natural air-con. They’re dismantled each winter so the planks don’t crack under frost or spring floods.

Next stop: Chion-in Buddhist temple, headquarters of the Jōdo sect—the “Buddhism Lite” the samurai preferred because it skips awkward prohibitions on meat, booze, and, well, killing. The buildings are enormous Lego sets of interlocking cedar, no nails required, and the surrounding gardens are beautiful and full of couples in traditional clothing having photoshoots.

We visited a samori statue and our guide painted a vivid story of how the samori were split during a civil war between the last shogun and the emperor and it ended of course in bloodshed. We continued to Hōkan-ji, a temple covered with bright prayer balls, and finished the tour at Yasaka’s five-storey pagoda that photobombs half the postcards in town. The streets here were packed all the way up to it and trying to avoid the crowds on the way down we discovered a back route through a cemetery which was actually pretty interesting to stroll through and conveniently even had a vending machine with some water. Japan really does put vending machines everywhere and anywhere even graveyards!

After three hours of walking hungover in 28°c heat we were a little worse for ware. We staggered into a café to refuel. Grace chose a “dry curry,” Japan’s wholesome remix of an Indian keema curry—same aromatics, but the sauce is replaced by finely diced veggies. My stomach mutinied at the thought of spice, so I played it safe with a chicken-salad sarnie.

Restored, we trained south to Fushimi Inari’s Senbon Torii—the “Path of a Thousand Gates.” At the base it’s selfie chaos, but after ten minutes of climbing the crowd thins dramatically. It’s beautiful and enjoying the shade we trekked until the slope turned too steep, deciding 25,000 steps was plenty for the day, and went in search of a ramen dinner.

We decided against getting a large ramen, turned out to be a good decision, even the “regular” bowls were roughly the size of a birdbath—bloody tasty though.

The next day was a travel day but as Osaka is only an hour away, we treated ourselves to a lie-in, checked out, stashed our packs, and prowled the nearby market for breakfast. Ended up in a trippy 2-D café where everything, walls, floors, and furniture are painted like comic-book sketches. Very cool.

After a chill morning we collected bags and hopped the train to Osaka.

Tell you all about it soon. Love, Alice x

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Takayama and Shirakawa, Japan

After a scenic bus ride through winding mountain roads, we arrived in Takayama—our next stop another charming town, full of beautifully preserved traditional buildings.

First priority: food. We wandered through the old streets, letting our noses lead the way, and the first thing to catch our attention was the smell of sizzling wagyu beef. We couldn’t resist. For £2.50, we got a tiny skewer of A5 wagyu—not much more than a single mouthful, but it was bloody delicious. After that little treat, we went looking for something a bit more substantial (and budget-friendly) and found a lovely local bakery. I had a round of bread topped with cheese, leek, and onion, while Grace had a crusty roll filled with potato and cheese. Both hit the spot.

Since we’re now down to our last ten days in Japan, we’re making the most of every treat—so next up was ice cream. We’d seen this particular brand advertised all over, first in South Korea and now in Japan, so our hopes were high—and it didn’t disappoint. The ice cream was amazing, and even the cone was good enough to eat on its own, like a crisp sugar-snap biscuit. It was quite brittle, though, and poor Graces collapsed and dropped her ice-cream halfway through! But it was so good that neither of us wanted to share the rest of mine, so she simply bought another.

Fuelled by sugar and dairy, we headed off to explore the town. Most of the old buildings in the centre have now been converted into shops, so we had a leisurely browse and picked up a few souvenirs. Grace bought some beautiful hand-painted porcelain coasters, and I picked up a pair of chopsticks and a small porcelain crane in an origami-style design for my travel shelf. Shopped out, we followed a walking trail through the surrounding area, which led us past more traditional houses and a few quiet Shinto shrines. At one of them, we were tempted by the amusing protection charms, but decided we should probably save our precious bag space for more practical gifts. Instead, we bought some fish food and spent a while feeding the resident carp.

We headed back to the hostel in the early evening for a quick sit-down… which turned into an accidental nap. By the time we woke up and got ready to go out for dinner, most places had already finished serving or were sold out. Thankfully, a kind woman at a Tex-Mex place said she could still feed us—as long as we were happy with burgers, because that’s all she had left. No complaints here—at least we got fed!

The next morning, we were up early to catch the first bus to the nearby village of Shirakawa-go, a UNESCO World Heritage site famous for its thatched-roof farmhouses, rivers, and green fields, all set against a dramatic backdrop of snow-capped mountains. It really was picture-perfect.

What we hadn’t realised, however, was just how small the village actually is. You can easily walk around the whole thing in about half an hour—maybe an hour if you dawdle. Unfortunately for us, our return bus wasn’t for another seven hours.

So, we made the most of it. We walked every path, twice. Visited every shop, every shrine. Took a little detour to a hilltop observatory for panoramic views. We even explored the village museum. Then we stretched out a very long lunch of Hilda beef noodles, followed by an extended stay at a tea and ice cream café. And still, two more hours to go!

At the time of writing, we’re sitting on some grass by a river next to a car park. At least it’s a scenic car park, and the weather’s lovely. Hopefully our next stop, Kyoto will be have a bit more happening! I’ll let you know all about it soon, love Alice x

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Matsumoto, Japan

It took three trains to get to our next stop, Matsumoto—including a trip back to Tokyo before we could catch the express heading out again. Not the most efficient route, but we got there in the end… just with a minor ticketing mishap along the way. We thought just tapping into the platform with our travel cards was enough to cover the journey, but a ticket inspector gently informed us otherwise. Thankfully, he took pity on our confused faces and let us buy tickets on the train. He even helped us find two seats together—what a star! We still had to tap out at the other end, where we were charged £15—the same as we’d just paid him—so who knows if we got it right in the end. All that mattered was we’d made it safely and with all our luggage.

By the time we arrived and checked in, it was already 3 p.m., and in the flurry of platform changes and rushing for trains, we’d somehow gone the whole day without eating. We were ravenous. The only place open was a Nepalese “Pan-Asian” restaurant, so that’s how we ended up ordering Indian curry from a Nepalese man, in Japanese. A truly global dining experience! Thankfully, despite the cultural curveball, the food was delicious and much-needed.

Once we’d refuelled, we walked over to the main draw of the town: Matsumoto Castle. And unlike some of the more modest castles we’ve seen, this one really looked the part. Towering, dramatic, and jet-black against the blue sky, it’s nicknamed the “Crow Castle” for good reason. Surrounded by a wide moat and set against a backdrop of distant mountains, it looked like something straight out of a samurai film. We had a lovely slow wander around the outer gardens in the afternoon sun before heading inside.

Built in the late 1500s during the Sengoku “warring states” period, where there were almost constant civil wars, Matsumoto Castle is one of Japan’s few original castles—meaning it’s not a modern reconstruction like so many others. Its main keep has stood for over 400 years, surviving battles, earthquakes, and even a few attempted demolitions (locals thankfully protested those!). It was designed as a stronghold and symbol of feudal power, with all the defensive features you’d expect: arrow slits, murder holes, steep stairs to slow down attackers, and cleverly placed openings for dropping stones or boiling water.Inside, we climbed floor after floor on steep wooden staircases—practically ladders in places—and discovered how each level served a different purpose. There were familiar sights like the narrow windows for archers and gunmen, but also some new-to-us spaces like a floor for storing rice (to sustain defenders during a siege), and a watchtower nicknamed the “crow’s nest” where war councils were held. It was equal parts fortress and time capsule, and we really enjoyed taking our time exploring it all.

After the castle, we wandered down the riverside near our hostel, past rows of little touristy shops filled with the most tempting ceramics—tiny soy sauce bowls, elegant chopstick rests, all so beautifully made and delicate. The kind of things that would probably live in a cupboard untouched back home, but still felt impossible to walk past without sighing over. Sadly, our bags are already pushing their limits, so we resisted… for now.

Instead, we treated ourselves to some cold drinks and a slice of carrot cake, which we shared while sitting by the river in the sun, writing postcards and soaking up the peaceful atmosphere. A lovely, calm afternoon after the train chaos—and a perfect reminder of why slower towns like Matsumoto are such gems.

Our second day in Matsumoto didn’t quite go to plan. We’d hoped to visit a nearby wasabi farm in the morning and then head to the old post town of Narai-juku in the afternoon. Turns out both of those are much better accessed by car. The wasabi farm was only a 30-minute drive away, but over two hours by public transport and more than £120 by taxi—so we decided to skip it and go straight to Narai-juku instead.

Narai-juku is one of the best-preserved Edo-period post towns, once a key stop for travellers journeying along the Nakasendo Trail between Kyoto and Tokyo. We were excited to visit, but when we checked train times we saw the next one wasn’t until midday. No problem—we took it as a sign to slow down a little, had a relaxed morning, enjoyed some delicious bagels for breakfast, and pottered around the shops, local shrine and riverside in the warm sunshine.

At around 11:30 we headed to the station, bought £15 return tickets to Narai-juku, and settled in to wait. But while looking at the tickets, we noticed the return was dated for the following day. A quick check revealed there were no trains back from Narai that afternoon, and once again a taxi would have cost over £120 for the return—despite it being less than an hour’s drive away. So, in the end, we didn’t get on the train. A shame, but at least we realised before we ended up stranded!

With zero out of two of our original plans working out, we scrambled for alternatives. A quick Google search turned up something unexpected: Matsumoto is actually the hometown of Yayoi Kusama, the world-renowned avant-garde artist known for her bold dots and surreal installations. So off we went to the local art gallery, which had several of her pieces on display—including one of her famous pumpkins—as well as work by other artists, including a brilliant exhibition featuring local artists all over 80. Very cool and wonderfully weird.

After the gallery, we headed to an “observation deck”—a slightly misleading name, as it turned out to be the rooftop of an office building. But the views were worth the climb: sweeping cityscapes with the mountains rising behind them, all bathed in sunshine. From there, we walked to the bus station to sort out our travel for the next day—lucky we did, as nearly every ticket was sold out. We just managed to snag two spots on the 7:30am bus. An early start for sure!

We made our way back to the old shopping street where I tried some of the region’s famous Takoyaki—octopus balls lightly fried to give a crisp shell and gooey centre, filled with octopus, pickled ginger, and green onions. Surprisingly tasty. Grace wasn’t quite as tempted and instead went for a raspberry and coriander ice cream, which she said was strangely savoury but still good. We browsed a few more little shops and then sat in the sun with cool drinks doing some trip planning. Not a high-energy day, but very pleasant in the sunshine.

For dinner, we found ourselves drawn back to the Nepalese restaurant from the day before—it’s Grace’s favourite, and I owed her after dragging her to sushi several times. The delicious smell wafts all the way down the street and our willpower only goes so far. This time we tried momo dumplings in a curried soup—a Nepalese dish that was new to both of us. Not Japanese, but at least we were still being adventurous!

We ended up chatting with two lovely retired English women at the table next to us. They were travelling together and we had a good laugh about how the smell of the curry seemed to attract every Brit in town. We stayed talking until the restaurant closed and gently nudged us out. A really nice final evening in Matsumoto before our early start tomorrow.

Next stop: Takayama. Will tell you all about it when we get there!

Love, Alice x

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Hakone, Japan

Our next stop was about two hours northwest of Tokyo by train, to the hilly little town of Hakone—famous for its hot springs, mountain air, and if the weather’s kind, glorious views of Mount Fuji. We arrived around midday, grabbed a quick bite, and headed off to explore nearby Odawara Castle. “Castle” might be generous—it looked more like an elegant, oversized house—but it came with moats and a video explaining all the clever medieval tricks they used to keep invading armies out. Apparently, those pretty gardens were actually tactical traps, and the chunky doors weren’t just for dramatic entrances…

There were some were some volunteers in front of the castle fighting with swords but I’m not sure how authentic their attire was. Luckily there was also a fun exhibition on samurai armour inside, showing how it really looked and how it evolved over the centuries—some of it genuinely quite intimidating! I also got to stick my head into a cut-out to see what I’d look like as a samurai. I must say, the results were… Slightly less intimidating than the real thing. All in all, not a bad way to spend a drizzly afternoon.

Dinner was simple but satisfying: some crispy gyozas, juicy wontons, and edamame beans. A very respectable trio to round out the day.

The next morning, we had a whole day in Hakone and were determined to squeeze every drop out of it. We kicked things off early by hopping on the switchback train up Mount Hakone. It’s an adorable little train that zigzags up the mountain, switching direction each time it gets too steep. Very scenic, very charming.

At the top, we wandered into the Hakone Open-Air Museum, and luckily the sun was out for us today. The whole place is a sculpture park filled with strange and wonderful artworks, including a stained glass viewing tower, a colourful underground maze (which I wisely let Grace attempt solo—I get lost on straight roads), and many beautiful and strange sculptures. There was also a Picasso exhibition to wander around. It was a brilliant morning topped off with an ice cream in the sunshine with our feet dipped in a warm river—because we are on holiday, after all.

Then it was on to the Hakone Ropeway—a cable car that whisked us higher up the mountain to Owakudani, a dramatic volcanic valley that smells aggressively like rotten eggs with steaming vents and bubbling pools, and best of all, it redeeming feature, a spectacular view of Mount Fuji. And yes, we took about 500 photos of it from every angle. None of them do it justice though!

Once we managed to tear ourselves away from Fuji-viewing, we rode the ropeway down the other side of the mountain to Lake Ashi. Along the way we passed a huge traffic jam snaking up to Owakudani and smugly congratulated ourselves for taking the cable car.

We stopped for a late lunch at a restaurant by the lake that smelled incredible—and it didn’t disappoint. Their specialty was some kind of mystery pork schnitzel in a delicious red sauce. Possibly Japanese, possibly German—we may never know. Either way, it was enormous and extremely tasty. Our next stop was meant to be the famous Hakone-jinja Shrine, which is over a thousand years old and traditionally brings good luck to travellers. In hindsight, maybe we should’ve started our day there… because our luck was about to run out. We got on a bus that looked right, was at the right place at the right time—but was actually going in completely the wrong direction. Back up the mountain. Into the very same traffic jam we’d felt so smug about earlier. Cue two hours on a bus crawling along a mountain road with no chance of escape. We never made it to the shrine, so that’s officially been added to the “Japan round two” list.

We did manage to redeem the day slightly with a visit to an onsen on the way home—our first one in Japan, and boy was it an experience. This one busier than in Taiwan, here we could follow the locals lead on when to get naked. Always a fine line between confidence and catastrophe when you’re not sure which locker is for shoes before walking through communal areas and which are for clothes right before the onsen.

We followed the local women’s lead, stripped down, and sat on little plastic stools scrubbing ourselves clean. Then, tiny towels on heads (for reasons still unknown to us), we wandered out into the garden and picked our hot (or freezing) pool of choice. Once you get over the initial “ah yes, I’m naked with strangers” moment, it’s actually lovely. And kind of freeing sitting around relaxing with women of all ages. Plus, we both agreed it’s probably good for younger girls to see what real bodies look like—far more uplifting than the plastic surgery billboards we saw plastered all over Korea.

Afterwards, there was the mildly surreal experience of sitting fully dressed on a train next to people we’d just been naked with, but you get used to it. We skipped dinner—we were still full of mystery schnitzel—and grabbed some of Japan’s seasonal strawberries instead, which are honestly so sweet and delicious.

Then it was time to head back to the hostel and start packing for another travel day. Next stop: Matsumoto.

More adventures (and probably more gyozas) coming soon!

Love, Alice x

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Tokyo, Japan

We’ve arrived in the fifth and final country of our backpacking trip—Japan!

Our plane landed around 4 p.m., and after a smooth hour-long train ride, we arrived at our hostel. I didn’t even finish unpacking before I was laser-focused on one thing: sushi. My one true love (sorry family and Adam). And where better to indulge than the birthplace of the stuff?

We asked at reception for a recommendation and were soon joined by two 18-year-old Swedish lads from our dorm—Otto and Oscar—who asked if they could tag along. The more, the merrier. So, the four of us headed to a sushi restaurant about a 15-minute walk away.

We had to queue for 40 minutes to get in, but it was worth it.

Once inside, the whole experience was delightfully dystopian—no human staff in sight. You order from a tablet, and your sushi whooshes in on a conveyor belt like some kind of edible monorail. Futuristic and delicious.

I ordered several rounds of different sushi like a woman possessed, while Grace opted for chicken and chips (sacrilege) but also dipped her toe into some seaweed-free sushi options. We even finished off with some chocolate cake because dessert sushi isn’t (yet) a thing. The Swedish teens, meanwhile, went full “growing-boy buffet” mode, racking up towers of plates like sushi Jenga, made me look like a rookie. They even tried some rogue options—omelette sushi, burger sushi… sushi crimes, basically.

I was a bit nervous about the bill—Sushi is pricey in the UK, and we’d eaten enough to sink a small boat. Plus, my mental exchange rate was still stuck somewhere between “it’s fine” and “are we about to accidentally spend £200?” But Japan came through: two courses, drinks, and enough sushi to require rolling us out the door—just £11 each. In the UK, that would’ve cost about £60!

After we waved off the Swedish lads (who were headed home to recover from their raw-fish-induced food comas), Grace and I made our way to Shinjuku’s Golden Gai—an area filled with narrow alleyways packed with micro-bars, each only big enough to seat 3 to 6 people. Every bar has its own quirky vibe, and the whole premise is: squeeze in, order a drink, and make friends with whoever’s next to you. Social roulette, Tokyo-style.

We had planned to meet up with Elliot, a guy we’d met at our first stop—Port Barton in the Philippines. He was also in Tokyo with some friends from home. Unfortunately, Elliot wasn’t feeling great and went home before we arrived, but we still met up with his friends, Jess and Scott, and had a fun night drinking beer and plum wine in various tiny bars around town. A very unique and memorable night out.

The next morning, we had signed up for a walking tour, but it was cancelled because the guide was ill. We signed up for the afternoon tour instead and spent the morning walking around town and finally purchasing our rail passes. We had planned to go to a noodle restaurant near the start of the tour for lunch, but when we got there, we found out it’s closed on Wednesdays. So, we decided to wait until after the tour to eat, but we still had 40 minutes to kill.

While walking, we spotted signs for “Harry’s Otter Café” and decided to check it out. We paid our entry and went in—it was a strange mix between a café and a pet shop. There were owls off to one side, hedgehogs in trays on tables, a meerkat roaming around, and a playpen filled with otters, with more in enclosures around the room and in clear tubs of water. We had paid to feed the otters, which also meant we could sit in the pen with them. They were like big puppies—very eager for treats and attention. Their little hands are surprisingly dexterous; one even sat for a while just holding my hand. It was an adorable and fascinating experience.However, in hindsight, it’s not one I’d want to repeat. We hadn’t really researched the café properly—we just wandered in—and while it was undeniably cute, it didn’t exactly scream “ethical animal care.” A staff member even woke up a hedgehog mid-nap, plonked it in my hand, and the poor guy promptly bit me in protest. Can’t blame him, really. Thankfully it didn’t break the skin—because nothing says “holiday fun” like googling rabies clinics in Tokyo.

We didn’t stay long and waited outside for our walking tour to begin. Our guide turned out to be a man originally from Ecuador who had moved to Japan three years ago for his German wife’s job. He was a nice guy, but the tour itself didn’t tell us much more than we could’ve learned by walking around ourselves. Still, we got to see Sensō-ji Temple and the surrounding markets, as well as the kitchenware district where they sell beautiful bowls, utensils, and Japan’s famous knives. Many restaurants in Japan (and across Asia) display plastic models of their dishes, and we also visited a shop that makes these hyper realistic models, which was pretty cool.

After the tour, we browsed some of the knife shops and debated whether the hassle of carrying one around for a month was worth it as a gift. Then we discovered we could buy them at our last stop in Japan too, so we decided to wait. We followed our noses to a nearby gyoza spot for a very late lunch/pre-dinner snack. The dumplings were delicious—I definitely could’ve eaten more, but we had dinner plans with Jess from the night before, so we kept it light.

We went back to the hostel, showered, and headed out to meet Jess for dinner. The restaurant was right off of the famous Shibuya Crossing, the busiest pedestrian crossing in the world, at peak times there are over three thousand people crossing simultaneously from all directions at once. Luckily we made it through the crowds and to the restaurant unscathed.

Tonight’s meal was ramen—a noodle soup. We all chose different options: I had roast beef in a clear broth, Grace had chicken in the same, and Jess had beef in a creamy broth. All were really tasty! We had planned to meet up with Elliot and Scott again after dinner for drinks, but we ended up having a bit of a family emergency and headed back to the hostel to stay in contact with family. Thankfully, everything got sorted and everyone was okay, but after all the stress, we decided to call it an early night.

The next morning, we headed over to the Imperial Palace. Most of the original palace buildings were destroyed during WWII, but it’s still the main residence of Japan’s Emperor today, and the grounds are open to the public. We spent the morning wandering through the beautiful East Gardens, which are part of what used to be Edo Castle—home of the Tokugawa shogunate for over 260 years. Most of the buildings that weren’t destroyed in the war are more modern, but we got to see the enormous stone foundations where the guard towers once stood. Just the bases were huge—I can’t imagine how tall the towers must have been.

Afterwards, we made our way to the Tsukiji Outer Market, a lively food market that grew around the historic Tsukiji Fish Market. The original fish auctions, including the famous giant tuna ones, have since moved to Toyosu, but the outer market is still buzzing with street food stalls, shops and fresh produce. We were saving our sushi appetite for the evening—we had a booking at a tiny sushi bar with a legendary chef—so we managed to resist all the fresh seafood (which, frankly, felt like an Olympic-level achievement). But we *did* splash out £5 on some ridiculously posh strawberries. And oh wow—they were worth every penny. Juicy, sweet and perfectly ripe, it felt like biting into sunshine.

Still on a strawberry high, we decided to share a strawberry parfait. It was so good that we immediately regretted not getting one each. Lesson learned: never underestimate how much strawberry dessert is *enough* strawberry dessert.

In the afternoon, we had tickets to TeamLab Borderless, an interactive digital art exhibit that’s super popular in Tokyo. We hadn’t managed to get into their main location, but the smaller exhibition was still amazing. The whole place is made up of different rooms filled with immersive projections, mirrors, smoke, lights and sound. One room was like walking through a glowing LED forest, another had giant floating spheres you could push around, and in one you could draw your own sea creature and watch it join a virtual aquarium on the wall. It was all very trippy and surprisingly fun, and the fact that the artwork moved and responded to you made it feel more like a playground than a gallery. We’d ummed and ahhed a bit over whether the tickets were worth it, but we were so glad we went—completely lived up to the hype.

That evening we met up with Jess again for dinner. We’d been recommended this teeny sushi bar with just five seats and a chef who’s been doing sushi for decades. You pick your price tier—£10, £15 or £20—and he serves you whatever he’s in the mood to make within that range. The sushi was delicious, but wow—he was *not* shy with the wasabi. Some bites blew our heads off. Still, it was a great experience and felt like a very authentic little Tokyo gem.

After dinner, we went back to the Golden Gai area—we just couldn’t resist. The bars there are all so tiny and quirky, each with its own theme and personality. This time, we ended up in a Harley-Davidson motorbike-themed bar, because of course we did. Sake was flowing, and before we knew it, we were doing karaoke with some new friends from Leeds and the US. The bar owner even insisted we do a mini photoshoot on her Harley after we paid—so we now have a collection of very dramatic motorbike photos we didn’t know we needed.

We ended the night sprinting through the streets trying not to miss the last train—thankfully we made it, slightly breathless and definitely still humming Arctic Monkeys.

The next day, we were back on our walking tour grind—this time exploring Harajuku and the Meiji Shrine. Thankfully, this one was *way* more informative than the last and actually felt like a proper history lesson rather than just a scenic stroll. Our guide was a lovely Japanese woman who took us through the dramatic tale of Japan’s transition from samurai swords to skyscrapers. She explained how the country was ruled by shoguns and samurai during the Edo period, how it isolated itself from the world for over two centuries, and then, quite dramatically, flung its doors open to trade with the US, kicking off a whirlwind cultural revolution.

All of this happened under Emperor Meiji, the guy who essentially said, “Let’s learn everything from the West but still be *very* Japanese about it.” He’s also the one behind the famous phrase, “Knowledge of the West, spirit of Japan.” After his death, the nation built the Meiji Shrine in his honour—a grand Shinto temple surrounded by forest, because in Shintoism, gods are in nature. The forest itself was planted by thousands of people who donated trees from all across Japan, which is honestly kind of beautiful. There are also huge barrels of wine from Europe and Sake from Japan given every year still in his honour.

The guide also gave us tips on shrine etiquette—don’t walk through the centre of the torii gates (that’s god territory), and when praying: bow twice, clap twice to get the gods’ attention, make your wish, and toss in a coin. Like a very respectful cosmic vending machine.

We also got to try the traditional fortune-telling sticks. You shake a big container, pull out a stick, match the number to a drawer, and take your fate from inside. Mine basically told me to behave because god is always watching (yikes), and Grace’s fortune warned her to stop gossiping—which raised some eyebrows, not gonna lie. What have we been doing lately?

After the shrine, we passed through the Olympic Park and took a stroll down Harajuku’s famous fashion street, where the current trend seems to be dressing like Victorian porcelain dolls. Cute, slightly unsettling, but undeniably impressive levels of dedication.

Post-tour, we wandered around a bit more before heading to a katsu curry place that our guide had raved about. We were joined by an American woman from our group, and the food was *excellent*—crispy, golden, and comforting.

After lunch, we took a leisurely 30-minute stroll through the backstreets, soaking in the quieter side of Tokyo, making our way toward a robot café. Very futuristic. Very Tokyo….Except we never quite made it. Just as we arrived, Grace realised she’d left her purse at the restaurant. Cue the great purse retracing mission—30 minutes back, 30 minutes to the café again, and by the end of it we were sweaty, tired, and a little knackered. Ready to be waited in by some robots!

The robot café itself was cool, if slightly bizarre. The robots didn’t do much in the way of actual serving—they just hovered near your table and performed the odd dance or bit of small talk, like high-tech dinner party guests you hadn’t invited. Still, very fun to experience and peak “only in Japan” energy.

By that point, we were knackered. After several days of non-stop sightseeing, late nights, and early mornings, we headed back to the hostel for a much-needed rest. We’d booked an evening walking tour that promised a deep dive into Japan after dark—covering everything from maid cafés to the history of comfort women and the country’s work-hard, drink-harder culture. I was genuinely excited about it… but sadly, my body had other plans. All the rushing around finally caught up with me and I ended up having a Crohn’s flare-up—nausea, stomach pain, the works.

So we had to cancel the tour, which I was absolutely gutted about. But I suppose that just gives me an excuse to come back to Tokyo one day—unfinished business, and all that!

Our next stop is Hakone, tell you all about it soon, love Alice x