This is the last stretch. Four days in Kyoto, one more in Tokyo, and then a Friday that lasted about thirty hours. Kyoto is where the trip slowed down, or tried to, and where I finally understood ramen. As before, these are the nightly entries as I wrote them, with the farewell I posted from the train to Narita at the end.
Day 10: Kyoto, and a very tall hill
We woke up this morning in Hiroshima, at the hotel attached directly to Hiroshima Station. Convenient? Yes. Our favorite? Not exactly.
Quick tangent, because I cannot help myself. Bathrooms in Japan continue to be their own genre of entertainment. Sometimes they’re huge spa sanctuaries. Sometimes they’re so small you have to decide which limb to move first. Sometimes the toilet has more settings than a Tesla. And sometimes, like today, the whole setup looks like the starter kit for “living humbly.” Also, today’s pillow situation? 3 out of 10 on the Patrick Pillow Scale. But they redeemed themselves by having a robot zoom around collecting plates at breakfast like it was late for its shift at Disneyland.
After breakfast, we hopped on the Shinkansen to Kyoto and arrived by 11:30. Smooth, quiet, and fast enough that I’m worried this is now my new transportation standard.
Kyoto hit instantly different. This city is calm in a way Tokyo hints at and Osaka absolutely rejects. Historically, Kyoto was Japan’s imperial capital for over 1,000 years, so everything that feels quintessentially “Japan,” geisha culture, tea ceremonies, Zen gardens, temples, shrines, the maple and cherry blossom obsession, all grew up here. You can feel it. There’s a groundedness, a gentleness, a sense that traditions aren’t preserved here. They’re simply lived. We’ll be here four days, and I’m already excited for every minute.
We wandered to our hotel, which turned out to be a zen-hip hybrid with its own bakery and matcha and coffee stand. Confession time: I’ve never tried matcha. I’ve always assumed it tastes like blended lawn clippings. Matt, of course, is into anything green and foamy. But if I’m going to try matcha anywhere, it might as well be in the city that perfected it.
We wandered the neighborhood and immediately stumbled on Otani Hombyo Temple, just a block from our hotel. Quiet and beautiful. A little further and we found Matsubara Street, with wooden buildings straight out of a time capsule. Real crafts, real shops, none of the tacky tourist fluff.
It was also PACKED. Apparently dressing in a rented kimono and doing a multi-hour photoshoot is Kyoto’s national pastime. Full glam. Full commitment. Some had hired photographers and lighting assistants. Meanwhile Matt practically has to bribe me to appear in a photo unless he secretly snaps one. So dressing up for TikTok was not happening.
We dodged and weaved up the street, but it just kept getting more crowded until suddenly we were trapped in a slow-motion wave of people all climbing one very tall hill. Loudspeakers were telling everyone to keep left (which nobody listened to), and we couldn’t turn around even if we wanted to. Eventually we reached the source of the chaos: Kiyomizu-dera, one of the most iconic temples in Japan. Vibrant red, perched on the mountainside, glowing with the colors of thousands of maples. Stunning. Magical. And packed with enough tourists to fill a stadium.
We explored the temple grounds but were NOT about to follow the crowd back down, so we found a back route that took us through the largest cemetery I’ve ever seen. Peaceful, beautiful, slightly eerie, and zero crowds. 10 out of 10, would escape this way again.
After doing laundry (which feels like a sacred act at this point), Matt and I headed back out for dinner and stumbled upon the cutest, tiniest restaurant imaginable. Twelve seats. A room basically the size of a generous walk-in closet. Family-run. Packed with people from all over the world, at least six languages bouncing around the air, all happily eating okonomiyaki, wagyu steak, and a spread of incredible appetizers. Cozy, warm, delicious. My favorite meal yet.
Nagasaki update from Chris and Shauna: today they apparently decided they were starring in their own fitness documentary, because they walked 13 miles. THIRTEEN. On purpose. On vacation. Could not be me. They also visited the Atomic Bomb Museum and Peace Park, so their emotional Fitbit is probably at maximum capacity too. Meanwhile, Matt and I are here weaving through crowds of people in rented kimonos posing for their future modeling portfolios. Everyone’s journey is different. They’ll be meeting us tomorrow, presumably after completing a cool-down jog or scaling a small mountain.
Kyoto already feels special. Deeper, calmer, rooted in a way the other cities aren’t. If the rest of our stay is anything like today, it’s going to be unforgettable.
Day 11: Ten thousand gates, and then ramen
Today was our first full day wandering Kyoto, and naturally we celebrated that by walking 29,000 steps, because apparently we don’t know how to “take it easy” anymore. This trip has turned into a full-body workout disguised as a vacation.
We started with breakfast at the hotel, where I realized something important: I think I finally know how to use chopsticks. Not well. But well enough that I no longer look like I’m performing a small exorcism on my food. Growth!
Then we headed straight for Fushimi Inari Taisha, the land of 10,000 torii gates and 10 million tourists. Gorgeous? Absolutely. Crowded? Oh my sweet torii, YES. The crowds were so thick it felt like a single large organism trying to collectively climb a mountain.
And speaking of mountains, we climbed Mount Inari. Now, you THINK you’re going for a nice stroll under some pretty gates. Then suddenly you’re halfway up a mountain doing spiritual StairMaster. But we made it to the top, sweaty, triumphant, and still surrounded by people who looked strangely fresh. How??
The journey down was stunning. Glowing maples, fox statues wearing their little red aprons (spiritual bibs, essentially), thousands of gates, tiny shrines tucked everywhere. Kyoto really knows how to throw a scenic moment at you.
Also, walking etiquette in Japan remains a mystery. Tokyo: left side. Osaka: right side, for reasons unknown. Kyoto: anarchy. People walk wherever they want with the confidence of someone who is definitely not about to bump into me, except they DO. We are trying very hard to follow the rules. Unfortunately there are no rules. Only vibes.
After our mountain trek, we raced to catch a train to Uji, and wow. Uji might be my absolute favorite place we’ve seen so far. Calm. Not crowded. Stunning. We wandered along the river, crossed a rope bridge that looked questionably trustworthy, and spotted cranes standing in the shallows waiting for their next meal like little feathery philosophers. The trees were glowing. The whole place was magic.
And then, ramen. Real ramen. Not “I survived high school eating Cup O’ Noodles” ramen. OH. MY. GOD. I finally get it. This is food for the soul. This is healing broth. This is what Cup O’ Noodles sees when it dreams at night. I am officially a fan and need to figure out where in Washington I can find anything close to this, or how to make it at home without blowing up the kitchen.
Since Uji is basically the Vatican City of matcha, I tried matcha for the first time. Verdict? It’s fine. I ordered a matcha latte and tasted more milk than matcha. Respect the tradition, appreciate the aesthetics, but will I replace my regular latte with it? Absolutely not. I am a coffee creature at my core.
We headed back toward Kyoto, stopped by Nishiki Market for souvenir shopping, and found precisely zero of the things we wanted. Guess we’ll be going into full panic-shopping mode later this week. But let’s not talk about going home yet. I’m in denial.
Later in the evening, Chris and Shauna arrived after their five-hour train journey from Nagasaki, bright-eyed, full of energy, practically glowing from their 13-mile walk yesterday. Meanwhile, Matt and I were operating at the energy level of two overcooked noodles. But we rallied and met them on our rooftop lounge for drinks, bundled in blankets because Kyoto has suddenly decided winter is here.
Rumor says rain is coming tomorrow, but honestly? At this point rain just means “dramatic lighting for climbing more stairs.” Kyoto is ancient, beautiful, chaotic, peaceful, exhausting, and absolutely perfect. Tomorrow, we keep exploring, because apparently rest is for people who aren’t doing a 16-day cardio tour of Japan.
Day 12: Rain, monkeys, bamboo, and twelve judgmental cats
Today Kyoto decided to crank up the atmosphere by giving us a steady, moody drizzle, and honestly, the rain deserves a round of applause. It scared off just enough tourists that we weren’t trapped behind a wall of umbrellas operated by people with no apparent umbrella training. Meanwhile, as true Washingtonians, we walked through it like we were born for this. I still don’t own an umbrella and never will. Rain? That’s just hydration from the sky.
We kicked off the day by hiking straight up to the Iwatayama Monkey Park, because on this trip everything important is always up a hill. That’s where we witnessed one of the most unexpectedly heart-melting moments of the entire trip: a tiny baby monkey absolutely petrified to come out from the eaves of one of the buildings. He’d poke his head out, panic, scurry back, peek again, reconsider his life choices, retreat again. Meanwhile, the other monkeys around him were launching themselves across branches, running in circles, and establishing dominance like furry little CrossFit athletes.
But finally, in what I can only describe as peak “mom knows best” energy, his mother climbed down, scooped him up like a seasoned professional, and carried him off. It was adorable, emotional, and more compelling than half the shows in my Netflix queue. We stood there longer than we realized just watching the whole thing unfold. Definitely a highlight.
From there, we wandered through Arashiyama, the hills covered with glowing reds, oranges, and yellows while mist curled over everything like it had been professionally staged. The whole place looked like a travel documentary that forgot to hire its narrator.
Next up was Tenryū-ji Temple, a Zen wonderland complete with mossy paths, shimmering ponds, and gardens so perfectly manicured you know someone out there has dedicated their entire life to maintaining one single bush. The rain softened everything. Quiet, peaceful, almost dreamlike.
Then we stepped directly from the gardens into the iconic Arashiyama Bamboo Grove, and this, THIS, is where things got cinematic. The rain had thinned the crowds, so instead of a bamboo-themed mosh pit, we actually had space to breathe. The towering stalks swayed in the wind, creaking softly, the light filtered through in these ethereal green beams, and the whole place felt like the opening scene of a fantasy epic. This was the moment I fully expected Michelle Yeoh and a tiger to glide out between the bamboo, ready to deliver a dramatic monologue. Wrong country, wrong movie. But the vibe? One hundred percent correct.
From there we headed over to Kawaramachi to explore the shops and streets, and yes, Matt dragged us into Uniqlo again. At this point he’s basically preparing for his second career as the face of their U.S. expansion. He tries on clothes with the confidence of someone waiting to be discovered by a fashion scout. I swear he’s practicing poses when he thinks I’m not looking.
Then came the ambush: Matt and Shauna, both clearly suffering severe cat withdrawal, insisted we go to a cat café. And yes, I rolled my eyes the entire walk there. But inside? Fine. I admit it. The cats were adorable. We sat drinking coffee and eating bagels while 12 cats alternated between ignoring us, judging us, allowing us to pet them, and then ignoring us again. Authentic cat behavior.
And now I’m wondering: would a cat café succeed on Front Street in Poulsbo? Tourists would absolutely lose their minds. Locals would tolerate it. Cats would unionize. Could be a hit.
After even more wandering, through rain, alleyways, glowing leaves, and enough small shops to power the local economy, we finished the night at the hotel restaurant, which specializes in Japanese-Italian fusion. An odd combination, but honestly both cultures deeply respect noodles, so why not? After 30,000 steps, carbs are carbs and we are not in a position to judge.
Overall, a fantastic day. Rain-soaked, monkey-approved, bamboo-framed, cat-judged, Uniqlo-modeled, and noodle-fueled. Kyoto continues to be this surreal blend of mystical, chaotic, peaceful, exhausting, and magical, all at once. Tomorrow, more adventures. And probably more stairs.
Day 13: Pottery, emperors, a maple tunnel, and the wrong aisle at Donki
Our last full day in Kyoto, and somehow we managed to squeeze in pottery, palaces, burgers, maple tunnels, and a mild existential crisis over whether temples are starting to look the same. Truly a big day.
We started the morning at Toutensei Kawasaki, the little pottery shop dangerously close to our hotel. Like, “oops, I bought ceramics before breakfast” close. This place has been making Kyo ware and Kiyomizu ware since the Edo period. We’re talking centuries ago, when shoguns were still walking around and everyone wore sandals on purpose. The Kawasaki family moved into their traditional Kyo-machiya during the Meiji era, and now the eighth-generation owner, Takashi Kawasaki, runs the shop with the calm confidence of someone who has pottery in his bloodstream. He carries everything from elegant handmade pieces to practical everyday cups and dishes. Kyo ware, Kiyomizu ware, Arita ware, Mino ware. Basically all the wares.
His philosophy is simple: if you’re too scared to use it, what’s the point? Honestly, relatable. He was incredibly kind, chatting with us like we were old friends and even quizzing Matt on his Japanese, which Matt handled like a man praying for partial credit. Such a sweet guy, and one of those unexpected gems you only find when you wander into the right shop at the right moment.
From there we headed to the Kyoto Imperial Palace, because nothing says “relaxing morning” like walking through an enormous estate that used to house emperors. The grounds are massive, quiet, and honestly stunning. Matt became immediately obsessed with the glowing ginkgo trees, and by “obsessed” I mean our camera roll now looks like we are running a ginkgo-themed fan account. The leaves here don’t just turn yellow. They ignite. Matt was transfixed. He may leave me for a tree. I’d understand.
Next we wandered Kyoto’s streets, charming, calm, and cozy. Kyoto is the introvert of Japan’s major cities: quiet, beautiful, and minding its business while wearing a neutral-toned cardigan.
Next up: Nijō Castle, where we took a tour of the Honmaru Goten Palace. Walking through those halls, all polished floors, painted screens, and “don’t touch anything or you’ll destroy history,” I immediately wanted to go home and rewatch Shōgun. The aesthetic, the drama, the intrigue, all there. The only thing missing was a scheming lord popping out from behind a sliding door.
After communing with the spirits of feudal Japan, we did what any culturally enlightened travelers would do: we went to McDonald’s. I had the roasted soy sauce burger, which was shockingly good, and Matt got a shrimp burger, proudly declaring it “better than it has any right to be.” Sometimes you just need fast food. And in Japan, even the McDonald’s is polite, efficient, and delicious. Ronald McDonald bows here. Probably.
Meanwhile, Chris and Shauna opted for a low-key day: park hopping, reading books, and trying (unsuccessfully) to visit more cat cafés. Apparently even Kyoto cats get days off. Respect.
Post-McShrimp, we meandered more through Kyoto (because if we aren’t hitting 25,000 steps a day, are we even in Japan?) and then reunited with Chris and Shauna for our evening adventure: Mount Kurama. This time by TRAIN, not stairs. We boarded the Eizan Railway, and the train winds through the mountains, slowing down to glide through a tunnel of illuminated maple trees. At night. It was stunning, like drifting through a glowing, fiery forest portal. If a tengu had appeared tapping on the train window, I’d have believed it.
After our magical Kurama maple-tunnel experience, Matt and I headed to Don Quijote, Japan’s glorious, chaotic, overstuffed discount megastore that sells everything from snacks to skincare to samurai wigs. If Walmart, a carnival prize tent, and a late-night QVC warehouse had a baby, Donki would be its final form.
But I wasn’t there for just anything. I was on a mission. A spiritual journey, if you will. Somewhere earlier this trip, I saw a Japanese commercial advertising a miracle head massager, a device that, according to the visuals (which were entirely in Japanese), would massage your scalp, regrow your hair, lift your face, smooth your skin, probably do your taxes, and maybe moisturize your soul. Basically, it looked like a vibrating helmet of youth and I needed it.
So at Donki, I’m scanning shelves like an obsessed game-show contestant. Hair care aisle? No luck. Electronics? Also no. Beauty gadgets? Nothing. Massage tools? Nope. I’m deep into the hunt, determination in my eyes, hope in my heart, when Matt taps me on the shoulder and quietly says: “You know you’re in the vibrator aisle, right?”
And sure enough, this whole time, while passionately searching for my miracle anti-aging scalp-saving machine, I had wandered straight into Donki’s adult wellness section. Not just one shelf. Not a small corner. An entire aisle. Vibrators of every shape, size, color, and situation. Items that definitely vibrate, but definitely do not lift your face or regrow your hair. Next to them? Lingerie, costumes, things with zippers I’m not qualified to operate. And there I was, reading packaging like, “Huh, this doesn’t look like something you put on your head.”
Needless to say, the head massager was not there (and if it was, I hope to God it wasn’t on that shelf). So the hunt continues. But hey, if anyone needs recommendations for a different kind of self-care device, Donki’s selection is comprehensive.
We ended the night meeting back up with Chris and Shauna at the rooftop bar, bundled in blankets for warmth (Kyoto has suddenly decided it is winter), comparing notes on our days like seasoned explorers. Their day: peaceful, gentle, bookish, thwarted by cats. Our day: pottery, emperors, castles, burgers, maple lasers, and adult aisles at Donki.
As we wrap up our Kyoto stay, I have to admit: Kyoto is magical. Beautiful. Calm. Charming. But also, there is a temple on every corner. Every. Corner. I swear I saw one inside another one, Inception-style. And while I deeply appreciate the history and beauty, I will also confess that once you hit temple number six or seven, your brain starts categorizing: fox shrine, boar shrine, dragon shrine, shrine with too many stairs, shrine with no stairs (rare, cherish it), shrine I think I’ve seen before but actually haven’t. But Kyoto stole our hearts regardless.
Tomorrow we pack up and head back to Tokyo for our final day. And yes, I will still be searching for that mythical head massager.
Day 14: Back to Tokyo, a cat scam, and Team Monja
Our last full day in Japan. I’m in denial. Matt’s in denial. Even the trains sound sad when they pull into the station now. But we kicked things off strong with one final Shinkansen ride, and honestly at this point I’m ready to file adoption papers for one of these trains. They’re quiet, fast, smooth, and clean, everything Americans promise on LinkedIn but are not in real life.
We rolled into Tokyo and checked into what might actually be our nicest hotel yet. It’s like the hotel designer took notes from all four of our previous stays and said, “Okay, let’s give them the good lighting from Osaka, the calm vibe from Kyoto, the fancy bidet from Tokyo number one, and maybe a room bigger than a shoebox.” Plus, it’s attached to Tokyo Station, a place so big and confusing you could vacation inside it. It has malls inside malls inside train tunnels inside food courts. You could lose a child, your wallet, and your sense of identity in there and no one would ever find them again.
What blows my mind is remembering our first night in Tokyo, which now feels like it happened during the Meiji Restoration. Back then, Matt and I were two small-town bumpkins thrown into sensory overload: the lights, the crowds, signs stacked on signs, everything yelling at you in neon. And now? We walk through Tokyo like locals. We’ve got the escalator etiquette down, we know which train car to board, we even know where to stand so we don’t get body-checked by commuters. Look at us. Thriving.
After dropping our bags, we headed toward Ueno Park, but not before detouring through Yanaka Cemetery, because Shauna had heard there were supposed to be “tons of cats.” Let me tell you: we were promised cats. We were sold cats. We received zero cats. Not one. Not even a shady stray judging us from afar. Just acres of headstones and us wandering around like wannabe feline researchers. A complete cat scam. But still peaceful and beautiful.
From there we wandered into Ueno Park, which is basically Tokyo’s version of Central Park but somehow calmer and impeccably clean. This place is HUGE. Museums everywhere, ponds, paths, shrines, a zoo. It’s like someone combined Central Park with a university campus and a museum district. And the best part? No crowds. NO. CROWDS. Japan really blessed us on our final day with a quiet, lovely stroll where I didn’t have to elbow-dodge a single tourist. A Thanksgiving miracle.
We wandered for hours with almost zero steps added to the daily total. The universe apparently decided we deserved a break. I didn’t even have to fake-smile while pretending my legs didn’t hurt. Great success.
Afterward, we returned to Tokyo Station for our last round of souvenir shopping (and let me tell you, nothing tests the human soul like trying to choose between 45 types of KitKats and three shelves of character socks). Bags acquired, we headed to monjayaki for dinner.
Monjayaki, in case you haven’t been initiated, is like the gooey Tokyo cousin of okonomiyaki. You cook it on a hot griddle right at the table, a sizzling pile of batter, cabbage, veggies, meat or seafood, and scrape it up with tiny metal spatulas. Matt and I discovered it earlier in the trip and loved it. Chris and Shauna? Slightly terrified. But we won them over. Team Monja for life.
And of course, no final night is complete without one last konbini stop, a ritual at this point, where we picked up our farewell snacks before calling it an early night.
Tomorrow we fly home. Well, “tomorrow” is complicated. It’s currently 9 PM Thursday night here. Thanksgiving. Back home? It’s 4 AM Thursday morning, also Thanksgiving, but barely. We leave Tokyo on Friday at 6 PM. We arrive home in Washington on Friday at 10:30 AM. So, yes, I’m about to live the longest Friday of my life. Time travel is real and apparently you don’t need a DeLorean, just Hawaiian Airlines.
Japan, what a journey. One more day to wrap it all up before we head back to real life. And a very, very long Friday.
Farewell, Japan. Until next time.
This morning we took one last long, casual stroll through Tokyo, weaving through the commercial district and slipping past the Imperial Palace grounds. We met up with our other travel half, Chris and Shauna, and wandered together for a while, soaking in the crisp air and those golden leaves that feel like Tokyo’s final farewell. Eventually, though, we had to part ways. They get to stay a couple more days to savor just a little more Tokyo magic. Matt and I headed off to Narita to begin the bittersweet journey home.
As we sat on the train, I started replaying everything from the past two weeks, and honestly, I don’t know how to summarize a trip that felt this big, this beautiful, and this full of heart. But I’ll try.
Japan stunned us. Not just with its neon cityscapes, ancient temples, glowing ginkgo trees, mountain shrines, or the fact that convenience store food is actually good. With something deeper. The people. The kindness. The quiet consideration woven into every moment.
There’s a cultural grace here that’s hard to put into words. A way of moving through the world without imposing on others, of taking pride in whatever work you do, of contributing to the whole with sincerity instead of spectacle. Every meal was made with care. Every interaction was warm. Even the trains, full, busy, packed, were peaceful, because everyone understands they’re sharing a space. And when tourists acted, well, like tourists, the locals responded with patience, understanding, and more kindness than was deserved.
The beauty of this place isn’t just in the scenery, though the glowing maple hillsides of Kyoto and the misty rivers of Uji might be some of the most breathtaking things I’ve ever seen. It’s in the small moments: a shopkeeper eager to help, a stranger making room on a train, a smile at a crosswalk, the quiet bow of gratitude you start returning instinctively.
We laughed our way through DisneySea and Disneyland. We survived (and loved) Tokyo’s chaos. We explored Osaka, Hiroshima, Miyajima, Kyoto, Arashiyama, Uji, each with its own rhythm, its own energy, its own charm. We ate everything from wagyu to ramen to konbini chicken to monjayaki goo scraped off a grill. We became professionals at trains. We became worse at walking on the correct side of escalators. We karaoked. We shopped. We climbed mountains. We wandered temples. We got lost, and then not lost, and then very lost again. And through all of it, we found ourselves falling in love with this country in a way we didn’t expect.
Japan changed us, in big ways and in small ones. It slowed us down. It opened our eyes. It reminded us how beautiful humans can be when they choose kindness, pride, patience, and community.
So yes, this is goodbye for now. But it won’t be for long. We’ll be back. There’s too much here, too much heart, too much wonder, to only see once.
ありがとう日本. Thank you, Japan. We’ll see you again.
— Patrick