A Long-Standing List, A Quiet Decision
Japan has been on my list for as long as I’ve had a list.
I’m writing this from Tokyo, with Osaka and Kyoto still ahead of me—still slightly disoriented by the time change and the sheer scale of the city.
Tokyo is crowded in a way I wasn’t fully prepared for, and somehow still gracious.
Every interaction has been kind.
Every line moves.
Every bow lands with a sincerity I’m trying to remember to return.
Why Now
I’ve thought a lot about why I came now.
The honest answer isn’t dramatic. It’s this:
I want to see as much of the world as I can while I’m physically, mentally, emotionally, and financially able to do it.
That’s the whole sentence.
There’s no crisis behind it. No breaking point that pushed me onto a plane. Just a quiet recognition that those four kinds of “able” don’t always travel together—and they don’t stay open forever.
The window where all of them align is shorter than we like to admit.
So I booked the trip.
What I Came For
Curiosity, mostly.
Japan has fascinated me for years—the design sensibility, the food culture, the relationship to craft, the way the country holds tradition and futurism in the same hand. I wanted to feel it in person rather than read about it.
And honestly? I came for my friends.
The best moments of this trip so far have been the unscripted ones—meals stretched too long, walking together with no destination, laughing about something that won’t translate to a caption.
Those hours have been worth the flight all by themselves.
A Few Things That Stayed With Me
teamLab Planets
I went in expecting an art installation and walked out feeling like I’d been gently rearranged.
The water and earth rooms in particular—I won’t try to describe them. Go, if you ever can.
Hakone Open-Air Museum
We spent most of a day there, and I keep coming back to it.
Sculpture set against landscape. Weather as part of the experience. No glass between you and the work.
It made me think about how often we put things behind walls that were meant to be lived around.
Tokyo Itself
Crowded, yes—but the crowd here moves differently.
There’s a quiet competence to it. Nobody is yelling. Nobody seems to be in your way, even when they technically are.
I’m taking notes.
From above, the city shifts again. Government buildings. Layered skyline. Older and newer architecture sitting side by side without either one apologizing for itself.
There’s an intentionality here—even in what looks utilitarian.
The Lens I Travel Through
I ask myself the same question everywhere I go:
Could I live here?
I haven’t been in Tokyo long enough to answer that honestly. And I’m aware I’m seeing it through a specific window—I’m here during Golden Week, one of Japan’s busiest stretches.
The crowds, the pace, the energy—this isn’t a normal Tuesday in October.
So I’m holding my impressions loosely.
What I really wanted—and didn’t quite have time for—was to wander through residential neighborhoods. To see everyday life unfolding:
Kids walking home from school.
Someone watering their plants.
Laundry on the line.
The version of a city that isn’t trying to impress you.
That’s where you start to feel whether a place could actually be yours.
Maybe next time.
Why This Matters to Me
I don’t separate how I travel from how I live.
In both my personal and professional worlds, I watch people navigate real transitions:
Aging parents.
Downsizing.
Moving in together.
Figuring out what the next chapter looks like.
That’s part of why I’m here.
I want to take the trips. Ask the questions. See the world while I’m able to.
And if you’re reading this in the middle of your own transition, I hope you can carve out something for yourself—even if it’s small.
A walk.
An afternoon.
A weekend away.
It counts.
What’s Next
Osaka and Kyoto are next.
I’ll come home full of food and ideas—and probably a little tired. But I already know this trip is going to keep paying me back for a long time.
If Japan is on your list—or anywhere is—I hope you go while all four of yours are still open.
