Perhaps it is Tokyo at night — trains arriving on time, convenience stores open around the clock, vending machines on almost every corner, and a city that somehow manages to move millions of people with remarkable order.

Perhaps it is sushi, cherry blossoms, temples, anime, or Mount Fuji.

All of those things are Japan.

But they are not the whole of it.

Japan today is a thoroughly modern country. We enjoy convenience every day, often without thinking much about it. Packages arrive quickly. Public transportation works. Food is easy to find almost anywhere. Even in a small town, you are rarely very far from something that makes daily life easier.

At the same time, Japan no longer has the overwhelming economic presence it once seemed to have.

The country that amazed the world with its rapid postwar growth now appears quieter. Its relative economic position has declined, the population is shrinking, and from abroad Japan may sometimes look like a country whose best days are behind it.

Maybe even some Japanese people feel that way.

But I don't think Japan is finished.

Not even close.

Because there is another Japan underneath the statistics.

A country that begins with a story

According to Japan's oldest mythology, Japan did not simply appear as a piece of land on a map.

The islands themselves were born from the gods.

Of course, this is mythology, not history in the modern scientific sense.

But myths matter.

They tell us something about how people once understood the world around them — and sometimes, those old ways of seeing things remain long after people stop consciously believing the stories.

In Japan, nature was never simply scenery.

Mountains, enormous trees, waterfalls, rocks, rivers and even unusual places in the landscape could be regarded as dwelling places of kami — spiritual presences that are difficult to translate neatly into the English word “god.”

There is an old expression:

yaoyorozu no kami — 八百万の神.

Literally, it means “eight million gods.”

It does not really mean that someone once counted exactly eight million of them.

It means something closer to countless spirits.

The idea that the world around us may contain something deserving of respect.

You can still feel it

Most Japanese people today are not walking around consciously thinking about yaoyorozu no kami.

Modern Japan is modern Japan.

We use smartphones. We shop online. We commute to work. We worry about salaries, school, mortgages, and what to eat for dinner.

But I think some of the old sensibility is still here.

You can see it when people pause before entering a shrine.

You can see it in the way an old tree may be protected rather than simply removed.

You can see it in seasonal food, in festivals, in the attention paid to the first blossoms of spring or the changing leaves of autumn.

And perhaps you can see it in something as small as cherry blossoms.

When people outside Japan imagine cherry blossoms, they usually imagine pale pink flowers.

And yes, most of them are.

But cherry blossoms can be green, too.

There is a variety called Gyoiko, with blossoms whose petals contain streaks of green.

It appears a little later in spring than the famous Somei Yoshino.

You could visit Japan during cherry blossom season, take hundreds of photographs of pink trees, and leave without ever knowing that green cherry blossoms existed.

They were there.

You just didn't happen to see them.

And that, in a way, is what this site is about.

Japan is often hiding in plain sight

The famous parts of Japan are famous for good reasons.

You should see Kyoto.

You should eat sushi.

You should stand beneath cherry blossoms if you have the chance.

I am not here to tell you that the popular things are somehow less authentic just because they are popular.

But there is always another layer.

A small restaurant you would walk past because there is no English menu.

A landscape that never appears on a “Top 10 Japan” list.

A seasonal dish whose meaning is difficult to understand from its ingredients alone.

A custom that Japanese people themselves rarely stop to explain because, to us, it is simply normal.

Or a green cherry blossom appearing a little later than the pink ones everyone came to see.

Google can tell you what exists.

I want to tell you what I would notice.

What I would choose.

And sometimes, what might be worth looking at twice.

So when you come to Japan, by all means enjoy the convenience, the cities, the food, and the places you have dreamed of seeing.

But every now and then, look beyond them.

There is an old country living quietly inside the modern one.

You may find it in a shrine.

You may find it in a mountain.

You may find it on your dinner plate.

Or you may find it in a cherry blossom you didn't know could be green.

What does Japan look like to you?

Perhaps by the time you leave, the answer will be a little different.

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Tokyo Is Not Japan: What Changes When You Leave the City

Japan gets quieter, slower — and sometimes a little harder to navigate.

Spend a few days in Tokyo and you may start to feel that traveling in Japan is surprisingly easy.

Trains come constantly. Convenience stores are everywhere. Restaurants stay open late. Google Maps usually gets you where you need to go. Major stations have English signs, and many places are used to seeing international visitors.

You begin to relax.

Maybe you even think:

Japan is actually pretty easy to travel around.

And in Tokyo, it often is.

But there is one thing worth remembering.

Tokyo is not Japan.

Leave the capital — and especially leave Japan’s major cities — and the rules of travel begin to change.

Not dramatically. Not all at once.

Just enough that you should know what to expect.

The timetable suddenly matters

In Tokyo, missing a train usually means very little.

Another one will probably come soon.

That creates a habit without you realizing it: you stop thinking about schedules.

Outside the major cities, that habit can become a problem.

In regional areas, trains may run every 30 minutes, every hour, or even less frequently. Local buses can be more limited still. In some onsen towns and mountain areas, missing one bus may mean a long wait.

So something that barely matters in Tokyo becomes part of your travel plan.

The timetable matters again.

This does not mean rural Japan is difficult to visit. It simply means you need to travel differently.

Check the return train.

Check the last bus.

And if you are heading somewhere remote, look at the schedule before you arrive — not after.

Tokyo allows spontaneity.

The countryside often rewards preparation.

English gradually becomes less visible

Tokyo is full of international visitors.

Major hotels, stations, department stores and tourist attractions are accustomed to helping people from overseas.

And even then, as I wrote in another JPL story, English is not spoken as widely as many travelers expect.

So if this is true even in Tokyo, you can probably imagine what happens once you leave it.

That does not mean everyone suddenly stops communicating with you the moment you cross the city limits.

Cities such as Osaka, Kyoto, Sapporo, Fukuoka, Hiroshima and Sendai are still relatively easy for international travelers. Major stations and hotels usually have enough English support to get by.

But go one step further.

A small onsen town.

A family-run ryokan.

A local soba restaurant.

A bus stop in the mountains.

A neighborhood izakaya.

English signs become less common. English menus may disappear. Staff may know only a few words of English — or none at all.

And that is perfectly normal.

You are no longer in a place designed primarily around visitors.

A translation app becomes much more useful here.

So does patience.

And, surprisingly often, pointing at something and smiling works just fine.

Restaurants become more local — in every sense

Eating in Tokyo is easy.

If one restaurant is full, there are ten more nearby.

If you cannot understand the menu, you may find photos, English descriptions, online reviews or another place around the corner.

Outside large cities, the situation changes.

You may find a small restaurant with no English menu.

The menu might be handwritten.

The daily specials might be written on a board.

Reservations may only be accepted by telephone.

Google Maps may show surprisingly little information.

And some places may close much earlier than you expected.

At first, this can feel inconvenient.

But there is another side to it.

These are often the places where Japanese people themselves eat.

You may see local fish that never appears on a Tokyo tourist menu. Mountain vegetables. Regional noodles. Local beef. Small dishes whose names mean absolutely nothing to you even after Google translates them.

You may look at the menu and think:

What on earth is this?

That can be frustrating.

It can also be one of the most interesting parts of traveling in Japan.

The less standardized the experience becomes, the more local it often becomes too.

Opening hours matter more than you think

In Tokyo, a closed restaurant is rarely a serious problem.

You walk another 100 meters.

Problem solved.

In a small town, things can be very different.

Restaurants may close after lunch and reopen for dinner.

Some may close surprisingly early.

Others may have irregular holidays.

And in a quiet onsen town, there may simply not be many alternatives.

This becomes especially important if your accommodation does not include dinner.

Imagine arriving at 7:30 p.m., dropping your bags at the hotel and deciding to look for somewhere to eat.

In Shinjuku?

No problem.

In a small mountain town?

You may suddenly discover that your choices are very limited.

This is one reason ryokan stays with dinner included can make so much sense outside the cities.

In Tokyo, you can decide where to eat at the last minute.

In rural Japan, sometimes it is worth thinking about dinner before you get there.

Having some cash becomes more useful again

Japan has changed a lot.

Credit cards, IC cards and QR payments are now common in many places, especially in cities.

You do not need to walk around Japan carrying a huge stack of cash.

But outside the major urban areas, having some yen in your wallet can make life easier.

A small restaurant may prefer cash.

An old ticket machine may not accept your card.

A local bus may work differently from the transport systems you used in Tokyo.

A small bathhouse, temple, market stall or family-run shop may still be cash only.

This does not mean rural Japan is a “cash-only world.”

It simply means that the farther you travel from the biggest tourist centers, the less I would rely on one payment method alone.

A little cash is useful insurance.

Leaving Tokyo does not mean entering rural Japan

There is one important distinction here.

Japan is not simply:

Tokyo → countryside.

There are many levels in between.

Osaka is a huge city.

Kyoto receives enormous numbers of international visitors.

Sapporo and Fukuoka are major regional centers with excellent transport, large shopping districts and plenty of hotels and restaurants.

Hiroshima, Sendai, Nagoya and many other cities are also easy places to travel.

So when I say that things change outside Tokyo, I do not mean that you will immediately find yourself stranded at a bus stop surrounded by rice fields.

The change is gradual.

Tokyo.

Then regional cities.

Then smaller cities.

Then towns.

Then perhaps a mountain road leading to an onsen where the bus comes only a few times a day.

With every step, Japan becomes a little less convenient.

And often, a little more interesting.

And this is exactly why you should leave Tokyo

It would be easy to read all of this and reach the wrong conclusion.

Fewer trains.

Less English.

Shorter opening hours.

More planning.

Why bother?

Because the same things that make travel slightly less convenient are often the things that allow you to see a different side of Japan.

The crowds become smaller.

The streets become quieter.

Chain restaurants become less dominant.

You start noticing how people actually live.

A local supermarket.

A tiny train station.

A family restaurant where everyone seems to know each other.

An outdoor bath looking over a river.

An old shopping street with almost no tourists.

None of these places may appear on a “Top 10 Things to Do in Japan” list.

That does not make them less Japanese.

Quite the opposite.

Tokyo is one of the greatest cities in the world, and I would never tell a first-time visitor to skip it.

But Tokyo is also unusually large, unusually convenient and unusually international by Japanese standards.

It is a fantastic place to begin your trip.

It is just not the whole story.

Tokyo may be one of the easiest places to travel in Japan.

But it is not necessarily the place where you understand Japan best.

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Onsen Is More Than a Bath: Understanding Japan’s Hot Spring Culture

Onsen in Japan is about much more than soaking in hot water.

When people imagine an onsen in Japan, the picture is often something like this:

A beautiful wooden ryokan.
A steaming outdoor bath surrounded by snow.
Maybe a traditional Japanese dinner waiting afterward.

That certainly exists.

But it is only one version of onsen in Japan.

For Japanese people, onsen are not simply a luxury travel experience. They have a much longer history, and today they can be found in places ranging from remote mountain villages to seaside towns — and even in the middle of cities.

There is also no single way to experience one.

To understand onsen in Japan, it helps to start with what they were originally for.

Onsen Wasn't Originally a Luxury

Long before onsen became a popular part of Japanese tourism, people visited hot springs for a much more practical reason: to recover.

For centuries, Japanese people traveled to hot spring areas and stayed for days or even weeks, bathing repeatedly while resting their bodies.

This practice is called toji.

Farmers might go after a hard agricultural season. Fishermen and other people doing physically demanding work also used hot springs as places to rest and recover. People suffering from injuries or illness came hoping that the water and the extended period of rest would help them heal.

In other words, onsen was once closer to healing than tourism.

Over time, this changed.

As transportation improved and tourism developed, hot spring towns became places not only for recovery but also for vacations. Ryokan were built, local food became part of the experience, and staying at an onsen gradually became one of Japan's classic forms of domestic travel.

But I think some of the old idea remains.

Even today, Japanese people often talk about going to an onsen when they are tired.

Not necessarily because they believe the water will magically cure them.

Sometimes they simply want to get away, soak in hot water, eat something good, sleep well, and do almost nothing.

That feeling is still a very Japanese part of onsen culture.

Onsen Can Be Almost Anywhere

Another common image of Japanese onsen is a hot spring hidden deep in the mountains.

And yes — some of the most beautiful ones are.

You can find onsen surrounded by forests, beside rivers, high in the mountains, or in places covered with snow in winter.

But that is not the whole picture.

Japan has hot springs across the country.

There are onsen near the sea where you can sit in an outdoor bath looking at the ocean.

There are famous hot spring towns built around natural sources that have been used for hundreds of years.

There are small local onsen in rural areas where most of the people bathing may simply be residents from nearby.

And there are even hot spring facilities in or close to major cities.

So you do not necessarily have to travel deep into the countryside to experience one.

There is one useful distinction to know, however.

Not every Japanese public bath is an onsen.

A sento, for example, is traditionally a neighborhood public bath. It may use ordinary heated water rather than natural hot spring water.

To a visitor, a sento and an onsen facility may sometimes look similar: you take off your clothes, wash yourself first, and then enter a large shared bath.

But culturally and technically, they are not quite the same thing.

This is one reason why simply searching for “Japanese bath” can lead to very different experiences.

There Is No Single “Onsen Experience”

Perhaps the most useful thing to understand before visiting an onsen is this:

Onsen is not one type of place.

You might stay at a traditional ryokan, where the hot spring is part of a larger experience including a Japanese-style room, dinner and breakfast.

You might stay at a large onsen hotel, with several baths, outdoor baths and other facilities.

You might visit a day-use onsen, pay an entrance fee, take a bath and leave a few hours later without staying overnight.

You might find a tiny, independently run bath in a small town.

Some hot spring areas also have simple public bathhouses used by local residents.

And even the baths themselves vary.

There are indoor baths.

There are rotenburo — open-air baths.

There are private baths that couples or families can sometimes reserve.

There are foot baths where you do not need to undress at all.

Some places are modern and beautifully designed.

Others are old, simple and slightly worn.

And sometimes, the old and simple one is the experience I would choose.

That is why I would not say there is a single “best onsen in Japan.”

It depends on what you want.

Do you want beautiful scenery?

A traditional ryokan experience?

Excellent food?

A quiet local bath?

A convenient place that you can visit from Tokyo?

Or somewhere remote enough that getting there is part of the experience?

Those are very different trips.

Onsen Is More Than Hot Water

Of course, at its simplest, an onsen is a place to soak in hot water.

But in Japan, it has become something more than that.

It has been a place for healing.

A place for rest.

A reason to travel.

A part of local communities.

And today, it can be anything from an elegant ryokan stay to an ordinary afternoon bath used by people who live nearby.

So when you come to Japan, I would not recommend choosing an onsen simply because it appears on a “Top 10” list.

First decide what kind of onsen experience you actually want.

Because the best choice for you may not be the most famous one.

And it may not be the one you imagined before coming to Japan.

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Not All Onsen Are the Same — What “Gensen Kakenagashi” Actually Means

The view matters. The bath matters. But if I were choosing an onsen stay, I would also look at the water itself.

When people choose an onsen hotel or ryokan in Japan, they often look at the obvious things first.

The view.
The room.
The outdoor bath.
Maybe a private onsen attached to the room.

All of those matter.

But there is another part of the experience that is easy to miss, especially if you are booking from outside Japan:

The hot spring water itself is not the same everywhere.

Some onsen smell strongly of sulfur.
Some are almost completely clear and odorless.
Some feel slightly slippery on the skin.
Some contain a lot of salt.
And even when two hotels use water from the same hot spring area, they may not use that water in exactly the same way.

This is where a few Japanese onsen terms become useful.

And one of the most important is:

Gensen kakenagashi — 源泉かけ流し.

First: what kind of onsen water is it?

Before talking about gensen kakenagashi, there is one distinction worth understanding.

There are really two different questions when you look at an onsen.

1. What kind of water is it?

and

2. How is that water used in the bath?

The first question is about the spring type — the minerals and characteristics of the water itself.

Japan officially classifies hot springs according to their temperature and mineral composition, and you may see some of these names when looking at a ryokan website.

You do not need to memorize them all.

But these are a few you may notice.

Sulfur springs — 硫黄泉

This is probably closest to what many travelers imagine when they think of a dramatic Japanese hot spring.

Sulfur springs can have that distinctive “eggy” smell, and depending on the spring, the water may appear milky, blueish or greenish.

If you arrive somewhere like Hakone and immediately think,

“Now this smells like an onsen.”

there is a good chance sulfur is involved.

But strong smell and cloudy water are not requirements for a good onsen.

They are simply one type of experience.

Chloride springs — 塩化物泉

These contain a relatively high level of salt.

The water may look completely ordinary, but the experience can be very different from sulfurous water.

Chloride springs are common in various parts of Japan, including some coastal hot-spring areas, and are often described in Japan as baths that keep you feeling warm after you get out.

Atami, for example, has a long history of chloride-rich hot spring water.

Bicarbonate springs — 炭酸水素塩泉

These can sometimes have a softer or slightly slippery feel on the skin.

You may see them marketed with expressions such as bijin no yu — literally, “beautiful-skin water.”

I would not choose an onsen based on a beauty claim alone.

But the texture of the water can certainly be part of what makes one onsen feel different from another.

Simple springs — 単純温泉

This name causes one of the easiest misunderstandings.

“Simple hot spring” sounds as if it means:

basic, cheap or somehow less authentic.

It does not.

Simple spring is an actual Japanese hot-spring classification. It generally means the concentration of dissolved components is relatively low rather than being dominated by one particular mineral.

Many simple springs are clear and gentle-feeling.

So if you see “simple hot spring” on a hotel website, do not read it as “inferior onsen.”

It is describing the water — not grading it.

Then what does “Gensen Kakenagashi” mean?

Now we get to the second question:

What happens to that water after it comes out of the ground?

You may see the Japanese words:

源泉かけ流し

written in English as:

Gensen kakenagashi
Free-flowing hot spring water
or sometimes simply 100% natural hot spring

These English descriptions can be confusing because they are not always used consistently.

In the basic sense, kakenagashi means fresh hot spring water is continuously added to the bath and the overflow is allowed to run out rather than being collected and circulated back into the bath.

That is different from a circulating system, where bath water is filtered and reused.

And here is an important detail:

“Gensen kakenagashi” does not necessarily mean completely untouched water.

According to the Japan Spa Association's terminology, gensen kakenagashi does not allow added water, but the spring water may still be heated if necessary.

There is an even stricter expression:

Gensen 100% kakenagashi — 源泉100％かけ流し

Under that terminology, neither additional water nor additional heating is used.

This distinction is something many travelers — and probably quite a few Japanese people — never think about.

Why would an onsen add water or heat the spring?

Because nature does not produce hotel-ready bathwater.

A natural spring may emerge at 30°C.

That is too cool for the bath the ryokan wants to provide, so it may need to be heated.

Another spring may emerge at 70°C or even hotter.

Obviously, you cannot simply put guests into it.

Some facilities cool extremely hot water naturally or through heat exchange. Others may add water.

And some springs simply do not produce enough water to keep large hotel baths constantly filled with fresh source water, which is one reason circulation systems are widely used.

None of this automatically makes an onsen “bad.”

It simply tells you how the natural resource is being used.

So is gensen kakenagashi always better?

Not necessarily.

This is where I would be careful with rankings.

A small mountain ryokan with a modest bath may be able to use fresh source water continuously.

A large luxury hotel with several enormous baths may need a completely different system.

And a spectacular sulfur spring is not automatically better than a clear simple spring.

They are different experiences.

For me, the words gensen kakenagashi are a very positive sign — especially if I am choosing a trip specifically for the onsen itself.

But they are not the only thing I would look at.

What I would actually check

If the onsen water matters to me, I would look for these things before booking:

What is the spring type?
Sulfur? Chloride? Bicarbonate? Simple spring? Something else?

Is the water free-flowing or circulated?

Has water been added?

Has the spring been heated?

And if I were booking an expensive room with a private onsen, I would check one more thing:

Does the bath in my room use the same hot spring water as the main bath?

Do not automatically assume that it does.

A ryokan can have wonderful natural hot spring baths downstairs while the bath attached to a particular room uses the water differently — or, depending on the property, may not be an onsen at all.

If the private bath is one of the main reasons you are paying for the room, this is worth checking.

The label is only the beginning

For a first visit to an onsen, you do not need to become an expert in Japanese geology.

You do not need to memorize mineral concentrations.

And you certainly do not need to choose a ryokan like a chemist.

But once you understand these two questions —

What kind of water is it?

and

How is that water used?

— Japanese onsen descriptions start to make much more sense.

A beautiful outdoor bath overlooking the mountains may be wonderful.

But sometimes the reason I would choose one onsen over another is something you cannot see in the photograph at all.

It is the water.

Going deeper

Deep Guide: 4 Onsen Stays I Would Choose in Hakone and Atami for the Water Itself

Not just beautiful baths — four places I would look at because of the spring itself, how the water is used, and the kind of onsen experience it gives you.

→Read the Deep Guide

kn . 9/5/26 kn . 9/5/26

Do You Really Need to Take the Train Everywhere in Tokyo?

Sometimes a taxi is faster, easier — and not as expensive as you might think.

Tokyo has one of the best public transportation systems in the world.

Trains are frequent, reliable, and usually much cheaper than taxis. For many journeys, they are clearly the best choice.

But that does not mean you should take the train everywhere.

When people plan a trip to Tokyo, they often compare only the time shown between two stations. What they may not consider is everything around that journey: walking to the station, finding the correct entrance, navigating a large station, changing lines, and walking again after they arrive.

Sometimes the train journey itself is easy.

Getting to and from the train is the exhausting part.

Tokyo stations can be much bigger than they look

On a map, your hotel may appear to be close to a station.

But “close to the station” does not necessarily mean close to the platform you need.

Major stations such as Shinjuku, Tokyo, Shibuya, and Ikebukuro can feel like small underground cities. They have multiple railway companies, many platforms, long passageways, and dozens of exits.

Even Japanese people occasionally take the wrong exit.

A route may look like a simple 15-minute train journey, but the complete trip could include:

A 10-minute walk from your hotel
Several minutes finding the right platform
A train ride
A transfer inside a large station
Another walk from the destination station

This may be perfectly manageable in comfortable weather with no luggage.

It feels very different when you are carrying suitcases, walking in heavy rain, or already tired after a full day.

Short taxi rides can be more reasonable than expected

Taxis in Tokyo are not cheap compared with trains.

But for a short journey, the difference may be smaller than many visitors imagine—especially when two or three people are traveling together.

Suppose a taxi saves you a transfer, a long station walk, and 20 minutes outside in the summer heat. The train will probably still cost less, but the taxi may offer better value for that particular journey.

This is especially true when:

You have large bags
It is raining heavily
Tokyo is extremely hot and humid
Someone in your group has difficulty walking
You are traveling with children
Three people can share the fare
You are tired after dinner
Your hotel and destination are not both close to convenient stations

The important question is not simply:

“Which option is cheaper?”

It is:

“What am I getting for the extra money?”

Sometimes you are paying not just for transportation, but for less walking, fewer stairs, no transfers, and a direct ride to the entrance of your hotel or restaurant.

But the train still wins surprisingly often

This is not an argument for taking taxis everywhere.

There are many journeys where the train is clearly faster, cheaper, and easier.

If both your starting point and destination are close to stations on the same convenient line, taking a taxi may make little sense.

Shinjuku to Ikebukuro is a good example. Both are major stations with frequent direct train services. A taxi has to travel through city traffic, while the train moves quickly between the two.

Longer journeys across Tokyo can also become expensive by taxi. During busy periods, traffic may remove any time advantage.

I would usually choose the train when:

Both places are close to stations
The route is direct
There is no difficult transfer
I am traveling alone without luggage
Road traffic is likely to be heavy
The taxi journey covers a long distance

The point is not that taxis are better than trains.

The point is that you should compare the whole journey, not only the station-to-station part.

Luggage changes the decision

Tokyo’s railway system is designed to move enormous numbers of people efficiently.

It is not always designed around a traveler carrying two large suitcases.

Many stations have elevators, but the most convenient elevator may not be close to your platform or exit. During crowded periods, moving luggage through a station can be slow and uncomfortable.

This matters most on the day you arrive and the day you leave.

After a long flight, a complicated transfer that looks easy on a route-planning app may not feel easy at all. On your final day, taking a taxi from your hotel to a station with a direct airport connection may be much more comfortable than carrying luggage through several local train transfers.

You do not necessarily need to take a taxi all the way to the airport.

Sometimes the smartest choice is a combination:

Taxi to the most convenient major station, then a direct train to the airport.

Weather changes it too

Tokyo summers can be intensely hot and humid.

A 15-minute walk that looks harmless on a map may feel much longer in July or August—especially in the middle of the day.

Rain can create the same problem. Stations become crowded, umbrellas make luggage harder to manage, and a short outdoor walk can leave you soaked before you reach your destination.

On a cool, dry morning, I might happily walk and take the train.

In heavy rain or extreme heat, I might make a completely different choice for exactly the same route.

That is not wasting money.

It is adjusting the journey to the actual conditions.

Traveling as a group changes the cost

Train fares are paid by each passenger.

A taxi fare is shared.

For one person, the price difference can be significant. For three people, the cost per person becomes much more reasonable.

Of course, luggage also matters. A standard taxi may not comfortably hold several passengers and several large suitcases at the same time.

But for three people carrying only small bags, a short taxi ride can be a practical alternative—not an extravagant one.

What I would do

I live in the Tokyo area, and I use both trains and taxis.

I would not take a taxi simply because it is more comfortable. Tokyo traffic can be slow, and the railway system is often genuinely the best way to move around.

But I also would not take the train automatically.

Before choosing, I would look at five things:

How far are both places from their stations?
Does the train journey require a transfer?
Do I have luggage?
What is the weather like?
How many people are sharing the taxi?

If the train is direct and both stations are convenient, I would probably take it.

If the route includes a difficult transfer, a long walk, heavy bags, bad weather, or several passengers, I would check the taxi option before deciding.

Tokyo’s trains are excellent.

Knowing when not to use them can make your trip better.

Going deeper

When a Taxi Is Better Than the Train in Tokyo

Real routes, estimated fares, the GO taxi app, and what I would actually choose.

The Deep Guide compares practical Tokyo journeys by train and taxi—including estimated travel time, fare, cost per person, luggage, weather, and station access.

It also explains how to set up and use the GO taxi app in English, from choosing your pickup location to paying for the ride.

→Read the Deep Guide

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Do You Really Need to Stay in Shinjuku or Shibuya?

How to choose a Tokyo hotel based on the trip you’ll actually have.

If you search for where to stay in Tokyo, two names appear again and again:

Shinjuku. Shibuya.

And to be clear, there is nothing wrong with either of them.

Both are exciting. Both have excellent transport. Both have restaurants, shopping, nightlife, and more than enough to keep you busy for several days.

For some travelers, they are exactly the right choice.

But there is one question I think travelers should ask before booking a hotel in Tokyo:

Do you actually need to sleep there?

Because the place you most want to visit is not always the place that makes the best base for your trip.

And in a city as large as Tokyo, that distinction matters.

Visiting a neighborhood and staying there are two different things

Shibuya Crossing is one of the places many first-time visitors want to see.

Shinjuku at night is another.

You should see them.

But seeing Shibuya does not mean you need to return to Shibuya every night for six days.

The same is true of Shinjuku.

Tokyo is not a city with one obvious downtown area surrounded by everything else. It has many centers, and they are spread across a very large area.

That means your hotel choice affects something travelers often underestimate:

the first and last 30 minutes of every day.

You leave your hotel every morning.

You return to it every night.

Do that five or six times, and a hotel that looked “central” on a map may not feel quite so convenient anymore.

“Five minutes from the station” does not always mean easy

This is especially true in places like Shinjuku.

A hotel may say:

5 minutes from Shinjuku Station.

That sounds perfect.

But Shinjuku is not a small station with one entrance and two platforms.

It is enormous.

There are different exits, different railway companies, underground passages, department stores, crowds, escalators, stairs, and signs pointing in every direction.

If you are carrying luggage, arriving after a long flight, or simply tired after walking around Tokyo all day, that “five-minute walk” can feel very different from what you imagined.

Japanese travelers tend to think about this instinctively.

We do not just ask:

How close is the hotel to a station?

We also think:

Which station? Which exit? How complicated is it?

Sometimes staying near a smaller, simpler station and taking a 10- or 15-minute train ride is easier than navigating one of Tokyo's biggest stations every morning and night.

That is a very different definition of “convenient.”

Think about where you want to end your day

Most travelers choose a hotel by thinking about what they want to see during the day.

I would also think about something else:

Where do you want to be at the end of the day?

If you plan to stay out late in Shinjuku, have drinks, eat yakitori at 11 p.m. and enjoy the city after dark, staying nearby makes perfect sense.

The same goes for Shibuya if nightlife, bars and late dinners are an important part of your trip.

But imagine a different traveler.

You spend the day in Asakusa.

You visit Ueno.

You have dinner around Ginza.

By 9:30 p.m., you are tired and ready to go back to your hotel.

Would you really want another long train ride across Tokyo just because someone told you that Shinjuku is the best place for first-time visitors?

Maybe.

But maybe not.

For many travelers — especially those who prefer food, museums, temples, walking and early mornings to nightlife — the better question is:

Where would I like to come home to every night?

Tokyo makes more sense if you think east and west

You do not need to memorize Tokyo's geography before your trip.

But one simple idea helps enormously.

Very roughly, many popular areas can be thought of in two groups.

On the western side:

Shinjuku
Shibuya
Harajuku
Omotesando

On the eastern and central side:

Asakusa
Ueno
Tokyo Station
Ginza

This is a simplification, of course.

But it is useful.

If most of your plans are Shibuya, Harajuku, Meiji Shrine, Shinjuku and western Tokyo, staying in Shinjuku or Shibuya can be extremely practical.

If most of your plans are Asakusa, Ueno, Tokyo Station, Ginza and the older eastern side of the city, crossing Tokyo every day just to sleep in Shinjuku may not add much to your trip.

Tokyo's trains are excellent.

But excellent transportation does not mean travel time disappears.

Twenty or thirty minutes each way does not sound like much.

Do it twice a day for six days and suddenly you have spent several hours of your holiday simply returning to your hotel.

So where should you stay?

There is no single best neighborhood in Tokyo.

There is only the best neighborhood for the way you travel.

Here is how I would think about it.

If this is your first trip and you want energy, nightlife and western Tokyo

Consider Shinjuku.

It is busy, convenient and full of things to do long after many other parts of Tokyo become quiet.

For travelers who want Tokyo to feel big, bright and alive the moment they step outside their hotel, Shinjuku works very well.

Just remember that convenience comes with crowds and a very large station.

If fashion, cafés and Shibuya–Harajuku are the center of your trip

Consider Shibuya.

If you expect to spend a lot of time around Shibuya, Harajuku, Omotesando and nearby neighborhoods, staying here can reduce unnecessary travel.

It is also a good fit for travelers who want restaurants and nightlife close by.

But if you are mainly coming back to the hotel to sleep, you may be paying for an atmosphere you are not actually using.

If you want temples, museums and the older side of Tokyo

Consider Ueno or Asakusa.

This side of Tokyo feels very different.

Asakusa gives you temples, older streets and a more traditional atmosphere.

Ueno has museums, parks, food and excellent transport.

For travelers who plan to spend more time in eastern Tokyo, both can be much more logical than automatically choosing Shinjuku.

And in the morning, walking outside into Asakusa is a very different experience from walking outside into Shinjuku.

Neither is better.

They are simply different trips.

If you will use the Shinkansen several times

Consider Tokyo Station or Shinagawa.

This is one of the clearest examples of choosing a hotel for your actual itinerary.

If Tokyo is only one part of a longer Japan trip and you plan to take the Shinkansen to Kyoto, Osaka, Nagoya or elsewhere, being close to a major Shinkansen station can make departure days much easier.

Dragging large suitcases across Tokyo at 7 a.m. is not impossible.

But if you can avoid it, why not?

If you want restaurants, shopping and a calmer adult base

Consider Ginza or central Tokyo.

Ginza is famous for luxury shopping, but that is not the only reason to stay nearby.

The area is central, clean, easy to walk around, full of restaurants, and noticeably calmer at night than Shinjuku or Shibuya.

For travelers in their 40s, 50s or 60s who enjoy good food and walking but do not need nightlife outside the hotel until 2 a.m., this kind of location can make a lot of sense.

Sometimes a quieter hotel base makes Tokyo feel easier, not less exciting.

The best hotel location is the Tokyo you will actually use

Before booking, I would ask five simple questions:

Where will I spend most of my days?

Where will I probably have dinner?

Do I stay out late?

Will I use the Shinkansen or airport trains often?

Do I really want to pass through a huge station twice every day?

That will usually tell you more than a list called “The 10 Best Areas to Stay in Tokyo.”

Shinjuku and Shibuya are excellent places to stay.

But they are not automatically the correct answer.

The best location may be quieter.

It may be less famous.

It may even be a neighborhood you had never heard of before planning your trip.

And that is perfectly fine.

Because in Tokyo, where you sleep should make the rest of your trip easier.

You should absolutely visit Shinjuku and Shibuya.

You just do not necessarily need to sleep there.

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Do You Need to Book Restaurants Before Your Trip to Japan?

Some meals are worth booking weeks ahead. Others are better left spontaneous.

Planning a trip to Japan often leads to one surprisingly difficult question:

How many restaurants should I book before I go?

Sushi?

Yakitori?

Izakaya?

That little restaurant you found on Google Maps?

And if you do want to book somewhere, can you simply reserve it online? Do you need to call in Japanese? Should you ask your hotel?

The answer is not as complicated as it may seem.

You do not need to book every restaurant before your trip to Japan.

In fact, I would not recommend it.

But there are some meals that are absolutely worth planning ahead.

The trick is knowing which ones.

Book the meals you really care about

If there is one restaurant you would genuinely be disappointed to miss, try to reserve it.

That is especially true for small restaurants with limited seating.

A sushi counter may have only eight seats.

A serious yakitori restaurant might seat only a dozen people.

Some kaiseki restaurants serve only a few groups each evening.

In places like these, “I'll just walk in” can easily become “Sorry, we're full.”

I would strongly consider booking ahead if:

you have a specific restaurant in mind
you want a small sushi or yakitori counter
you are planning a special dinner
the restaurant serves mainly a fixed course
you are traveling with a larger group
you need a particular date or time

Friday and Saturday evenings naturally leave you with less flexibility as well.

The important distinction is between these two thoughts:

“I want to eat good sushi in Tokyo.”

and

“I want to eat at this particular sushi restaurant.”

Those are very different situations.

Tokyo has an extraordinary number of restaurants.

If your goal is simply to eat good sushi somewhere, you have options.

If your goal is to eat at one specific eight-seat counter at 7:00 p.m. on Friday, make the reservation.

You can leave much more unplanned than you think

This is the part travelers sometimes forget.

You are coming to Japan to travel — not to spend the entire trip rushing from one reservation to another.

There are plenty of meals I would happily leave until the day itself.

Ramen.

Soba.

Tonkatsu.

Japanese curry.

Casual sushi.

Local Chinese restaurants.

Many izakaya.

Small neighborhood restaurants you happen to discover while walking around.

Of course, any individual restaurant can be busy. But you do not need a reservation for every meal simply because you are visiting Japan.

And leaving some space in your schedule has another advantage.

Your plans will change.

Maybe you expected to leave Asakusa at 4:00 p.m., but you are still enjoying it at 6:00.

Maybe you walked much farther than expected and suddenly want dinner close to your hotel.

Maybe you find a tiny restaurant on a side street that looks far more interesting than the place you bookmarked three months ago.

That flexibility is valuable.

If I were taking a one-week trip around Japan, I might reserve two or three dinners that really mattered to me.

I would leave many of the others open.

Book the meals you would be disappointed to miss. Leave the rest of Japan some room to surprise you.

How do you actually make a reservation?

This varies enormously from restaurant to restaurant.

Some restaurants have excellent English-language booking systems.

Some accept reservations through services such as TableCheck or Tabelog. Tabelog currently provides online reservation functions on its English site, while TableCheck lets travelers search and book restaurants across Japan in English.

Some restaurants can also be reserved through a booking option shown in Google Search or Google Maps, although this is only available when that particular business works with a supported booking provider.

Higher-end restaurants may use specialist reservation services such as OMAKASE, and their individual booking rules can be quite detailed.

And then there are still restaurants where the only realistic option is a phone call in Japanese.

So where should you start?

Keep it simple.

First, find the restaurant on Google Maps and check its official website.

Look for a reservation button or booking link.

If there is an online reservation system in English, use it.

If there is not, check whether your hotel can help.

A good hotel concierge or front desk may be able to call a restaurant for you, particularly when the restaurant only accepts reservations by phone.

But I would not build an entire trip around difficult reservations.

If obtaining a table becomes more complicated than the meal is worth to you, remember something important:

Japan has another restaurant around the corner.

Very often, it is a very good one.

A reservation means something

There is one more thing worth understanding.

If you reserve a small restaurant in Japan, please take that reservation seriously.

At a large restaurant, one empty table may not seem like much.

At an eight-seat sushi counter, two people failing to appear can mean a quarter of the evening's seats are empty.

Some restaurants also prepare ingredients specifically for the number of guests expected that day.

That is why certain restaurants require credit-card details, deposits or cancellation fees.

So if you make a reservation:

Arrive on time.

If you are running late, contact the restaurant if possible.

And if your plans change, cancel as early as you can.

A reservation is not simply a way to secure a table.

For a small restaurant, it is also a promise that you will show up.

Don't turn every meal into an appointment

Japan is an easy country in which to become obsessed with restaurant research.

You can spend weeks saving sushi counters, ramen shops, izakaya, coffee shops and yakitori restaurants on Google Maps.

I understand the temptation.

Food may end up being one of the best parts of your trip.

But I would resist planning every meal.

Choose a few places that genuinely excite you.

Reserve those.

Then leave some blank spaces.

Walk around.

Look through the window.

Read the menu outside.

Follow the smell of grilled chicken down a side street.

Ask yourself what you actually feel like eating that evening.

Some restaurants deserve a reservation months in advance.

Others are better discovered at 7:15 p.m. when you are hungry and happen to be standing nearby.

Both can become great meals.

And sometimes the meal you remember most from Japan is the one you never planned at all.

Going deeper

How to Book Restaurants in Japan — Without Speaking Japanese

A practical guide to online reservations, Google Maps, TableCheck, Tabelog, hotel assistance, cancellation rules and what to do when a restaurant only accepts phone bookings.

→Read the Deep Guide: 3 Things I Would Have Ready When English Stops Working in Japan

Need help deciding what is actually worth booking?

Maybe your question is not how to make a reservation.

Maybe it is:

I'm visiting Tokyo for six nights. I love sushi, yakitori and small local restaurants. Which meals would you book before the trip — and which would you leave open?

That is exactly the kind of question where a local perspective can be useful.

→ Ask a Local

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Hakone: Day Trip or Overnight Stay?

You can visit Hakone in a day. That doesn't mean you should.

Hakone looks surprisingly close to Tokyo on a map.

From Shinjuku, you can reach Hakone-Yumoto in around 90 minutes. From there, trains, buses, cable cars, ropeways and boats connect most of the places visitors want to see.

So yes — Hakone is absolutely possible as a day trip from Tokyo.

But if you ask me what I would actually choose?

I would stay one night.

Not because Hakone is impossible without a car.
Not because you need two full days to see everything.

Quite the opposite.

I think Hakone is better when you stop trying to see everything.

You do not need a car in Hakone

This is worth saying clearly first.

Hakone has one of the most developed public transport networks of any mountain resort area in Japan.

The Hakone Tozan Railway runs from Hakone-Yumoto through places such as Miyanoshita and Kowakudani all the way to Gora.

From Gora, you can continue by cable car and ropeway toward Owakudani and Lake Ashi.

There are also buses connecting the major areas.

So if you are wondering:

“Can I travel around Hakone without renting a car?”

The answer is yes.

But there is an important difference between:

being connected by public transport

and

moving around quickly.

Hakone is a mountain area. Attractions are spread out, transport requires transfers, and some parts of the journey depend on buses.

That matters more than it might seem when planning a day trip.

Should you rent a car?

This is where the answer becomes a little less simple.

A rental car can certainly make Hakone more convenient.

You are not tied to train or bus timetables. You can move directly between places, carry your luggage easily, and reach some hotels or quieter areas without worrying about multiple transfers.

If you are traveling as a family, carrying a lot of luggage, or staying somewhere away from the main transport routes, a car can make sense.

But I would not say:

“Hakone is better by car.”

Especially during busy weekends, public holidays and peak travel seasons, Hakone's roads can become heavily congested.

Parking around popular sightseeing areas can also take time.

So the choice is not really:

public transport = slow
car = fast

Sometimes it is closer to:

public transport = waiting and transfers
car = traffic and parking

If you are comfortable driving in Japan and want flexibility, renting a car is a perfectly reasonable option.

But if your main reason for renting one is simply to save time, I would not assume that it will.

A car gives you freedom.
It does not guarantee speed.

That is especially true in high season.

The problem is not distance. It is time.

A typical Hakone itinerary often looks reasonable when written on a screen.

Tokyo
→ Hakone-Yumoto
→ Gora
→ Owakudani
→ Lake Ashi
→ Hakone Shrine
→ back to Tokyo

Nothing there looks particularly extreme.

But every arrow takes time.

You wait for a train.

You change to another train.

You wait for a cable car.

You queue for a ropeway.

You take a bus.

Then perhaps another bus.

And eventually you still have to make your way all the way back to Tokyo.

On a quiet weekday, this can work quite smoothly.

On weekends, holidays and popular travel periods, the experience can be very different.

More people means fuller trains and buses, longer queues and more waiting between each part of the journey.

And if you are driving, those same busy periods can mean traffic jams and crowded parking areas instead.

Hakone is easy to reach.
Hakone is not always fast to move around.

That distinction matters.

This is why I am cautious about a Hakone day trip

You will find plenty of one-day Hakone itineraries online.

And they are not wrong.

If you leave Tokyo early, follow the classic sightseeing route and keep moving, you can see quite a lot in one day.

But there is a difference between:

seeing Hakone

and

enjoying Hakone.

Imagine arriving at Lake Ashi after spending most of the morning changing trains and buses.

You take a few photos.

Then you check the time.

You still want to see Owakudani.

You need to get back to Hakone-Yumoto.

And you have a train back to Tokyo later that evening.

Suddenly one of Japan's most famous hot-spring areas has become another transportation exercise.

For me, that misses the point.

Hakone is one of those places where doing less works better

This is especially true if it is your first visit.

You do not need to see every major attraction.

In fact, I would recommend the opposite.

Choose two or three things you genuinely want to experience.

Maybe that is:

Owakudani and its volcanic landscape
Lake Ashi and the surrounding mountains
an open-air museum
a walk around Gora
a good ryokan and a long bath

That is enough.

Hakone is not Tokyo.

You do not need to maximize every hour.

The mountains, the trees, the mist, the changing weather and the quiet between destinations are part of the experience.

If you are constantly checking your next bus connection — or sitting in traffic — you lose some of that.

Why one night changes the trip

Staying overnight removes one major pressure:

you do not have to return to Tokyo the same day.

That sounds obvious, but it changes everything.

You can arrive around lunchtime instead of trying to reach Hakone as early as possible.

See one or two places.

Check into your ryokan.

Take a bath.

Have dinner.

Go back to the onsen later in the evening.

Then wake up the next morning and continue slowly.

That is a very different trip from spending the whole day moving through Hakone and returning to Tokyo exhausted.

And if you have never stayed at a Japanese ryokan before, Hakone is one of the easiest places to build that experience into a Tokyo itinerary.

The stay itself becomes part of the reason to go.

What I would do

If I were visiting Hakone for the first time, I would keep it very simple.

Day 1

Travel from Tokyo to Hakone in the morning.

Visit one major sightseeing area before checking into the ryokan.

For example, Gora and the Hakone Open-Air Museum, or Owakudani.

Then stop.

Check in.

Use the onsen.

Have dinner.

Do nothing for a while.

Day 2

Have breakfast and another bath if you want one.

Then visit one or two more places, perhaps Lake Ashi or another area you skipped the day before.

Return to Tokyo in the afternoon.

You will probably see fewer places than someone following an aggressive one-day itinerary.

I think you will remember Hakone better.

When a day trip does make sense

I would not say that everyone needs to stay overnight.

A day trip can be a good choice if:

your Japan itinerary is short
you mainly want to see one or two specific places
you are not particularly interested in staying at a ryokan
accommodation prices are high on your dates
the weather forecast is uncertain
you are comfortable starting early and keeping the day fairly structured

In that case, I would still resist the temptation to do everything.

Pick a smaller area.

Leave some margin for delays.

And especially during busy periods, do not build an itinerary where every connection has to work perfectly.

When I would definitely stay overnight

I would lean strongly toward one night if:

this is your first trip to Hakone
you want the onsen experience
you want to stay at a ryokan
you are visiting during a busy weekend or holiday period
you prefer slower travel
Hakone is one of the places you are genuinely excited about

There is another reason too.

Weather in the mountains can change quickly.

Mount Fuji may be visible one moment and completely hidden the next.

If you only have a few hours in Hakone, bad timing can define the entire visit.

With an overnight stay, you simply have more chances.

Day trip or overnight?

So, can Hakone be done as a day trip?

Yes. Easily enough to make it a popular option.

Would I recommend trying to see all of Hakone in one day?

No.

Especially during busy periods, the combination of mountain transport, transfers, buses, queues and road traffic can make an ambitious itinerary much more tiring than it appears on Google Maps.

And renting a car does not magically remove the problem.

If you only want a taste of Hakone, a day trip is perfectly reasonable.

But if you actually want to experience the place — the mountains, the onsen, the ryokan, the quieter evening and morning hours — I would stay one night.

And I would still keep the itinerary small.

One night.
Two or three things you really want to see.
Plenty of time to do nothing.

That, to me, is a much better way to see Hakone.

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Your First Onsen in Japan: What Actually Happens

Naked? Towels? Tattoos? Here’s exactly what happens from the moment you walk in.

For Japanese people, going to an onsen is so ordinary that we sometimes forget how strange the whole thing can look to someone doing it for the first time.

You walk into a room with strangers.

You take off all your clothes.

You carry a very small towel that seems far too small to be useful.

Then you wash yourself before getting into the bath — which may make you wonder what the bath is actually for.

And somewhere in the middle of all this, you may also be wearing a yukata for the first time in your life.

If nobody explains the sequence, an onsen can feel surprisingly intimidating.

So forget the long list of etiquette rules for a moment.

Here is what actually happens.

You may start in your room wearing a yukata

If you are staying at a ryokan or a Japanese hotel with an onsen, you will often find a yukata in your room.

You can usually wear it from your room to the bath.

And yes, walking through the hotel in a yukata is completely normal. You do not need to change back into your regular clothes just to visit the onsen.

Most people wear underwear underneath it while walking around the ryokan.

One small detail: when wearing a yukata, the left side goes over the right side.

You may also find a small towel and a larger bath towel in your room. Take them with you unless the hotel tells you towels are available in the bathing area.

First, find the correct entrance

Most onsen have separate bathing areas for men and women.

Look for:

男 — Men

女 — Women

There may also be English signs.

Do not rely entirely on curtain colors. Red often means women and blue often means men, but not always — and some ryokan switch the male and female baths at different times of day.

Check the sign.

Once you enter, you are in the changing room.

This is where the part many first-time visitors worry about begins.

Yes, you take off everything

Everything means everything.

No swimsuit.

No underwear.

No yukata.

Japanese onsen are normally enjoyed completely naked.

Your clothes and large towel stay in the changing room, usually in a basket or locker.

At first, this may feel extremely unusual.

But here is something worth knowing: nobody is particularly interested in you.

For Japanese people, being naked in an onsen is not sexual and usually not embarrassing. People change, walk into the bath, wash themselves and relax.

That is all.

You may feel very aware of yourself for the first minute.

Then, surprisingly quickly, you probably will not.

Take the small towel with you

This is where the mysterious little Japanese towel finally makes sense.

The large bath towel stays in the changing room.

The small towel comes into the bathing area with you.

You can use it while washing, and if you feel uncomfortable walking around naked, you can discreetly hold it in front of yourself.

There is just one important rule:

Do not put the towel into the bathwater.

When you enter the bath, leave it at the edge of the bath if permitted, or do what many Japanese people do and put the folded towel on your head.

Yes, people really do that.

Before the bath, you wash

This is probably the biggest difference between an onsen and what many visitors imagine.

You do not get into the bath to wash yourself.

You wash yourself first.

Inside the bathing area you will normally see a row of low stools, mirrors, handheld showers and small buckets.

Sit down.

There is usually shampoo, conditioner and body soap provided, especially at ryokan and hotels.

Wash your body thoroughly and rinse away all the soap before entering the bath.

Try not to stand and spray water everywhere. The washing stations are designed to be used while sitting.

What about your hair?

You can wash your hair too.

If you do, rinse it thoroughly.

If you do not want to wash it, that is also fine — but long hair should be tied up so that it does not touch the bathwater.

The important thing is simple:

Your body is clean before you enter, and your hair stays out of the water.

That is why dozens of people can share the same bath without treating it like a giant bathtub at home.

Now you get into the onsen

Finally.

Before entering, some people pour a little hot water over themselves first. You may see buckets near the bath for this.

Then step in slowly.

And I mean slowly.

Japanese onsen can be much hotter than first-time visitors expect.

There is no prize for immediately sinking up to your neck and enduring it.

Start with your legs.

Sit lower gradually.

If it feels too hot, get out.

You can sit beside the bath for a while and try again later.

An onsen is supposed to be relaxing, not a test of endurance.

What do you actually do once you are in?

Almost nothing.

That is the point.

You sit.

You look outside if there is a view.

You feel the hot water.

You may hear almost nothing except water moving.

People sometimes talk quietly, but an onsen is generally not a swimming pool, bar or social club.

Do not swim.

Do not splash.

Do not use your phone.

And definitely do not take photographs in a shared bathing area.

For me, this quietness is one of the best parts of an onsen.

Japan can be busy. Trains, stations, schedules, restaurants, sightseeing.

Then you enter hot water and, for ten minutes, there is absolutely nothing you need to do.

That is the experience.

When you get out

When you are finished, step out carefully.

You do not normally need to take a full shower again unless you want to or the facility gives specific instructions.

Before walking back into the changing room, it is polite to wipe some of the water from your body with your small towel rather than dripping all over the floor.

Then use your large towel to dry yourself properly.

Put your clothes — or your yukata — back on.

Many ryokan have drinking water nearby.

Have some.

Hot baths can dehydrate you more than you realize.

And if you see Japanese people drinking milk or coffee milk afterward from a little glass bottle, congratulations: you have discovered another part of Japanese bathing culture.

And what about tattoos?

This is the one thing I would check before arriving.

Japan does not have one universal rule for tattoos at onsen.

Some facilities allow them.

Some allow small tattoos if they are completely covered with a special patch.

Some do not allow tattoos in the public bath at all.

Rules are gradually changing, especially in places accustomed to international travelers, but you should never assume.

Check the ryokan or onsen website, or ask before booking.

If tattoos are not allowed in the shared bath, look for a private bath, usually called a kashikiri-buro.

Some ryokan also offer guest rooms with their own private onsen bath.

That can be a particularly good option if you have a large tattoo — or if the idea of getting naked with strangers simply does not appeal to you.

You can still experience an onsen.

Just choose the right one.

The rules are actually simpler than they look

For a first-time visitor, Japanese bathing culture can seem full of mysterious rules.

But most of it comes down to four things:

Get naked.

Wash before entering.

Keep your towel and hair out of the water.

Be considerate of the people around you.

That is almost everything.

You do not need to imitate every movement of the Japanese person sitting next to you.

You do not need to know obscure traditions.

And nobody expects an international visitor to behave like someone who has been going to onsen since childhood.

Just understand the basic idea.

The water is shared.

Keep it clean.

Keep the space quiet.

Then relax.

Your first minute will probably be the hardest

I think this is the part most explanations of Japanese onsen miss.

The biggest obstacle is probably not etiquette.

It is opening the changing-room door and realizing:

Oh. I really do have to take everything off.

That moment can feel strange.

But five minutes later, you may be sitting outside in hot spring water, looking at mountains, snow, trees or the night sky and wondering why you were so worried.

And when that happens, you will understand why Japanese people keep coming back.

Not because an onsen is complicated.

Because once you are in the water, almost everything else disappears.

Going deeper

Knowing what happens inside an onsen is one thing.

Choosing the right ryokan is another.

A beautiful room or a famous name does not always mean a better onsen stay. I would look at a few specific things before booking — especially the bath, the room, and what kind of experience the ryokan is actually built around.

Deep Guide: Your First Ryokan in Japan — 3 Things I Would Check Before Booking

What I would look at before choosing a ryokan for my first onsen stay.

→ Read the Deep Guide‍ ‍

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Where Should You Stay in Tokyo? It Depends on What You Want to Do.

There is no single “best area” in Tokyo — the right choice depends on how you plan to spend your trip.

When people plan their first trip to Tokyo, they often ask the same question:

Where is the best area to stay?

Shinjuku?

Shibuya?

Ginza?

Asakusa?

Near Tokyo Station?

The problem is that there is no single right answer.

Tokyo is not a city with one compact center where most visitors can simply stay nearby and walk everywhere.

It is enormous.

And the part of Tokyo that feels convenient for one traveler can feel surprisingly inconvenient for another.

So if I were choosing a hotel in Tokyo, I would not start by asking:

“Which neighborhood is the most popular?”

I would ask:

“What do I actually want to do during this trip?”

Because in Tokyo, where you stay can quietly change the rhythm of your entire visit.

Tokyo is bigger than it looks on a map

This is probably the first thing I would keep in mind.

On a map, many of Tokyo's major neighborhoods look relatively close together.

And technically, they are.

Tokyo's trains are excellent, and moving between major areas is usually straightforward.

But that does not mean every location feels equally convenient.

A trip across Tokyo may involve:

walking from your hotel to the station,

finding the correct entrance,

walking through a large station,

taking a train,

changing trains,

walking through another large station,

and then walking again to your actual destination.

Do that once and it is no problem.

Do it several times every day for a week, and you start to notice it.

This is especially true if you are traveling in summer, in heavy rain, with children, or with large luggage.

Tokyo's transportation system makes a huge city manageable.

It does not make the city small.

“Five minutes from the station” does not always mean the same thing

Hotel descriptions in Tokyo often tell you that a property is “five minutes from the station.”

That sounds simple.

But which station?

And which exit?

A small neighborhood station is very different from somewhere like Shinjuku or Tokyo Station.

At a huge station, simply getting from the platform to the correct exit can take time.

You may also discover that the railway line you use most often is on the opposite side of the station from your hotel.

So when I look at a hotel, I do not only look at the distance to the nearest station.

I also think about:

Which train lines will I actually use?

Which side of the station is the hotel on?

Will I be doing this walk every morning and every evening?

That matters much more than it might seem before you arrive.

A hotel that is technically a little farther from a famous station can sometimes be easier than one that is “right next to” a massive transport hub.

Think about where your days will end, not only where they begin

Most people plan their sightseeing during the daytime.

Meiji Shrine.

Asakusa.

Tsukiji.

Museums.

Shopping.

But I would also think about what happens at 9 or 10 p.m.

Where are you likely to be after dinner?

Do you want bars and restaurants around your hotel?

Would you rather return to a quieter neighborhood?

Are you the type of traveler who wants to go back to the hotel for an hour before dinner?

These small habits can change which location works best.

If you enjoy returning to your room in the afternoon, changing clothes, resting and then going out again, staying reasonably close to the places you spend most of your time becomes more valuable.

If you normally leave the hotel at 8 a.m. and do not return until late at night, it may matter less.

The “best” place to stay depends partly on how you travel, not just what you want to see.

Your day trips matter too

Tokyo may be your base, but you may not spend every day in Tokyo.

Maybe you are going to Hakone.

Kamakura.

Nikko.

Yokohama.

Or somewhere farther away.

If I knew I was taking several day trips, I would consider those journeys when choosing where to stay.

An area that looks perfect for Tokyo sightseeing may add unnecessary travel at the beginning and end of every day trip.

This does not mean you need to choose your hotel entirely around one train journey.

But if you already know that two or three days of your itinerary involve leaving Tokyo in the same direction, it is worth thinking about.

This is one reason I would choose the hotel after sketching out the trip, rather than booking the hotel first and building everything else around it.

Airport access is important — but probably not every day

Travelers often put a lot of weight on how easy it is to reach a hotel from Narita or Haneda Airport.

That is understandable.

After a long flight, nobody wants a complicated transfer with luggage.

But remember:

you normally travel between the airport and your hotel only twice.

You travel between your hotel and the rest of Tokyo every day.

So I would absolutely consider airport access.

I just would not make it the only reason to choose an area.

A hotel that saves you 20 minutes on arrival but adds 20 minutes to your sightseeing every day may not really be the more convenient option.

Luggage changes everything

Tokyo is easy to move around when you are carrying a phone and a small bag.

It feels different when you have a large suitcase.

Stairs appear.

Station corridors feel longer.

Crowded trains become less comfortable.

Even a 10-minute walk starts to feel different.

If I were arriving in Tokyo with large luggage, I would pay more attention to the final part of the journey from the station to the hotel than I normally would.

Is the route simple?

Do I have to cross a huge station?

Are there elevators?

Would taking a short taxi from the station make more sense?

This is also why I would not automatically assume that staying next to the biggest station is always the easiest choice.

Sometimes smaller and simpler is better.

Do you really need to stay in the middle of everything?

This is another question worth asking.

Travelers often feel that they should stay in the busiest, most famous neighborhood because they are visiting Tokyo for only a few days.

But being “in the middle of everything” has trade-offs.

Busy neighborhoods are exciting.

They can also be noisy, crowded and tiring.

A slightly quieter area may give you:

more space,

easier station access,

better sleep,

and sometimes better value.

And because Tokyo's railway network is so extensive, being a few stations away from a major sightseeing area is not automatically inconvenient.

There is a difference between being central and being well connected.

For me, the second one often matters more.

I would not choose an area just because everyone recommends it

Search for “best areas to stay in Tokyo” and you will see the same neighborhood names again and again.

There is nothing wrong with those recommendations.

They are popular for good reasons.

But popularity does not tell you whether a neighborhood fits your trip.

Imagine three travelers.

One wants excellent restaurants, shopping and easy access to Tokyo Station.

Another wants nightlife and plans to spend several days on the western side of Tokyo.

Another wants a quieter, more traditional atmosphere and easy access from Narita.

I would not put all three of them in the same neighborhood.

And that is the point.

There is no universal answer.

So what would I decide before booking?

Before choosing a hotel, I would answer a few simple questions.

Which parts of Tokyo do I expect to visit most?

Am I taking any major day trips?

Do I want restaurants and nightlife near my hotel, or somewhere quieter at night?

Will I return to the hotel during the day?

How much luggage will I have?

Which airport am I using?

You do not need to optimize every train journey.

That would make trip planning miserable.

You just want to avoid choosing a hotel based on a neighborhood name and discovering later that you spend much of your holiday crossing the city.

The good news: there are many right answers

Tokyo is one of the easiest huge cities in the world to move around.

That means you do not have to find the perfect location.

There probably is no perfect location.

What you want is a location that fits your particular trip well enough.

For one traveler, that might mean being close to Tokyo Station.

For another, it might mean Shinjuku.

For someone else, Asakusa may be exactly what they imagined Japan would feel like.

The mistake is not choosing one neighborhood instead of another.

The mistake is assuming that the same neighborhood is best for everyone.

So before you book your Tokyo hotel, I would spend ten minutes looking at your itinerary first.

Not hotel ratings.

Not Instagram.

Not a list of the “Top 10 neighborhoods in Tokyo.”

Your actual trip.

Because in a city this large, the best place to stay is usually the place that makes the rest of your trip easier.

Going deeper

If I were choosing for a first or second trip to Tokyo, there are three areas I would look at very differently depending on the kind of trip I was planning.

Tokyo / Ginza

Shinjuku

Asakusa / Ueno

Each has real advantages.

Each also has situations where I would choose somewhere else.

The area I would choose depends on your itinerary, your luggage and the kind of Tokyo you want to experience.

→ Read the Deep Guide

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How Much Should You Really Pay for Sushi in Tokyo?

You can spend ¥5,000 on sushi in Tokyo. You can also spend ¥50,000. So what are you actually paying for?

If you are coming to Japan, there is a good chance that sushi is somewhere on your list.

And when you start searching for sushi restaurants in Tokyo, something strange happens.

One restaurant costs around ¥5,000 per person.

Another costs ¥15,000.

Another ¥25,000.

And some ask for ¥40,000 or ¥50,000 — sometimes more.

So which one is the “real” sushi experience?

The answer is:

All of them can be.

But before deciding how much to spend, there are a few things about sushi that I think are worth knowing.

Sushi was not originally luxury food

Today, a quiet sushi counter in Ginza can feel almost ceremonial.

But nigiri sushi has much humbler roots.

The style that developed in Edo — present-day Tokyo — became popular as convenient food for ordinary people. Sushi was sold at food stalls and eaten relatively quickly.

And Edomae sushi was never simply about putting a slice of raw fish on rice.

Before modern refrigeration, sushi chefs developed techniques such as marinating fish in soy sauce, curing it with salt or vinegar, simmering ingredients, steaming them, or preserving them in different ways.

Those techniques eventually became part of the craft.

That is still important today.

At a good sushi counter, you are not only paying for expensive fish.

You are also paying for what the chef does to it.

So how much should you pay?

Here is the rough way I think about sushi prices in Tokyo.

These are not strict rules. Restaurants, lunch and dinner prices, location and seasonal ingredients can change things considerably.

But they are useful guidelines.

Around ¥5,000 — perfectly good sushi exists

You absolutely do not need to spend ¥20,000 to enjoy sushi in Japan.

With around ¥4,000, you can have a very satisfying meal at a good conveyor-belt sushi restaurant or another casual sushi restaurant.

And Japanese people eat this kind of sushi too.

It is not “fake sushi for tourists.”

You can have tuna, salmon, squid, shrimp, shellfish, eel and many other kinds of seafood without making sushi the most expensive meal of your trip.

When it comes to tuna, however, you should not expect rare wild bluefin at this price.

The tuna may be frozen, farmed, or a more affordable species such as yellowfin or bigeye.

That does not mean it is bad.

Some of it can be very good.

And one important thing to understand is that frozen does not automatically mean low quality. High-quality tuna can also be frozen at very low temperatures to preserve it in excellent condition.

For a first experience — especially if you simply love eating sushi — around ¥4,000 can be more than enough.

Around ¥10,000–¥15,000 — where things get interesting

This is a price range I would seriously consider if you want to experience sushi at a counter.

You begin to notice more attention to the rice, temperature, knife work, seasoning and the order in which the sushi is served.

Instead of choosing every piece yourself, you may have an omakase course — essentially leaving the meal to the chef.

When it comes to tuna, depending on the restaurant, you may also start to encounter wild fish and more carefully selected cuts.

But don't assume that every tuna served at this level will be wild kuro-maguro.

You may find southern bluefin, bigeye or other tuna instead.

And that is not necessarily a disappointment.

A good sushi chef is not simply trying to buy the most expensive species.

The chef is trying to serve something good that day.

For many travelers, I think this price range can offer an excellent balance between experience and price.

Around ¥20,000–¥25,000 — entering serious sushi territory

Now things change.

Ingredients may be more carefully sourced.

The course may include more expensive seafood.

The chef may have years — sometimes decades — of experience.

The room may have only a handful of counter seats.

And this is also the price range where kuro-maguro — bluefin tuna, often called hon-maguro in Japan — becomes much more likely to appear.

You might be served akami, the lean red part of the tuna.

Then perhaps chutoro, which has more fat.

Sometimes otoro, the richest and fattiest part.

But there is something first-time visitors should know.

At many high-end sushi restaurants, you are eating an omakase course.

That means you are not ordering ten pieces of your favorite tuna.

The chef decides the progression of the meal.

You may receive only two or three pieces of tuna during the entire course.

And they may be extraordinary.

Want another piece of chutoro or otoro?

You can sometimes ask.

But it may be charged separately.

And with premium tuna, those extra pieces can make the bill rise surprisingly quickly.

This is an important difference between spending ¥4,000 at a casual sushi restaurant and ¥25,000 at an omakase counter.

At ¥4,000, you may eat more tuna.

At ¥25,000, you may eat less — but much more carefully selected tuna.

That distinction matters.

¥40,000–¥50,000 and beyond — the last few percent

Yes, this world exists too.

At this level, you may be paying for exceptional ingredients, a famous chef, a particular supplier, a highly regarded origin, a rare cut, or an unusually good fish available that day.

With tuna, the question is no longer simply:

“Is this bluefin?”

It may become:

Which bluefin? From where? Wild or farmed? Which part of the fish? Who selected it?

For someone deeply interested in sushi, these differences can be fascinating.

But here is the important part.

A ¥50,000 sushi dinner is not twice as delicious as a ¥25,000 sushi dinner.

Food does not work like that.

Once you reach a very high level, you are often paying increasingly large amounts for increasingly small differences.

Rarity.

Provenance.

Craftsmanship.

Reputation.

Access.

A particular fish on a particular day.

Those things may matter enormously to a sushi enthusiast.

For your first sushi experience in Tokyo?

Maybe not.

Tuna is not just tuna

This is something worth understanding before eating sushi in Japan.

Many visitors simply see the word tuna.

But in Japan, tuna can mean very different things.

You may encounter:

Kihada — Yellowfin tuna
A widely eaten tuna with a relatively light flavor.

Mebachi — Bigeye tuna
Commonly used for sashimi and sushi, with a richer taste than yellowfin.

Minami-maguro — Southern bluefin tuna
A premium tuna prized for its rich flavor and fat.

Kuro-maguro — Bluefin tuna
Often called hon-maguro in Japan and generally regarded as the top of the tuna world.

And even saying “bluefin” does not tell you everything.

Was it wild or farmed?

Fresh or frozen?

Where was it caught?

What season was it caught in?

Which part of the fish are you eating?

The answers can affect both flavor and price.

Again, don't misunderstand this as a simple equation:

wild = good, farmed = bad

fresh = good, frozen = bad.

It is much more complicated than that.

Excellent farmed bluefin exists.

Excellent frozen tuna exists.

The point is simply that when you pay more for sushi, you may be paying for decisions and distinctions that are almost invisible if the menu just says:

Tuna.

Do you know that fish have seasons?

This is something I think many visitors overlook.

We talk about seasonal vegetables.

We talk about cherry blossoms in spring.

We talk about autumn leaves.

But fish have seasons too.

And this is one of the most interesting parts of eating sushi in Japan.

The best fish in January is not necessarily the best fish in July.

Fat content changes.

Texture changes.

Flavor changes.

Even the same species can taste noticeably different depending on the season and where it was caught.

Japan has a word for the idea of enjoying an ingredient when it is at its seasonal best:

shun.

So instead of asking only:

“Do they have tuna?”

Try asking:

“What is good today?”

A simple Japanese phrase you can use is:

Osusume wa?

What do you recommend?

That one question can make a sushi meal much more interesting.

Sushi is much more than tuna and salmon

Salmon and tuna are popular for a reason.

I like them too.

But if you come all the way to Japan and eat only tuna and salmon, you are seeing a very small part of sushi.

Depending on the season, you might encounter:

Kohada — gizzard shad
Aji — horse mackerel
Iwashi — sardine
Saba — mackerel
Hirame — flounder
Tai — sea bream
Anago — saltwater eel
Ika — squid
Hotate — scallop
Uni — sea urchin

Some are rich.

Some are delicate.

Some are oily.

Some are sweet.

Some have been cured, marinated, cooked or lightly seared.

And some may look much less impressive than a beautiful piece of fatty tuna — but taste extraordinary.

You may discover that your favorite sushi in Japan is a fish whose English name you had never heard before.

That is part of the fun.

So what would I choose?

If someone told me:

“I have one night in Tokyo for sushi. How much should I spend?”

I would not automatically send them to the most expensive restaurant they could afford.

For a casual meal, around ¥4,000–¥5,000 can be perfectly satisfying.

If they wanted a proper counter experience, I would probably start looking around the ¥10,000–¥15,000 range.

And if sushi was one of the main reasons for their trip, then perhaps ¥20,000–¥25,000 would make sense.

¥50,000?

Only if they already know why they want to spend ¥50,000.

That difference matters.

Because the best sushi experience in Tokyo is not necessarily the most expensive one.

It is the one where you understand what you are eating, why it tastes that way, and what you are paying for.

And perhaps the best thing you can do is forget the fish you already know for one evening.

Sit at the counter.

Watch the chef.

And ask:

“What's good today?”

Going deeper

Want to know where I would actually spend my own money?

How I Would Choose a Sushi Restaurant in Tokyo — Three Different Budgets

Around ¥5,000, from ¥15,000 and from ¥25,000 — three different kinds of sushi experience.

→Read the Deep Guide‍

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Eating in Japan Without Speaking Japanese

What actually works — from ticket machines to pointing at the menu.

Japan can feel intimidating if you do not speak Japanese.

You walk into a restaurant and the menu is only in Japanese.
There is a ticket machine covered in buttons.
The staff may speak little or no English.

And suddenly, ordering lunch feels much harder than it should.

But here is the good news:

You do not need to speak Japanese to eat well in Japan.

You may not be able to have a long conversation with the staff. But ordering food is a very different problem.

Menus, photos, prices, gestures, smartphones — all of these give you ways to communicate without saying very much at all.

Here is what actually works.

Pictures Are Your Best Friend

Many restaurants in major tourist areas now have English menus.

But not all of them do.

And once you move away from places heavily visited by international travelers, Japanese-only menus are still common.

That does not necessarily mean you cannot order.

If the menu has photos, things become much easier.

Point to what you want and say:

“Kore, onegaishimasu.”
This one, please.

That is enough in many situations.

You do not need to memorize a long list of Japanese phrases before your trip.

In fact, trying to explain something in complicated Japanese that you only half remember can sometimes make things more confusing.

A photo and a finger can be surprisingly effective.

And in a restaurant, pointing at an item on the menu is perfectly normal.

You are not being rude.

From the staff’s point of view, clearly pointing to the dish you want can actually be easier than trying to understand an uncertain English description.

Clarity helps both sides.

Ticket Machines Look Harder Than They Are

Then there are ticket machines.

You will often find them at ramen shops, soba restaurants and casual places serving quick meals.

For a first-time visitor, some of the older machines can look terrifying.

Dozens of buttons.
Japanese characters everywhere.
Sometimes no obvious explanation of what to do next.

But the basic system is simple.

Choose your food. Pay. Take the ticket. Give it to the staff.

That is usually it.

Newer machines often have English-language options and photos, but older machines may not.

If you are faced with one of those, use whatever information is available:

Look for photos.
Match prices with pictures on signs outside the restaurant.
Use Google Translate on your phone.
Watch what the person in front of you does.

And yes, sometimes someone will notice that you are completely lost and help you before you even ask.

That happens more often than you might expect.

Pointing Is Completely Fine

Some travelers worry that pointing at a menu might seem impolite.

In most casual restaurants in Japan, it is absolutely fine.

In fact, it can be the safest way to order.

Point to the item and say:

“This one.”

Or simply:

“Kore.”

The staff will usually understand immediately.

Numbers also help.

If a menu has item numbers, use them.

If you want two of something, hold up two fingers.

You do not need perfect language.

You just need a clear way to show what you mean.

Google Translate Works Best When You Keep It Simple

Translation apps are extremely useful in Japan.

But there is one trick:

Do not make the sentence too complicated.

Instead of typing a long explanation, ask one short question at a time.

For example:

“Does this contain peanuts?”

“Is this spicy?”

“No raw fish, please.”

“Can I order this without meat?”

Short questions are easier for translation apps and easier for staff to understand.

The camera function can also help with Japanese menus, although automatic translations are not always perfect.

Another simple option is to show a photo.

If you have seen a dish online or in a restaurant review, show the picture and ask:

“Do you have this?”

That may work faster than trying to pronounce the Japanese name.

One important exception is allergies.

If you have a serious food allergy, do not rely only on casual gestures or an imperfect machine translation. Make your allergy clear in writing, preferably in Japanese, and confirm that the restaurant understands it before ordering.

Ordering Is Usually Easier Than Making a Reservation

There is another important distinction.

Walking into a restaurant and ordering food is much easier than making a reservation by phone.

Inside the restaurant, you have context.

You can point at the menu.
You can show a photo.
You can use gestures.
The staff can show you what they mean.

On the phone, almost all of that disappears.

That is why even travelers who manage restaurants perfectly well in person may struggle with reservations.

If possible, use an online booking page, a hotel concierge or another reservation service instead of calling the restaurant directly.

A restaurant may be perfectly comfortable serving foreign guests even if nobody there feels comfortable taking a reservation in English over the phone.

Those are two very different things.

Sometimes the Hardest Part Is Not the Language

There are moments when you may not know what the staff is asking.

They might be asking:

How many people?

Counter or table?

Hot or cold?

Large or regular?

Cash or card?

Eat here or take away?

You may hear a stream of Japanese and understand absolutely none of it.

That is normal.

Do not panic.

Look at what the staff is pointing to.

Use your fingers for numbers.

Show your phone.

Say:

“Sorry, I don’t understand.”

Often, once both sides realize words are not working, the conversation becomes much easier because everyone starts using gestures.

What Japanese Staff May Actually Be Thinking

This is something travelers may not realize.

If a member of staff suddenly looks nervous when you speak English, it does not necessarily mean they do not want foreign customers.

Often, the thought going through their head is closer to:

“I hope I can understand what they want.”

Many Japanese people studied English at school but rarely use it in everyday conversation.

So when someone suddenly starts speaking English, even a simple sentence can make them freeze.

You may see hesitation.

You may see a slightly worried expression.

You may even see someone disappear into the back of the restaurant to find the one person who is “good at English.”

That can look uncomfortable from the customer’s side.

But the problem is often not the foreign customer.

It is fear of getting the communication wrong.

What did they order?
Did they understand the price?
Did I explain this properly?

Japanese staff are often more worried about making a mistake than about the fact that you do not speak Japanese.

And once you point clearly at the menu, show your phone, or smile and make it obvious that you are happy to work things out together, the atmosphere can change immediately.

That small signal helps.

A Little Japanese Goes a Long Way

You do not need much.

But a few words make interactions warmer.

Sumimasen — Excuse me / Sorry
Onegaishimasu — Please
Arigato gozaimasu — Thank you
Oishii — Delicious

Nobody expects a visitor to speak perfect Japanese.

Even using one or two words shows that you are trying.

And that is usually appreciated.

You Do Not Need Japanese. You Need a Way to Be Understood.

Eating in Japan without speaking Japanese is not always effortless.

Sometimes the menu will confuse you.

Sometimes the ticket machine will win the first round.

Sometimes the staff will say something and you will have absolutely no idea what it means.

But most of the time, you will find a way through.

Point at the menu.
Show a photo.
Use your phone.
Keep your questions simple.
Smile.

And say arigato when you leave.

That will take you surprisingly far in Japan.

Going deeper

Google Translate can get you surprisingly far in Japanese restaurants — but only if you know how to use it.

In this Deep Guide, I show you how I would use camera translation, what to ask when ordering, and what to do when Japanese food words like shirako, horumon, seseri, and otoshi still make no sense even after they have been translated.

→ Read the Deep Guide

kn . 9/5/26 kn . 9/5/26

How Much English Is Spoken in Tokyo?　What Travelers Should Expect

Less English than you might expect — even in Tokyo.

How much English do you think is spoken in Tokyo?

More than you might expect?

After all, this is one of the largest cities in the world. Millions of international visitors come to Japan every year. English appears on train signs, station maps, restaurant websites and hotel booking pages.

So it would be reasonable to assume that getting by in English is fairly easy.

I can tell you this quite clearly:

Less English is spoken than you probably imagine.

That does not mean Tokyo is difficult to travel in.

It means something slightly different.

Tokyo has become very good at helping people travel without necessarily speaking to them.

Where English is usually manageable

At major hotels, international airports, large tourist attractions and some restaurants accustomed to overseas visitors, English is often manageable.

You may also encounter staff who speak excellent English.

Transport is another area where Tokyo can give a misleading impression of how widely English is actually spoken.

Train station signs are often written in both Japanese and English.

Ticket machines may have an English-language option.

Google Maps can take you almost anywhere.

From a visitor’s point of view, the system can feel surprisingly easy.

But the system speaking English is not the same thing as the people around you speaking English.

Once you move outside places designed for international visitors, the situation changes quickly.

And there is one more thing worth remembering:

Tokyo is already one of the easiest places in Japan for an English-speaking visitor. Once you leave Tokyo — especially when you move beyond the major tourist destinations — you can probably imagine what happens. English becomes even less common.

What about an ordinary person on the street?

Imagine you are standing somewhere in Tokyo and you stop a random person walking past.

You ask:

“Excuse me, do you speak English?”

You should not assume the answer will be yes.

Someone may understand a little.

Someone may know what you are asking but feel uncomfortable answering.

Someone may simply smile apologetically and say:

“Sorry.”

This can surprise visitors because Japan is a highly educated country.

English is taught in school for years.

So why is everyday spoken English still relatively limited?

Learning English and using English are different things

For many Japanese people, English has traditionally been something studied for exams rather than something used in daily life.

Reading, grammar and vocabulary have often received far more attention than spontaneous conversation.

And for most people living in Japan, there has historically been very little need to use English after leaving school.

You can live your entire life in Tokyo without speaking English.

You can work, shop, go to restaurants, visit hospitals, take trains and handle almost every part of daily life entirely in Japanese.

So even someone who once studied English for six years may have used it very little since then.

There is another factor, too.

Many Japanese people are afraid of making mistakes.

A person may understand much more English than they are willing to speak.

If they are unsure whether they can answer you correctly, they may decide that saying nothing is safer than saying something imperfectly.

So “I don’t speak English” sometimes means exactly that.

But sometimes it means:

“I don’t feel confident enough to speak English with you.”

That is an important difference.

The Tokyo visitors often don’t see

If you stay around major hotels, famous sights and restaurants that appear frequently in English-language travel media, you may rarely notice any of this.

But walk into a small neighborhood restaurant.

Visit a local clinic.

Ask a question in a small shop.

Take a bus somewhere tourists rarely go.

Suddenly, the amount of English around you can drop dramatically.

And strangely enough, this is often where some of the most interesting parts of Japan begin.

The lack of English does not mean you are unwelcome.

It usually just means the place was never designed with foreign visitors in mind.

That small restaurant may have excellent food.

The owner may be incredibly kind.

Neither of you may be able to speak the other’s language.

And yet, somehow, dinner still happens.

So should you worry?

No.

But you should prepare differently.

Do not come to Tokyo assuming that someone nearby will always be able to explain things to you in English.

Instead, assume that sometimes they will not.

That small change in expectation makes traveling in Japan much easier.

Translation technology is now good enough to solve many everyday situations.

A photograph of a menu can be translated.

A sentence can be typed instead of spoken.

An address can be shown rather than explained.

And sometimes, a few words of Japanese combined with a smile will take you surprisingly far.

Tokyo is not a city where English is spoken everywhere.

But it is a city where you can travel extremely well without speaking much Japanese — if you know how to handle the moments when English stops working.

And those moments will happen.

Going deeper

If you are wondering what to actually do when that happens, I have put together a practical guide based on the situations I would prepare for myself.

3 Things I Would Have Ready When English Stops Working in Japan

Not a language course.

Just three practical tools and habits that can make restaurants, transport and everyday situations much easier.

→ Read the Deep Guide