Discover: Japan | 7 best places to visit in Japan in 4K

Discover: Japan | 7 best places to visit in Japan in 4K

Japan. A name that conjures images of ancient temples and neon skylines, of cherry blossoms and bullet trains moving at impossible speeds. But what lies beneath the surface of this island nation, where tradition and innovation don’t just coexist, they dance. Most travelers see Japan through a narrow lens. Tokyo’s chaos, Kyoto’s temples, perhaps Mount Fuji from a train window. But Japan is a country of whispers and contradictions. Where silence speaks louder than words. Where a tea ceremony can take hours, but a meal is served in minutes. Where the oldest family business on Earth still operates after 1,400 years. Over the next hour, we’ll journey through seven cities that uncover what makes Japan unforgettable. From the electric pulse of Tokyo to the haunting beauty of Hiroshima. From ancient capitals to modern metropolises rebuilt from ashes, this isn’t just a travel guide. This is an invitation to see Japan, as few outsiders ever do. Are you ready? Let’s begin. Tokyo. 13 million people, 37 million in the greater metro area, one of the most populous urban centers on Earth. But rewind 400 years, and Tokyo didn’t exist, at least not by that name. In6003 this was Edeto. A fishing village transformed into the seat of power when Tokugawa Yayasu established his shogunate here. For over 250 years, Edeto grew in isolation. Japan’s doors closed to the outside world. When Commodore Perry’s black ships arrived in 1853, everything changed. The shogunate fell. The emperor moved from Kyoto to Ado. The city was renamed Tokyo, the eastern capital. Then came fire. In 1923, the great Kanto earthquake and subsequent firestorm killed over 100,000 people and leveled much of the city. Tokyo rebuilt. Then came war. By 1945, American firebombing had destroyed half the city and killed another 100,000. Tokyo rebuilt again. What you see today isn’t a preserved historical city. It’s a phoenix. A city that learned to embrace impermanence, to rebuild with resilience, to look forward instead of back. This is why Tokyo feels simultaneously ancient and brand new. Stand in Shinjuku Station during rush hour. 4 million people pass through daily, the world’s busiest transit hub. And yet, notice the silence. No shouting, no phone calls, just the rhythm of 350,000 footsteps per hour. This is WA harmony, the invisible social contract that governs Japanese life. You’ll see it everywhere. In the bow, not just a greeting, but a language of respect with 17 different variations. In the Osuri bon, the small tray used to exchange money, avoiding direct hand contact. In the absence of public trash cans, yet spotless streets because people carry their garbage home. Food in Tokyo is a ritual and a science. There are ramen shops with Michelin stars. Sushi restaurants where the chef decides what you eat. and convenience stores, KBini, where a rice ball costs $2 and tastes better than most restaurant meals back home. But here’s where Tokyo defies logic. This is a city where you can buy hot coffee from a vending machine on a mountain trail at midnight. Where capsule hotels turn sleep into Tetris. Where entire bars seat only six people and the bartender remembers your order from 3 years ago. Walk through Harajuku and you’ll see teenagers dressed like anime characters. Cross into Marunuchi and everyone’s in dark suits moving with corporate precision. By evening, those same salary workers are singing karaoke with the intensity of rock stars. Tokyo lives by the seasons. Spring brings hanami. Cherry blossom viewing parties that turn parks into temporary worlds of pink. Autumn paints the temples gold. Winter wraps the city in illuminations that would make Las Vegas jealous. Did you know that a single blue fin tuna once sold at Tokyo’s sukaji market for $3.1 million? That’s roughly $10,000 per kilogram. The most expensive fish in history. Beneath Tokyo lies a secret. The Ganss project, an underground cathedral of water management. This 50-mi tunnel system can pump 12,000 tons of water per second, protecting the city from floods. It’s the world’s largest storm drain, and it looks like a sci-fi movie set. Tokyo has over 150 animal cafes. Yes, you can drink coffee while petting cats, owls, hedgehogs, even cappy bearas. In a city where many apartments ban pets, these cafes fill an emotional need. Here, fruit is jewelry. A single perfect musk melon can cost $200. Square watermelons, yes, they grow them in boxes, sell for over $150. They’re not meant to be eaten. They’re gifts, status symbols, article. And finally, most visitors miss this. Many of those wild Harajuku fashion rebels you see on Sundays, they’re office workers. Monday through Friday, they wear conservative suits. Weekends are their creative release valve. Tokyo isn’t one city. It’s millions of cities, one for each person living here. We’re leaving the electric present for the spiritual past. Our next stop lies 270 mi west. A journey that takes just over 2 hours at 170 mph. From the city that never stops rebuilding to the city that never forgot who it was. Welcome to Kyoto. [Music] For over a thousand years, this was the heart of Japan, not Tokyo, not Edo, Kyoto. In 794, Emperor Kanmu moved his capital here, calling it Heno, the capital of peace and tranquility. The name was aspirational. The reality was centuries of political intrigue, samurai warfare, and cultural flourishing. This is where Japan’s aesthetic tradition was born. The tea ceremony, Zen gardens, ikabana flower arrangement, kiiseki cuisine, the art of understatement that defines Japanese culture. It all started here. Kyoto has 17 UNESCO World Heritage sites, over 2,000 temples, 400 Shinto shrines, more cultural treasures than most countries possess. And here’s the remarkable thing. Kyoto was spared. During World War II, when Tokyo, Osaka, Hiroshima, and Nagasaki were devastated, Kyoto remained untouched. American Secretary of War Henry Stimson, who had honeymooned here, personally removed it from the bombing target list. What you see in Kyoto isn’t reconstruction. It’s preservation. Wooden matcha houses that have stood for 200 years. Gardens rad by hand every morning for centuries. Traditions passed down through 40 generations. This is Japan’s memory. Let’s start with what everyone gets wrong. Geisha. The word means person of the arts. Not entertainer, not escort, artist. Becoming a geisha takes 5 years of training in traditional dance, music, conversation, and ceremony. There are fewer than 1,000 left in Japan. Most are in Kyoto’s five hanamachi flower towns. You might glimpse one at dusk in Geon, moving between appointments like a living artwork. Kyoto’s temples aren’t museums. They’re living spaces of contemplation. At Ryonji, 15 rocks rest in ravel. From any viewing angle, one rock is always hidden. The lesson: perfection exists only when we accept incompleteness. Kyoto invented Kiaseki, the art of the seasonal tasting menu. Each dish is a painting. Each course reflects the season. Spring brings cherry blossom motifs. Autumn brings maple leaves carved from vegetables. You’re not just eating, you’re experiencing time. Walk through Nishiki Market, Kyoto’s 400-year-old kitchen. Here you’ll find sukimono pickles in 50 varieties. Yuba tofu skin made by hand. Fresh wasabi grated on shark skin. Ingredients you didn’t know existed. The tea ceremony, chado, isn’t about drinking tea. It’s about presents. Every movement has meaning. The host rotates the bowl. The guest admires the glaze. 4 hours can pass preparing and sharing one bowl of whisked green matcha. In Kyoto, slowness is sophistication. Spring transforms Kyoto. Over 1 million tourists flood in for hanami cherry blossom viewing. The philosophers’s path becomes a tunnel of pink. Maruyama Park turns into an outdoor party that lasts until midnight. For 2 weeks, the whole city celebrates impermanence. Kyoto has more Shinto shrines than traffic lights. Seriously, some shrines are smaller than a phone booth tucked between buildings maintained by one family for 20 generations. Fushimi Inari Shrine has 10,000 Vermillion Tory gates. Each one donated by a business seeking good fortune. The path up Mount Inari takes 2 to three hours to hike. Most tourists see only the first 100 gates and leave. A traditional Kyoto breakfast, Asa Gohan, includes an average of 12 separate dishes. Rice, miso soup, grilled fish, pickles, tofu, seaweed. It takes 30 minutes to eat. The idea is that breakfast should be meditative, not rushed. In Gian, there’s an unwritten rule. If you see a geisha, don’t approach her. Don’t ask for photos. Don’t touch her kimono, which can cost $50,000. Just appreciate. Many tourists miss this and face polite but firm rejection. And finally, Kyoto University has produced more Nobel Prize winners than any other university in Asia. 11 laurates in a city famous for preserving the past. Some of Japan’s most cuttingedge research happens here. Ancient wisdom, modern innovation. That’s Kyoto’s contradiction. 30 mi southwest, a different energy awaits. If Tokyo is Japan’s brain and Kyoto its soul, our next city is its appetite. The city that invented instant ramen and doesn’t apologize for anything. This is Osaka. Osaka doesn’t demand your respect like Tokyo or Kyoto. It earns your affection. This was Japan’s merchant capital. While samurai ruled in Ado and emperors presided in Kyoto, Osaka’s merchants controlled the money. In the 1600s, it was called the nation’s kitchen. Rice from across Japan flowed through here, and so did the wealth. Osaka Castle tells the city’s story. Built in 1583 by Toyotomy Hideoshi. Destroyed by war. Rebuilt. Destroyed again. Rebuilt again. The current structure reconstructed with concrete in 1931. Renovated in 1997. It’s fake. And Oscans don’t care. What matters isn’t authenticity, it’s resilience. World War II devastated Osaka. Over 50 bombing raids, over 10,000 dead. The city’s industrial heart was targeted and destroyed. But Osaka rebuilt with swagger. Today, it’s Japan’s second city. Not in size, but in spirit. More relaxed than Tokyo, more fun than Kyoto. Less interested in rules and more interested in making you laugh. Here’s how you spot an Osaken. They’ll talk to strangers. In Tokyo, this is unusual. In Osaka, it’s expected. Osakans have a phrase nanboan. Basically, how much? Because in Osaka, everything’s negotiable. Everyone’s got an opinion and politeness is less important than honesty. Osaka invented quidore, the art of eating yourself into bankruptcy. This is the city of takoyaki. Octopus balls crispy outside, molten inside. Of okonomiyaki, the savory pancake you cook yourself at your table. of kushi katsu fried skewers with one rule. Never double dip in the communal sauce ever. Dobbori is Osaka’s beating heart, a canal lined with restaurants, each marked by absurd three-dimensional signs. A giant moving crab, a massive blowfish, the famous Gleco running man. After dark, this street becomes a food carnival where you eat standing up, moving from stall to stall. Osaka is Japan’s comedy capital. Manzai, a fast-paced duo comedy style, was born here. Many of Japan’s most famous comedians are Osaken. There’s even a dialect, Osaka Ben, considered funnier than standard Japanese. Locals speak it with pride. Osakans are passionate about baseball, specifically the Hanin Tigers. Win or lose, mostly lose fans fill the stadium singing fight songs and releasing balloons. There’s a legend. In 1985, after a championship win, fans threw a Colonel Sanders statue into the river. The Tigers haven’t won since. The Curse of the Colonel. Osaka’s attractions are unpretentious. The Kaukan Aquarium is worldclass, but feels like a neighborhood spot. Shinsukai District embraces retro kit with pride. Universal Studios Japan is here, but so are 100-year-old bathous where you can soak for $5. Mom Fuku Ando invented instant ramen in an Osaka shed in 1958. He was 48 years old and facing bankruptcy. His first batch, chicken ramen, sold out immediately. Today, 100 billion servings of instant ramen are consumed globally each year. There’s a museum here where you can design your own cup noodles flavor. Stand on the right, walk on the left. That’s Osaka escalator etiquette. The opposite of Tokyo, where you stand on the left. This regional difference is taken seriously. Break the rule and you’ll get glares. Osaka has the world’s longest underground shopping street, Umeda Chicago, stretching 80,000 square meters beneath the city. You could spend an entire day underground shopping, eating, never seeing daylight. Many office workers do exactly that. Tutenaku Tower in Shinskai is Osaka’s answer to the Eiffel Tower. Shorter, weirder, more colorful, it’s only 103 m tall, but beloved. At its base sits a golden statue of Bilickin, the god of things as they ought to be. Rub his feet for luck. And finally, in Osaka, it’s socially acceptable to eat while walking. In most of Japan, this is considered rude. But Osakans, they’ll eat takoyaki on the move. Okonomiyaki with one hand. Kushi Kikatu straight from the fryer. Food is meant to be enjoyed, not constrained by etiquette. This is the Osaka way. Our next destination carries weight. A city whose name is synonymous with a moment that changed human history. But Hiroshima is more than its past. It’s a testament to resilience, to rebuilding, to choosing peace. Let’s approach with respect. August 6th, 1945, 8:15 in the morning. A single atomic bomb detonated 580 m above Hiroshima. The temperature at ground zero reached 7,000° F. Within seconds, 70,000 people were dead. By year’s end, the toll reached 140,000. But this story doesn’t start or end there. Before the bomb, Hiroshima was a military city, yes, but also a cultural center. Founded in 1589 by Daimo Morioto, it sat on the delta of the Ot River, six waterways flowing through the city like veins. The Genbaku Dome, now the Abomb Dome, was the Hiroshima Perfeural Industrial Promotion Hall. It stood 160 m from the Hypo Center. Its steel frame survived. Today, it stands exactly as it did after the blast. Not rebuilt, not restored, preserved as a reminder. Hiroshima made a choice. Not to hide its scars, not to tear down the evidence, but to become a symbol. The Peace Memorial City, a living argument for nuclear disarmament. The city rebuilt. Within 3 years, population returned to pre-bomb levels. Within a decade, Hiroshima was thriving again. Today, over 1 million people live here. The street cars, some of them survivors from 1945, still run. This is a city that refused to let tragedy define it. Visit the Peace Memorial Park on August 6th and you’ll witness something profound. Tens of thousands gather in silence. Paper cranes, millions of them, cover monuments. The peace bell rings. Children read poems. Survivors Hibushia share testimonies. There’s no anger here. No calls for revenge. Just a quiet, persistent plea. Never again. The Children’s Peace Monument honors Saddako Sasaki, who died of leukemia caused by radiation exposure when she was 12. She folded over 1,000 paper cranes, believing the legend that doing so would grant a wish. She died before reaching her goal. Now, millions of cranes arrive from around the world, folded by children who’ve never been to Hiroshima, but understand its message. But Hiroshima isn’t frozen and mourning. It lives. And like Osaka, it lives through food. Hiroshima style okonomiyaki is different. Layered, not mixed. Cabbage, bean sprouts, pork, egg, noodles, all stacked on a griddle, flipped with precision. There’s an art to it. Locals claim it’s superior to Osaka’s version. That debate will never be settled. 20 minutes by ferry from Hiroshima sits Miaima, one of Japan’s three most scenic views. The floating Tory gate of Itsukushima shrine appears to hover on water at high tide. Deer roam freely. The island is considered so sacred that for centuries no births or deaths were allowed here. The Peace Memorial Museum doesn’t sensationalize. It doesn’t need to. A child’s tricycle melted and charred. A watch stopped at 8:15. A wall shadow where a person stood. These objects speak quietly and their quietness is devastating. Most visitors leave in tears. Mazda, the car company, is headquartered in Hiroshima. After the bombing, the company’s factories became emergency hospitals. Today, Mazda remains the city’s largest employer, a symbol of Hiroshima’s industrial resilience. Hiroshima has the most extensive street car network in Japan. Some of the cars are original models from the 1940s, survivors of the atomic bomb. They’ve been continuously maintained and still carry passengers daily. Riding one feels like time travel. Hiroshima produces the most oysters in Japan. The waters around Miaima create ideal growing conditions. If you visit between October and March, you can eat them grilled, fried, raw, or in hot pot. Locals claim they’re the best in the world. The Hiroshima Toyocarp baseball team draws fierce loyalty. After the atomic bombing, the team’s formation in 1950 gave the city something to rally around. Their fan chants are famous throughout Japan, a rhythmic call and response that fills the stadium. The flame of peace in Memorial Park has burned continuously since 1964. It will not be extinguished until all nuclear weapons on Earth are destroyed. It’s been burning for over 60 years. Hiroshima is patient. We’re traveling north to the Sea of Japan coast. To a city that time protected, where samurai districts remain intact, where gold leaf covers everything. Where geisha still entertain in the old way. A city that preserved what others lost. This is Kanazawa, Japan’s hidden jewel. Kanazawa means marsh of gold. The name comes from a legend. A peasant named Imohori Tooro washed potatoes in a marsh and discovered gold dust. Reality is less poetic, but more impressive. For over 300 years, Kanazawa was ruled by the Mietta clan, one of the wealthiest daimo families in Japan. They controlled the riceerich Kaga domain which produced more revenue than many small nations. With that wealth came patronage, arts, crafts, culture. Here’s Kanazawa’s secret. Geography saved it. Nestled between mountains and sea, it wasn’t strategically important during World War II. No factories, no military installations. So, American bombers passed it by. What resulted is rare. A Japanese city where the past remains physically present. Samurai houses with earthn walls still stand. Geisha tea houses operate as they did 200 years ago. Traditional crafts, gold leaf, lacquerware, koutani porcelain continue unbroken through generations. Kanazawa isn’t a museum piece though. The 21st century Museum of Contemporary Art brings cuttingedge design. The train station entrance, a massive wooden gate called Suzuim, merges tradition with modern engineering. This is a city that respects its past but doesn’t live in it. Kenroquin is considered one of Japan’s three great gardens. The name means garden of six sublimities, six perfect attributes, spaciousness, seclusion, artifice, antiquity, water features, panoramic views. Walk through in winter when yukatsuri protective rope structures shield trees from heavy snow. They look like conicle sculptures. Each rope is tied by hand using traditional techniques. Come spring, the ropes come down and cherry blossoms take over. Kanazawa produces 99% of Japan’s gold leaf. Yes, 99%. Sheets are hammered so thin that 10,000 stacked layers would measure only a few centime. You’ll find gold on temples, Buddha statues, pottery, and yes, even food. Gold leaf ice cream is a thing here. The Higashi Chaya District is one of Japan’s best preserved geisha quarters. Chaya means tea house. Exclusive establishments where geisha entertain with music, dance, and conversation. You can’t just walk in. You need an introduction. Many are closed to firsttime visitors entirely. Omicho market has fed Kanazawa for 280 years. The sea of Japan provides bounty. Snow crab in winter, yellowtail in spring, rockfish in summer. Sushi here is extraordinary because the fish literally arrived this morning. Kanazawa’s crafts culture runs deep. Koutani porcelain with its vivid overglaze. Kaga silk dying with intricate patterns. Wajima lacquer wear built up through dozens of layers. These aren’t souvenirs. They’re heirlooms passed through generations. Walk through Nagamachi, the samurai district, and notice the earthn walls, ochre colored, slightly uneven. They’ve been repaired and maintained for centuries using the same clay mixtures. Behind those walls, samurai houses preserve traditional interiors. Tatami rooms, hidden staircases, private gardens. Knazawa has more rainy days than any major Japanese city, over 240 days with precipitation annually. This shaped the culture, hence the emphasis on indoor crafts and the local expression. Even if you forget your lunch, never forget your umbrella. Miruji Temple is nicknamed the ninja temple. Not because ninjas lived there. They didn’t. But because it’s filled with defensive features, hidden rooms, trap doors, concealed tunnels, secret staircases. During the Edeto period, when displays of military power were forbidden, the temple doubled as a secret fortress. Kanazawa has 15 designated Kaga vegetables. Heirloom varieties grown here for centuries. The Kaga lotus root is sweeter. The Gensuk radish is spicier. These vegetables are protected by geographical indication status. You can’t grow a real kaga vegetable anywhere else. Kanazawa’s wagashi, traditional Japanese sweets, are edible art made from rice flour, sweet bean paste, and sugar. They’re shaped into seasonal motifs. Cherry blossoms in spring, maple leaves in autumn. Each sweet represents the current season or an upcoming festival. DT Suzuki, the philosopher who introduced Zen Buddhism to the west, was born here. His museum in Kanazawa is a contemplative space. Minimalist architecture, reflecting pools, quiet rooms. It’s not about learning zen. It’s about feeling it. Kanazawa is Japan’s hidden jewel. A city that preserved what others lost. We’re heading north. Far north to Japan’s newest frontier. A place that wasn’t even considered fully Japanese until the late 19th century. Where winter lasts 5 months. Where ramen was perfected. Where a beer company built a city. This is Saporro, Japan’s wild north. Saporro is young. Impossibly young by Japanese standards. Until the 1860s, Hokkaido, Japan’s northernmost island, was called Azo. It was frontier territory, home to the indigenous Anu people who’d lived here for thousands of years. The Japanese considered it remote, foreign, too cold. Then came the Maji restoration. Japan needed to modernize, expand, secure its borders against Russian expansion. In 1869, the government established the Hokkaido Development Commission and renamed EO to Hokkaido, Northern Sea Circuit. Saporro was designed from scratch in 1869. American advisers helped plan it, hence the grid layout unusual for Japan. Wide streets, right angles, space. It looks more like an American Midwestern city than Tokyo or Kyoto. The Saporro Beer Brewery opened in 1876. It wasn’t just a business. It was a statement. Hokkaido could produce worldclass products. Today, Saporro is Japan’s fifth largest city and Hokkaido’s capital. The beer still excellent. The 1972 Winter Olympics put Saporro on the world map. Japan’s first winter games, new infrastructure, international attention. The city transformed from Frontier Outpost to modern metropolis in a single generation. Every February, Saporro hosts the snow festival, Yuki Matsuri. Over 200 ice and snow sculptures, some as large as buildings, anime characters, historical monuments, intricate castles. Over 2 million visitors brave sub-zero temperatures to witness it. This started small in 1950. Six local high school students built snow statues in Adori Park. Now it’s one of Japan’s biggest festivals. Saporro Perfected Miso Ramen. Rich, savory, topped with corn and butter. Ingredients that reflect Hokkaido’s agricultural abundance. The ramen is designed for winter. Hot enough to warm you from the inside. Thick enough to satisfy farmers and fishermen. Ramen Yokucho. Ramen Alley packs 17 ramen shops into a single block. Each one claims to be the original. The competition is fierce. The ramen is extraordinary. Suzukino is Japan’s northernmost entertainment district. Neon signs, izakayas, nightclubs. In summer, it’s lively. In winter, it’s surreal. Neon reflecting off snow, steam rising from grates. The temperature 20° below zero. Hawkaido University’s campus is stunning. In autumn, a 70-year-old go tree avenue turns golden. In winter, snow buries the pathways. Students cross-country ski to class. It’s one of Japan’s top universities and the only one where wildlife, foxes, deer, regularly wander through campus. Shiroy Kibito, white lover, is Hokkaido’s most famous cookie. Two thin butter cookies with white chocolate between them. The factory in Saporro looks like a fairy tale European mansion. You can tour it, watch cookies being made, and yes, sample them fresh. The ANU culture is slowly gaining recognition. For decades, it was suppressed. Now there are cultural centers, museums, language programs. Traditional AU patterns, intricate geometric designs appear on textiles and wood carvings. It’s a complicated history, but progress is happening. Saporro receives an average of 16 ft of snow annually. That’s nearly 5 m. The city has an elaborate system of heated sidewalks and underground passages connecting buildings. In winter, you can navigate large parts of downtown without ever going outside. The Saporro clock tower is the city’s symbol. A modest wooden building with a working clock installed in 1881. It’s been keeping time for over 140 years. Many tourists expect something grand and are surprised by its simplicity. But that’s Saporro. Practical over pretentious. Saporro invented soup curry. Not the thick Japanese curry you know, but a spiced broth with vegetables and your choice of chicken, lamb, or seafood. It emerged in the 1970s and has become Saporro’s signature dish alongside ramen. Over 200 soup curry restaurants compete citywide. Saporro is so close to wilderness that Hokkaido brown bears occasionally wander into residential areas. Not regularly, but enough that warning signs are common. There are protocols, sirens. The city exists on the edge of nature in a way Tokyo never could. The Saporro Beer Garden operates year round, but summer is when it truly shines. Genghaskhan, Jingosukan, is the specialty. Grilled lamb cooked on a dome-shaped skillet. You eat outdoors under the stars, drinking fresh Saporro beer, cooking your own meat. It’s communal, casual, and quintessentially Hokkaido. In Saporro, rough edges are part of the charm. We’re returning south, but not to Tokyo. To its neighbor, its rival, its compliment. A city built on international connections. Where Japan first opened to the world, where cultures collide and create something new. This is Yokohama, the port that changed everything. In 1853, Commodore Matthew Perry’s black ships anchored in Yokohama Bay. Japan’s 200-year isolation, Sakoku, was ending. Whether it wanted to or not, Yokohama was chosen as the official treaty port in 1859. Not Tokyo, then called Ido. The shogunit wanted to keep foreigners at a safe distance from the capital. Yokohama was a fishing village of a 100 households. Perfect. Within decades, Yokohama transformed. Foreign merchants built trading houses. Chinese immigrants established what became Japan’s largest Chinatown. Westernstyle buildings lined the streets. Gas lamps, sidewalks, horsedrawn carriages. Japan’s first railway connected Yokohama to Tokyo in 1872. The 1923 Great KTO earthquake devastated Yokohama worse than Tokyo. The port facilities collapsed. Fires consumed the foreign settlement. 60,000 people died. The city rebuilt with modern materials, wider streets, earthquake resistant designs. Today, Yokohama is Japan’s second largest city by population. 3.7 million residents. It’s Tokyo’s compliment. More international, more relaxed, more experimental. The Manado Mi 21 district showcases futuristic architecture. The landmark tower stood as Japan’s tallest building from 1993 to 2014. Yokohama looks forward, not back. Yokohama Chinatown is the largest in Japan. Over 600 shops and restaurants packed into a few blocks. Four ornate gates mark the cardinal directions. You’ll smell roasted chestnuts, steamed buns, and Seshuan spices before you see them. This isn’t a tourist recreation. Chinese immigrants have lived here continuously since the 1860s. Festivals are authentic. The food is legitimate. It’s a living community, not a theme park. The Cup Noodles Museum celebrates instant ramen with unironic enthusiasm. You can design your own custom cup noodles, choose your soup, select your toppings, decorate the cup. It’s quirky, interactive, and surprisingly educational about food innovation. Remember, Momaf Fuku Ando’s invention changed how the world eats. Sankan Garden offers tranquility minutes from downtown. A silk merchant named Hara Sank built it in 1906, relocating historic structures from Kyoto and Kamakura. a three-story pagod, tea houses, all set in a 17 hectare garden with ponds, hills, and seasonal flowers. It’s proof that Yokohama, despite its modernity, understands traditional beauty. The Red Brick Warehouse, Aarena, dates to 1911. Originally customs buildings, they’re now cultural spaces hosting markets, concerts, and exhibitions. In winter, there’s an outdoor ice skating rink. In summer, beer gardens. The brick exteriors remain unchanged. Industrial heritage as aesthetic. Yamashta Park runs along the waterfront. It’s romantic in the evening. Harbor lights, distant ships, Mount Fuji visible on clear days. Couples stroll. Street musicians perform. The Hikawa Maru, a retired ocean liner from 1930, is permanently docked as a museum ship. The Shiny Yokohama Ramen Museum isn’t a museum. It’s a food theme park. The basement recreates 1958 Tokyo with period storefrs and lighting. Nine ramen shops represent different regional styles. You can taste Hokkaido miso ramen, Kyushu Tonkotu, Tokyo Shyu, all without leaving the building. It’s delicious research. Yokohama is one of the world’s busiest ports. Container ships the size of skyscrapers dock here daily. It’s Japan’s gateway for international trade, just as it was in 1859. The scale is overwhelming. Cranes moving in synchronized ballet, containers stacked like Lego blocks. The Yokohama Den Bay stars play at Yokohama Stadium, which seats 30,000. Their fans are known for coordinated cheers and balloon releases after the seventh inning. Win or lose, they lose a lot. The atmosphere is electric. Yokohama has the highest concentration of international schools in Japan. Over 100 nationalities are represented in the city’s foreign resident population. You’ll hear Mandarin, English, Portuguese, Tagalog on the streets. This diversity shaped Yokohama’s openness. The Yamate district preserves westernstyle houses from the foreign settlement era. Seven historic residences are open to the public. Victorian, Spanish, French colonial architecture. Inside are period furnishings and exhibits on early international residents. It’s like stepping into a different country without leaving Japan. Yokohama claims to have invented Napolitan spaghetti, pasta with ketchup based sauce, a dish found nowhere in Italy. It emerged in the 1950s when a chef at the New Grand Hotel adapted military rations into something palatable. Now it’s a nostalgic comfort food across Japan. Only in Yokohama could a fake Italian dish become a national staple. Seven cities, seven faces of Japan. Tokyo, the phoenix that rebuilds itself endlessly. Kyoto, the keeper of traditions. Osaka, the city that laughs at rules. Hiroshima, the testament to resilience and peace. Kanazawa, where time moves slower and craftsmanship matters. Saporro, the frontier spirit on the edge of wilderness. Yokohama, the gateway where cultures collide and create. But beyond these cities lies something deeper, a way of being that defines Japan. Omoashi, hospitality without expectation of reward. Wabishabi, finding beauty in imperfection. Shogunai, accepting what cannot be changed. Ikiguai, reason for being. Japan doesn’t choose between old and new. It holds both. A country where you can attend a thousand-year-old tea ceremony in the morning and ride a magnetically levitated train in the afternoon. where vending machines dispense everything from eggs to umbrellas. But handwritten thank you notes are still standard. The Japanese have a word mono noare, the pathos of things. An awareness that beauty is fleeting, that cherry blossoms fall, that seasons end, that nothing lasts forever. And yet they celebrate anyway because nothing lasts forever. Japan isn’t easy to understand. It doesn’t try to be. It invites you to experience, to observe, to feel, to appreciate what you cannot fully grasp. That’s the beauty of Japan. Not something you conquer or decode. Something you witness, something that changes you if you let it. This was simply global travel. Join us one journey at a time as we explore the world through a fresh lens. And next up, come along with us as we discover France. What makes France more than a collection of postcards? What transforms a country into a feeling? This is your invitation to see France, not as tourists do, but as those who truly know it experience it every day. We’ll explore the many dimensions of French life that reveal why this nation has captivated the world for centuries.

Before you visit Japan, watch this! Japan is more than neon cities and cherry blossoms, it’s a country where ancient traditions meet the future. From Kyoto’s quiet temples and tea rituals to Tokyo’s unstoppable energy and Osaka’s street food chaos, every corner tells a story. This video explores the real Japan: the culture and traditions, the balance of beauty, order and imperfection that defines its essence. Whether you’re planning your first trip or dreaming of returning, this essential guide invites the culturally curious to explore Japan beyond the postcards.

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Chapters:
00:00 Intro
01:04 Tokyo
06:06 Kyoto
11:12 Osaka
16:29 Hiroshima
21:45 Kanazawa
27:26 Sapporo
33:26 Yokohama
39:10 Closing