Why Japan Keeps Calling Me Back
Why Japan Keeps Calling Me Back
I am not someone who needs quiet. Give me the neon-drenched scramble of Shibuya or the electric hum of a city at night, and I feel alive. But every traveler has a threshold. You cannot survive on adrenaline alone. You need balance.
After 60 days in Japan—from the urban density of Ota City to the hydrangea-lined tracks of Kamakura, from the fog-capped peak of Mt. Fuji to the willow-draped canals of Kurashiki—I have come to understand something. The true wealth of this country is not in the sights. It is in the surrender.
The Artistry of the Everyday
The first thing that strikes any visitor is the pride embedded in the culture.
Whether it is a high-end restaurant or a humble ramen shop tucked away near Enoshima Station, there is an unmistakable artistry. It is not just the taste of the gyoza or the steam rising from a bowl of pork-belly ramen. It is the workmanship. A pristine quality to every delivery, every presentation. Bakery workers arranging pastries behind glass with surgical precision. A single square of wagashi placed just so beside a cup of green tea.
This permeates everything—auto-engineering, consumer technology, the smallest service interaction. Delivering excellence is not exceptional here. It is expected.
Finding Clarity Outside the Comfort Zone
One of the most profound elements of travel is being forced out of your comfort zone.
I spent 60 days here. By and large, I do not speak the language. For many, that would be a source of anxiety. For me, it has become a kind of freedom.
When your language is not the predominant one, you adapt. You learn the basics. You find creative ways to communicate. You learn to roll with the punches. Being a visitor means accepting that the world will not adjust to your reality. You absorb the culture as it is.
There is magic in that surrender. I am not going to become fluent in Japanese tomorrow. But accepting things as they are—rather than as I wish they were—has taught me more about mindset than any book could.
A Country of Contrasts
From an urban perspective, Japan offers a range of experiences that is hard to match.
You can be walking the tracks at Chidori-cho Station one moment and watching a lenticular cloud settle over Mt. Fuji the next. The Shinkansen and the local Enoden line connect these worlds seamlessly. The crowded but orderly scrambles of Shibuya. The towering wooden gates of temples. The steady smoke of incense burners. Dancers in pink and white robes moving in synchronization through twilight streets during Awa Odori. A boat gliding through the historic quarter of Kurashiki, past white-walled warehouses and willow trees.
Beyond the visuals, there is a logistical peace of mind. Japan is an incredibly safe country. As a traveler, there is no greater gift than the ability to walk at night without hesitation. It allows you to focus entirely on the experience.
The JR Pass covers shinkansen and JR lines nationwide. For a trip spanning multiple regions, it simplified every intercity journey.
The Return
Walking down quiet suburban streets or standing before ancient temple architecture, I am reminded why I keep coming back. It is not to see everything. It is to feel the weight of a place I will never fully know.
Sixty days is long enough to scratch the surface. Long enough to develop routines and favorite corners. Long enough to understand that the list of good things to experience here is probably inexhaustible.
And that is exactly the point. Japan does not reveal itself all at once. It asks you to return.
I already know I will.