Overcast grey skies and biting winds greet me as I arrive at Tokyo's Narita Airport. Half an hour later, we find ourselves in the city's historic core, driving past the Imperial Palace—once the seat of the 16th-century Tokugawa shogunate and still the residence of the Emperor today. Ahead of us, a swirling mass of people crosses the road, huddled under clear plastic umbrellas. Evidently, a little November rain does nothing to deter the twelve million people who throng the streets of this magnificent city daily.
Kiyoko, our diminutive guide and translator, flashes a cheerful smile. "We cannot walk in the Imperial Palace Garden because of the rain, so I'm taking you to Akihabara, ok?"
The heart of Tokyo's electronics and computer industries—and the mecca of Japanese manga merchandising—Akihabara looms before us, raucous and glittering. Flashing neon signs plaster its high-rises from ground to sky. Braving the rain, we buy a plastic umbrella and dash to the nearest store. Inside, shelves brim with miniature collectibles: cellphone charms, lucky cats, Moshi Monsters, Pokémons, kokeshi dolls, and smiley Doraemons.
Incidentally, the Japanese take their manga and anime very seriously—Doraemon was named the country's first anime ambassador in 2008. Upstairs, shelves groan under the weight of the latest Gundam giant robot models, where a group of teens hovers, their ears plugged with iPod headphones.
Next, we visit a gaming arcade, a cacophony of lights and sounds, where row upon row of machines keep regulars riveted. The ambient noise is deafening, forcing me to shout to be heard. "Could you teach me to play?" I bellow to a friendly group of high-schoolers.
Half an hour later, 400 yen lighter, Kiyoko explains with a laugh that I stand no chance of winning—not against a machine, but against two live players at consoles somewhere else in Tokyo.
Reeling from the sensory onslaught, I sink gratefully into the padded comfort of our bus. Our next destination is Sensoji Temple, Tokyo's most sacred shrine. Dedicated to Kannon, the Buddhist goddess of mercy, Sensoji's main buildings were destroyed during World War II and later rebuilt.
We enter through the two-storeyed Hozomon Gate, which leads to Nakamise-dori, a bustling pedestrian street lined with shops offering dolls, kimonos, and an array of wagashi—delicate Japanese confections. At the end of the street, we reach the exquisite main hall, its red sloping roof adorned with paintings of heavenly beings holding lotus flowers.
I pause to watch families ceremonially washing their hands under streams of water flowing from dragonhead spouts and wafting smoke from the incense burner over their heads for good fortune. Drawn to a fortune-telling stand, I pull out a numbered divination stick and match it to a corresponding drawer. Inside, I find a slip of paper that reads: “No. 78: Excellent fortune. You will experience abundant happiness in the future.”
Buoyed by this cheerful prediction, I wander through the temple's Niten-mon Gate and stumble upon a quaint Japanese bakery. A steaming cup of hot chocolate and fresh bread, still warm from the oven, offer the perfect end to the visit.
As we drive past the red-brick Tokyo Station, the clouds part, revealing clear skies. We arrive at the Imperial Palace East Garden, a serene green lung in the heart of the city. Visitors criss-cross the paved pathways leading to the iconic double-arched Nijubashi Bridge, with the castle's main keep visible beyond.
It's an ideal spot for people-watching. A palace guard politely asks where I’m from, while an elderly gentleman, resting on a stone bench with a cane by his side, tips his hat and gestures that it’s fine to take his photograph. Nearby, two policemen on bicycles wait at a stoplight, their navy-blue uniforms striking against the golden foliage of ginkgo trees.
In Tokyo, don’t just visit the landmarks. Walk the streets, sit on park benches, and ride the metro to truly experience the city’s rhythm.
Miko whisks us away to the Tokyo Skytree, a towering marvel at 634 metres and the world's tallest broadcasting tower. Our visit is a whirlwind. We’re ushered into Japan’s fastest elevator, which accommodates forty passengers and ascends at a jaw-dropping speed of 600 metres per minute.
The effort is rewarded as we step onto the observation deck, greeted by breathtaking views of the Sumida River, where riverboats glide gracefully through Tokyo’s vast concrete expanse.
Tumbling back to the streets, we make our way to Koomon, a private establishment in Asakusa, where a traditional tea ceremony awaits.
The Koomon's proprietor has dedicated over thirty years to reviving Japan's rich living heritage, including flower arrangement (ikebana), calligraphy (shodo), and the Way of Tea (chaji). Perfected five centuries ago by Murato Shuko, the tea ceremony intertwined Zen Buddhist principles of harmony and purity, resonating deeply with samurai ideals. Thus, the Way of Tea emerged as a chance to "share special moments" with companions.
Clasping a delicate ceramic cup, I ladle hot water from the kama (kettle) using a bamboo hishaku (ladle). From the tiny natsume (tea jar), I scoop powdered green tea (matcha), stirring it with a fine bamboo whisk (chasen). As I perform these precise rituals, my thoughts drift to Japan’s shogunate era, a time of courtly elegance and restraint.
Finally, I turn the cup clockwise and sip. The tea is intensely bitter, a flavour perhaps best appreciated over time. Yet, as we leave, a rare sense of calm settles over me—an uncharacteristic but welcome meditation.
Miko decides it’s time to head to Odaiba for dinner. A man-made island at the mouth of Tokyo Bay, Odaiba is renowned for its entertainment, shopping, and fine dining options. Overlooking the bay and the dazzling lights of the "Rainbow" suspension bridge, we indulge in a feast of navratan korma, murgh handi-se, mutton durbari, ma ki dal, and mango lassi.
For many Indian travellers, the biggest challenge in visiting Japan is often its cuisine. They’ll be relieved to know that Tokyo boasts hundreds of Indian restaurants. For others, however, the city is a culinary paradise. Fresh sushi shops range from budget-friendly spots with "sushi trains" to exquisite fine-dining venues.
During our visit, we enjoyed a delightful bowl of udon (wheat) noodles, topped with crispy shrimp tempura and spiced with shichimi powder, at the Skytree food court. My favourite soba (buckwheat) noodles were from a charming eatery in Shinjuku Station. Yet, the top spot goes to the lively izakaya—traditional Japanese pubs where I savoured yakitori, charcoal-grilled chicken skewers served with mouth-watering dips and sauces, perfectly paired with a cold Asahi beer.
If you’re a theatre enthusiast, a trip to Tokyo is incomplete without experiencing a Kabuki performance. Early the next morning, we make our way to the Shinbashi Enbujo Theatre in Ginza for the 11 a.m. matinee. The play, Futatsu Chocho Kuruwa Nikki (The Diary of Two Butterflies), is a four-hour spectacle. Local patrons arrive well-prepared, carrying bento lunch boxes to sustain them through the performance.
Kabuki has its roots in 17th-century Kyoto and is renowned for its flamboyant characters, stylised dialogue, elaborate makeup, and breathtaking kimonos. Theatrical elements such as cables for flying actors and revolving stages add to its mesmerising appeal. To my delight, I’m able to rent an earphone translation receiver, allowing me to follow the intricate plot and action live.
Before leaving Tokyo, I have one final wish: to pay my respects to the statue of Hachiko, the faithful Akita dog who, in the 1920s, waited at Shibuya Station every evening for his deceased master to return—an unwavering vigil that lasted nine years.
Just outside the Hachiko-guchi exit, I spot him. Surrounded by a crowd of people and cameras, Hachiko sits solemnly, much as he must have in real life. Today, he wears a smart red sash, one ear perked up and the other drooping slightly.
Behind me, the bustling energy of Shibuya unfolds as cars thunder across its iconic six-way zebra crossing. All traffic lights synchronise to red, and the cars come to a halt. In an instant, a sea of humanity streams across the vast intersection from every direction, a living embodiment of Tokyo’s dynamic spirit.
Later that evening, we board the Shinkansen, Japan's iconic bullet train, bound for our next destination: the port city of Yokohama, just 30 kilometres to the south.
Our visit begins at Yokohama’s wharf, home to the picturesque Yamashita Park, which was built on land reclaimed using debris from the devastating Great Kanto Earthquake of 1923. The park’s waterfront promenade is lined with charming flower gardens and attracts the city’s vibrant residents.
An elderly duo sits quietly, immersed in creating art with ink and canvas. Nearby, a stylishly dressed lady walks her poodle, both clad in matching winter coats that turn heads. As I stroll further, I notice a Cyclopolitain—an eco-friendly electric tricycle cab powered by a combination of manpower and an electric motor—a delightful nod to sustainable urban transport.
Once a small fishing village, Yokohama opened up for trade in the mid-nineteenth century and is now Japan's second-largest city. We board the Sea Bass for a scenic ferry ride around the harbour. As we glide through the waters, I spot an offshore wind turbine spinning gracefully, a police speedboat cutting through the waves ahead, and the Japan Coast Guard on patrol in the distance.
Our boat docks near a striking nineteenth-century red brick warehouse from the Meiji period. This area, known as Minato Mirai 21, showcases a blend of redeveloped docks and modern skyscrapers crafted from glass and chrome.
We wander through the district, passing by Wan Wan House, a dog-grooming parlour where a less-than-pleased pooch undergoes a cut and dry. Nearby, the surprisingly popular CupNoodles Museum catches our eye. Here, you can learn about Momofuku Ando, the inventor of the world’s first instant ramen, and even create your own custom ramen flavour in a cup.
On our last morning in Yokohama, we visit the city's highlight: the serene Sankeien Garden, created in 1902 by silk trader Sankei Hara. This tranquil oasis is home to seventeen historic teahouses and pagodas, relocated from as far as Kyoto and Kamakura. Winding paths guide us past ginkgo trees, wisteria-covered trellises, and fields of blooming chrysanthemums. As I take in the sights, I realise that Japan in the fall is a riot of burnished rust, orange, and canary yellow hues.
We pass the Choshukaku building, aptly named "listen to autumn," where arched bridges cross lily-filled ponds, a rowboat rests at the shore, and ducks glide gracefully across mirrored waters. We make our way up to a three-storeyed pagoda, and from the top, the unmistakable conical peak of Mt. Fuji comes into view, framed by the funnels of a thermal power plant.
Our final stop before leaving Yokohama is a lunch in Chinatown, the largest Chinese settlement in Japan. After the meal, we board a flight bound for our next and final destination: the island of Okinawa.
The southernmost landmass of Japan, the Okinawa archipelago consists of sixty-five subtropical islands nestled between the East China Sea and the Pacific Ocean. At its southernmost tip lies the tiny island of Yonaguni, so close to Taiwan—just 125 kilometres away—that it receives Taiwanese television broadcasts. The largest island, Okinawa, was once a vassal of China, which named it Liu-chiu (Ryukyu in Japanese). The ruling Ryukyu dynasty took its name from this region, and as a result, Okinawans are culturally and ethnically closer to China than to mainland Japan.
We land in the capital of Naha and are greeted by Hiromi, our guide. A burst of warm, salty air reminds us that we're in the tropics, far from the chill of Tokyo. Ryukyu Mura, an Okinawan theme village, offers us our first taste of Ryukyu culture. We're just in time for the parade, led by actors portraying the king and queen. The procession features Eisa dancers accompanied by Odaiko barrel drums, musicians playing the snakeskin-covered, banjo-like sanshin, and an island version of the lion dance—a mix of pantomime and dance—where a jolly-faced lion trainer pretends to train his reluctant pet lion.
"Okinawans are known for their longevity," Hiromi tells us. Here, the average life expectancy for women is eighty-eight, while men live well into their nineties.
We drive along Okinawa's west coast. "The island's northern region has beautiful marine reserves, where you might encounter the habu, our most venomous snake," Hiromi explains. Until the early twentieth century, Okinawa didn't have snake anti-venom. In 1910, a professor from Tokyo University helpfully sent seventeen mongooses to combat the habu. However, what the professor didn’t know was that mongooses hunt during the day, while the habu hunts at night, so the two never crossed paths. Meanwhile, the mongooses have greatly endangered Okinawa's indigenous flightless bird, the Okinawa rail.
We visit Shurijo Castle, the seat of the Ryukyu Kingdom from 1429 and, more recently, the headquarters of the Japanese armed forces during World War II. The original fifteenth-century structures were destroyed during the Battle of Okinawa in 1945 and have been painstakingly reconstructed using photographs and other references. Beneath the castle's foundations lies a labyrinth of tunnelled war rooms, from where the Japanese High Command planned their fierce retaliation against American troops. The Battle of Okinawa, which lasted eighty-two days, claimed the lives of 13,000 American soldiers and an overwhelming 250,000 Japanese troops and Okinawan civilians.
We stop at Cape Manza, where wooden walkways stretch along the edges of sheer cliffs, offering dramatic views of the ocean. Hiromi hurries us along so we won't be late for our next appointment—lunch at the Busena Terrace Beach Resort's terrace café. We indulge in an enormous and delectable meal: fresh greens with an Okinawa salt dressing, sticky rice with a pepper chicken curry, steamed Thai-style white fish, pork shabu-shabu (hotpot), prawn tempura, unagi (eel), and fig pound cake.
It's early evening by the time we reach the coastal Ocean Expo Park, our stomachs still full to bursting. We're here to visit the Churaumi Aquarium, home to a dolphin show, resident whale sharks (which can grow up to forty feet), and the world's first manta ray pups successfully born in captivity.
As my plane charts its final course home, I recall that Okinawans believe happiness lies beyond the horizon. But I'm fairly certain that happiness exists in the jewel-like islands shimmering in the East China Sea.
All Nippon Airways (ANA), Japan Airlines, and Air India fly nonstop from Delhi and Mumbai to Tokyo. Singapore Airlines and several other carriers fly to Tokyo from India's major cities with one stop at Kuala Lumpur, Hong Kong, Bangkok, Singapore, Guangzhou, Beijing, Dubai, or Abu Dhabi.
