We were touring the top floor of a fish flake factory called Yamagawa Suisan, wandering amid rock-solid stacks of dried skipjack tuna that felt strangely reminiscent of petrified wood. The roof was charred with smoke from the kilns, bearing witness to the intense labor required in this specialized corner of Kagoshima Prefecture. In a corner, surrounded by piles of hundreds of fish, a diminutive man in dirty Velcro sneakers and a sweatsuit, a white rag wrapped tightly around his head, was sorting through the inventory one-by-one, inspecting each hardened filet for perfection.
At first, I assumed this was simply a lowly factory worker tending to the daily grind. However, our tour guide later explained that this sweaty fellow, squatting on the ground and covered in grime, painstakingly going over every single fish filet by hand, was actually the company’s CEO. He looked up at us and offered a half-smile, but appeared far more concerned with his work than hamming it up for some tourists.
Initially, I was shocked. Then, I wanted to buy as much katsuobushi as I could. Luckily, we later stepped outside to the harbor and were invited to grind our own. This was a profoundly special experience, because katsuobushi produced through this meticulous process—which involves repeatedly applying mold and sun-drying smoked bonito over several months to properly mature it—is considered the highest grade available, known as honkarebushi. Kagoshima accounts for 70% of Japan’s honkarebushi production, making it the premier destination in the country to find the authentic product.
It was this raw authenticity, at once deeply traditional and—in a world marred by performative fakery—remarkably unconventional, that defined my time in Japan.
I was traveling in Japan with the support of the Tokyo Convention & Visitors Bureau. Although we spent the majority of our time exploring the quiet expanses of Kyushu, the southernmost of Japan’s main islands, our journey fittingly began in the bustling capital of Tokyo.
We kicked off the adventure not in the neon-drenched future, but in a richly grounded past. We visited a Rinzai Zen Buddhist temple, Kinryu-ji, where a resident monk led us in a session of traditional zazen meditation.
The silence, broken only by the occasional shuffle of a robe or the distant hum of the city, was profound. It wasn’t about clearing the mind entirely, but about anchoring it—a centering sensation I hadn’t experienced in months.
This contemplative start was followed by instruction in the serene art of calligraphy, where I watched the monk move a brush with the fluid confidence of a master dancer. The morning concluded with a sublime matcha tea ceremony. The vibrant green liquid, whisked to a delicate froth, tasted earthy and complex, a warm ritual that provided a quiet start to a very loud trip. It served as the perfect counterpoint to the rush I knew was waiting for us.
That rush arrived with our next major stop: Shibuya Scramble Square. I wanted to view the world’s busiest pedestrian intersection from a completely new perspective, and there is no better place to do so than the Shibuya Sky observation facility. We soared more than 751 feet into the air—a dizzying ascent that put the entire sprawling metropolis into breathtaking perspective.
Up there, the chaotic rush of pedestrians below, which moments before had felt overwhelming, transformed into a choreographed, mesmerizing ballet of humanity. The horizon was a shimmering panorama of glass and steel, beyond which rose the majestic, snow-capped cone of Mt. Fuji at 12,389 feet. It was a humbling moment—yet another striking contrast of past and present—with that enduring symbol of ancient Japan silhouetted high above the sprawl of its ultramodern metropolis.
One of our other favorite stops in Tokyo was designed to unleash a completely different kind of energy: rhythm and raw power at Taiko-Lab. Here, we learned how to practice taiko, a traditional form of Japanese drumming that functions as both an intense, high-energy cardio workout and a spiritual release. Standing before a giant drum, I learned the vigorous choreography, the precise stances, and the explosive physical movements required to produce those booming, resonating notes. There was a lot of exhilarating shouting—the kiai—that focused our collective energy and turned the music into a roaring communal experience. I left Taiko-Lab exhausted, but thoroughly exhilarated.
That night, we enjoyed an evening out in Sangenjaya, affectionately known as "Sancha," one of Tokyo’s trendiest neighborhoods. We ducked into Sancha Ikkyu Hanare, a cozy, bustling izakaya restaurant that perfectly captured the neighborhood’s laid-back, bohemian atmosphere.
The air inside was thick with the savory aroma of traditional dishes—ranging from yakitori and karaage to sashimi, edamame, agedashi tofu, and tamagoyaki—accompanied by the lively chatter of locals unwinding after a long day. Over shared plates and cold beers, we soaked in the intimate, authentic setting that makes Tokyo’s dining culture so legendary. It was the perfect capstone to a physically demanding day, especially after all that taiko drumming.
After the dizzying heights and intense energy of Tokyo, we flew south to Kyushu, stepping into a quieter, older side of Japan to visit the provinces of Miyazaki and Kagoshima. The transition itself was seamless: we flew with Japan Airlines, and the flights were fast, clean, and surprisingly affordable. As an added bonus for travelers making this journey, clear skies might even treat you to more aerial views of Mt. Fuji as you head south.
Our first major stop was the spectacular, deep Takachiho Gorge. This location is a true geological wonder, featuring dramatic columnar basalt cliffs that soar hundreds of feet above a turquoise river. Rather than joining the crowds at a well-known, congested viewpoint, we linked up with local outfitter Trailhead Takachiho, who introduced us to packrafting—using portable rubber boats that can be inflated with air and carried deep into remote areas.
We paddled up the gorge to a pristine waterfall, each of us navigating our own small, sturdy craft. The gorge walls closed in around us, the air cooled significantly, and the sound of the outside world completely vanished. Floating beneath the cascading waterfall felt magical—a hidden gem that made each of us feel as though we had discovered something entirely new.
Later, we witnessed the Takachiho Kagura, an ancient Shinto dancing ritual performed late at night at a local shrine. The atmosphere was thick with history and reverence as we watched a series of four distinct dances dedicated to the gods. Gazing at the masked performers, bathed in the soft, flickering light of the shrine, was unforgettable.
Once again, the experience highlighted fascinating contrasts, connecting modern viewers directly to the country’s oldest spiritual traditions. During the performance, a local deity in the form of a boisterous masked dancer even approached me and symbolically "ate my head"—an action locals assured me brings good luck.
The serenity continued the next day at Manai Falls, one of Japan’s most celebrated waterfalls, located along a more accessible section of the Takachiho Gorge. The sight of the water plunging from a dark-green cliff face into the river below is classic Japan. While visitors can stroll alongside the dramatic basalt gorge for an elevated view, renting a rowboat provides the closest and most immersive vantage point.
We later took a ride on the Amaterasu Railway, an open-car scenic train that crosses Japan’s highest railroad bridge at an astonishing height of 345 feet. The sky-high thrills offered epic views of the surrounding valley, presenting a magnificent patchwork of fields and forests. Adding a whimsical touch to the journey, the conductors blew thousands of bubbles into the air around the train, turning the ride into a playful journey through the clouds reminiscent of a Hayao Miyazaki film.
A couple of days later, we arrived at Aoshima Shrine. Situated on a tiny, lush island connected to the mainland by a pedestrian bridge, this vibrant vermilion shrine is famously surrounded by the "Devil’s Washboard"—striking, corrugated basalt rock formations shaped by centuries of crashing waves. Walking through the dense, tropical jungle path to reach the main altar felt like stepping straight into ancient myth.
We paid our respects at the shrine, purifying ourselves at the water pavilion outside before approaching the main hall to bow twice, clap twice, and bow once more in the traditional Shinto manner.
Another highlight in Miyazaki Prefecture took us into the heart of Japanese spirits at Kirishima Shuzo. Their shōchū is legendary, ranking among the best-selling spirits in the world and having even been served at the Oscars. Touring the factory offered a fascinating look at the meticulous production process, from selecting sweet potatoes and rice koji to the final distillation. The scale of production, coupled with exceptionally strict quality control, was mind-blowing, culminating in a tasting of the clear, complex spirit.
Our journey continued with a visit to Sakurajima, one of Japan’s most active volcanoes, which looms majestically over Kagoshima Bay. Constant plumes of ash billowed from its jagged peak, serving as a stark, daily reminder of the raw geothermal power thrumming just beneath the surface of Kyushu.
We took a short ferry ride across the bay, marveling at the rugged, lava-scarred landscape blanketing its base, and visited a local museum to learn more about the region’s geological history. Standing in the shadow of the smoking peak was deeply humbling, perfectly encapsulating the untamed natural beauty of southern Japan.
Following our visit to the volcano, we stopped at the Saraku Sand Bath Hall along the coast south of Kagoshima. This hot sand bath experience was another standout moment of our voyage. Clad in light cotton yukata robes, we stepped into trenches dug on the beach and lay down while attendants swiftly buried us up to our necks in heavy, volcanically-heated sand.
The sensation was immediate and intense, providing a full-body compression that drew out buckets of sweat while we listened to the soothing, rhythmic crash of ocean waves. After about fifteen minutes of this earthy treatment, we emerged feeling remarkably lighter, deeply relaxed, and completely revitalized.
Japan’s culinary landscape proved equally memorable. With Tokyo alone boasting more Michelin-starred restaurants than any other city in the world, the country is undeniably a premier foodie destination. Our itinerary allowed us to go behind the scenes to witness the artistry and dedication behind some of the nation’s finest delicacies.
In Ibusuki City, we returned to the katsuobushi factory tour. Shortly before meeting the CEO, we stepped inside a -50°C freezer where massive dried fish logs are stored. The extreme cold froze the moisture in our noses instantly, and the wet towels provided as props turned solid in mere seconds.
The following day, we dedicated time to the quiet art of green tea. At Wakohen, one of Japan’s largest tea companies, I learned to appreciate the sophistication behind the beverage, sampling fine varieties like light, grassy sencha and receiving a hands-on lesson in roasting and brewing techniques.
I learned that water temperature, steeping time, and harvesting methods all contribute to the final flavor profile, serving as a metaphor for the broader Japanese commitment to patience and precision. I came away with a handmade teapot, which I have continued using to brew my own green tea ever since returning home.
Supported by the Tokyo Convention & Visitors Bureau, the journey was ultimately defined by its striking contrasts—moving effortlessly from the high-speed energy of innovative Tokyo to the quiet, contemplative depths of a simple cup of green tea.
