“I’ll be in Tokyo for work for a week. Would you come?” He asked. (What a question…)
“Let me research a bit”. I respond with an inner calmness equal to that of a dog hearing the word “Walk”. (OBVIOUSLY was the honest reply.)

I believe that sometimes the best thing you can do is say, “Yes, I’ll do it,” before thinking about the how and the consequences. The most significant experiences always start like this. So I simply said yes. And just like that, mid July, peak season for my work, I left for Japan.

“I’ll be working, and I won’t have much time during the day.” He explained upfront, which, to be honest, I appreciated and also secretly wanted. When one goes to a new place, especially one so far away, the goal is to try and see everything. With a travel partner, especially someone you don’t know very well, you might make compromises and miss out on experiences for the sake of the group.

“By the way, you don’t have to worry about the accommodation cost in Tokyo…” he added.

As if I hadn’t already opened my empty suitcase on the bed before even looking for tickets. That sentence, for me, someone who’s been compulsively stuck in her masculine energy for 15 years, wasn’t just a convenience—it was a rare and extraordinary surprise.

I think to myself: No man has ever treated me like this. Literally. Usually, I’m the one who makes things easier. And sometimes, I’m the one who sacrifices my needs in order not to cause inconvenience to the other person. The Instagram algorithm has, of course, fully grasped this long before I did. It tortures me daily with reels from hyper-manic content creators, confidently telling me—backed by what must be at least ten PhDs—how wrongly I ‘ve lived my life so far. I have believed it.

But to meet a man who gives and doesn’t get too comfortable taking? Honestly, it felt like a soothing balm after this long journey through the universe’s so-called “valuable” and what now feels like endless life lessons. For this small shift in perspective alone, I’m grateful. And for the dream trip, of course.

This was the spark. A tall, lean German guy, with good manners and the seriousness of expressions that his law studies have taught him. Well, his German heritage too.. We had spent three sunny days in Milan back in March, so I already had a small experience of traveling with him and that was enough to know that, yes, this is someone you can go to such a place with.

Whether that story continued is insignificant. Life is never simple, and this post isn’t about gossip. Some people come into our lives and show us so much in such a short time, that their presence becomes more valuable than that of many who stay, usually doing nothing for years.

Naturally, someone might ask, “Then what solo travel did you do?” Patience. I said he invited me to Tokyo. So, I ask myself, “Am I really flying all the way there and not visiting Kyoto?” So, I booked five days earlier—hence the solo part.

The classic question I got about this endeavor was whether traveling as a woman, alone, for the first time, especially to such a distant destination with a such a different culture and language, was easy. It is 2024. Of course it is. The truth is that Japan always was a very safe destination overall and especially for women, though I’m not sure I’d say the same for other places. It’s true that outside hotels, few people speak English. However, today’s technology—especially with the advent of Artificial Intelligence—has made even the barrier of an entirely unreadable for us language, solvable with a simple photo to ChatGPT and the question, “What does this say?” My first time using it had to be on the Japanese Toto toilets…

The trip to Kyoto.

I won’t lie. The journey from Greece was long since there’s no direct flight from Athens to Tokyo. Among all the options I had for a layover to see a new place, I chose Abu Dhabi—mainly because I don’t think I’d ever make a trip there otherwise. So, it was a chance to experience it, and 9 hours in 45-degree Celsius heat were definitely enough.

The next leg was 11 hours to Tokyo, but it was an overnight flight, so it passed relatively easily (thank goodness for in-flight Internet). Upon arriving at Narita Airport in Tokyo, you need to take either a train or, in my case, a bus to the central station (Tokyo Station), where trains depart for the rest of the country.

I was tired but excited. After indulging in a much-needed Caramel Frappuccino (because in Japan, Starbucks is as common as finding an overflowing trash bin in Greece), it was time for the train. Or rather, what a train! The Shinkansen (a network of high-speed railway lines in Japan), or bullet train, is definitely the most impressive train I’ve travelled with. A beautiful white aerodynamic design with plenty of space inside. Some trains reach a top speed of 320 km/h, yet somehow, when inside, you don’t even notice it.

The cultural immersion in Japan had begun.

My first evening.

I arrived in Kyoto in just 2 hours and 50 minutes. For reference, the same distance by car is more than 6 hours. From the station, it was a quick taxi ride to my hotel. A beautiful place, my home for the next 5 days. The lobby was an old traditional house. Behind it stood a multi-story building with guest rooms and of course an “Onsen“, because Japan…

Fighting off the feeling of exhaustion, I was fueled by the excitement of seeing and tasting everything. The added charm of my first ride with Japanese taxis, automatic doors and seats covered with lace doilies, had really set the mood. I headed out for dinner.

I had done my research food-wise. In Kyoto, if there’s one thing you must try, it’s a “Kaiseki” meal. A series of small dishes where each dish is a flavor bomb. You can have it as a lunch (it tends to be cheaper), or proper dinner. It is their equivalent of “haute cuisine” and it is definitely worth the price. If I remember well, I paid something like 60€, but that also depends on the place. A small note, in some places. unless you say stop, the little plates just keep coming. There were several restaurant suggestions online but luckily for me, the receptionist at the hotel recommended a place I’d never have found on my own. The simplicity of the dishes, the sophistication of the flavor combinations, the lightness of Japanese cuisine… The chef had done his magic. I can safely say I had the best meal of my entire stay in Kyoto there. Dare I say it the best in my Japan trip. With the exception maybe, of that excellent medium rare Wagyu beef, in Tokyo Intercontinental hotel’s fancy teppanyaki restaurant. It will get the mention it deserves in a separate Tokyo post.

The kaiseki place was called Tatsumura 725 and this first experience will always be in my heart.

(Click to enlarge and see descriptions)

It was a very small restaurant, where the chef was also the owner. Two more people worked behind the bar, assisting him; only one of them spoke some broken English. Around the bar, about six Japanese people, couples, were seated. The place was so small that everyone ended up talking to one another, laughing, and, from what I could gather, commenting on the food.

Not long after I entered—alone and intrigued by this hidden spot—I could sense their curiosity building. My mere presence seemed to spark their interest. As I asked about each dish, trying to commit their names and ingredients to memory, I realized that everyone was observing my reactions with the arrival of every little plate. They were eager, even anxious, to see if I would like the food. I felt like a judge on MasterChef, as though their entire culture was waiting to be validated by this curious foreign woman dining solo at the bar of their favorite spot.

And then, we became friends. Food, smiles, and maybe a bit of alcohol—that’s all it takes to connect, at least in my culture, but as it seems, theirs too. The rest was taken care of by technology. I explained where I was from and entertained them with my stories until the end of their dinner. They left happy and tipsy—the chef probably poured a little more sake than usual that day—and I walked away with my first Japanese expression: “So, so, so,” which means “Yes, yes, yes.”

(Of course).

It felt like the universe was speaking to me. I was exactly where I was meant to be.

In Japan, don’t tip. They don’t want it. You’re borderline offending them, even though they understand that as a foreigner, you probably don’t know. The price they charge is what they believe their service is worth. And work there is considered an honor.

I made the mistake. I wasn’t sure, so I asked first. The language barrier didn’t help; I understood something along the lines of “It’s not necessary,” but my European mindset decided to leave a €5 tip anyway. The result? I walked away with an umbrella because they had to give me something in return. In short, they didn’t accept the tip. Thankfully, they didn’t— it had started raining.

I wanted to highlight this first meal because it encapsulated a large dose of Japanese culture within just three hours. The empty, damp but impeccably clean narrow alleyways; the gradual quiet as I walked from the bustling area around my hotel toward the restaurant; the wooden traditional buildings with their closed doors; and the anticipation of possibly spotting authentic geishas finishing their shifts in Gion district. The only sounds were my footsteps and the voice of the woman from Google Maps.

I wondered if it was wise to walk alone in the dark of a foreign city, if my newfound ease—rooted in internet advice—was perhaps naive. But as the hours passed, I found myself sinking deeper into a second reality, that of a country I admittedly knew little about, yet whose culture seemed to align with my temperament more than any other place I had visited so far. Dare I say, even more than my own country.

Their politeness, their respect for one another, their choreography-like movements. The silence even in massive cities and the belief that following rules is vital for the collective good. The cleanliness both indoors and out in a country with no trash cans. The pride in their immense culture, the beauty of the landscape, the organization, the technology. I fell in love.

I had been there for half a day and already knew that this trip wouldn’t just be about sightseeing—it would be a life-changing experience.

Five unforgettable days in a small selection of photos.

I wanted to see and taste everything. I walked 20,000 steps a day and visited 2-3 places daily—like a madwoman. I won’t describe them, as they’re well-known and all over the internet. Instead, I’ll share some photos and, at the bottom of this post, my Kyoto Google map with all the places I visited, stayed or ate at.

What I want to leave here is mostly a written memory of my own experience and feelings, so I can return to it whenever I need to…

During this short amount of time I saw palaces and castles, shrines, and lush nature. Colorful pagodas and buildings adorned with gold leaf. I wandered through Zen gardens, vast bamboo forests, and along rivers and lakes. I noticed the contrast between the modern city and its coexistence with the old—something I am very familiar with.

I witnessed scenes of everyday life, but with a uniquely Japanese touch. Here, people wear their traditional costumes and go out as if it’s completely normal. I wish we still had this in Greece too.

Japan is also the cleanest place I have ever been. The streets are impeccably spotless—not even a single leaf on the ground—even in the smallest alleys. Everything felt like a perfectly crafted mock-up.

I think the German would have killed me with all this running around I ended up doing. Going solo was definitely the better choice, I thought. I walked, took buses, taxis, and trains. The more I moved around with purpose, the more comfortable I became.

One thing I truly appreciate about solo travel is that there’s no one to do it for you. You have to check the map, make the decisions, catch public transport, carry your things, stay alert, and be brave. It keeps you on your toes, but at the same time, it helps you quickly settle into a new place. I was amazed with how confidently I was moving around.

This freedom also encourages experimentation. I wanted to try all sorts of street food along the way. Plus there was no time to sit down. During the day I found no need to go to a proper restaurant. One of the most time consuming things is to hunt for reviews for food options in areas you don’t know. Plus the added stress of getting there on time. This assumes they’d even accept the “table for one” part. That challenge was saved for the evenings. Also, especially when the street food is this good and clean, there is no question, you just dive in.

I ate raw fish at open markets without hesitation, indulged in matcha-flavored treats, fried sweet potatoes with sugar, crab skewers, pressed shrimp on rice crackers, tempura omelets, and “Taiyaki”, that sweet, fish-shaped pastry filled with red bean paste—plus so much more. Every bite seemed better than the last.

But a word of caution: In Japan, it’s considered highly rude to walk while eating or drinking. Good manners dictate that you should stand near the place where you bought your food, finish it, and only then move on. For me, this takes away half the joy of street food, but breaking this rule will definitely earn you some side-eye. You’ll feel a bit like you’ve just stepped out of the third world.

Well, not just because of that…

An important cultural experience. Tea ceremony with Yukiko san.

(Click the link above for more details)

“Wa, Kei, Sei, Jaku”

和敬清寂 (わけいせいじゃく)

Harmony, Respect, Purity, Tranquility.

The art of the tea ceremony in Japan is a truly fascinating experience. Yukiko-san greeted me with a bow as she opened the door, then showed me where to leave my shoes. She led me to join two other participants, a mother and daughter from France, who were also taking the class that day. Together, we would learn to make matcha tea, while also immersing ourselves in the etiquette of the tea ceremony—the way it is served, the phrases to use, the philosophy behind it, and even how to drink it, complete with a “slurp” at the end to show appreciation for the tea.

The class took place at Wak Japan, a beautifully preserved traditional townhouse, now used for cultural lessons.

The Japanese tea ceremony, known as Chanoyu (茶の湯) or Chadō/Sadō, represents the essence of Japanese culture. Interestingly, anything ending with -dō reflects a ceremonial discipline—like Ju-dō or Karate-dō. At the heart of the tea ceremony is the concept of observing the temae (host). Guests are expected to silently watch the host’s movements during the tea-making process. Every gesture is graceful, deliberate, and waste-free, creating a sense of harmony in the room. Even the slightest sounds, such as the whisk mixing the tea, contribute to the tranquil atmosphere.

Matcha tea is served in handleless bowls, and before drinking the unsweetened tea, guests are offered a small sweet to balance the flavors. The appreciation for detail, grace, and ritual is unparalleled.

What stood out to me, however, was not just Yukiko-san’s graceful movements, almost choreographed as she floated silently around the room, but the philosophy that underpins it all: an appreciation for slowness, calm, and silence. These qualities, along with the four essential principles of the tea ceremony—Wa (harmony), Kei (respect), Sei (purity), and Jaku (tranquility)—are, I now realize, at the very core of Japanese culture.

“Through the darkness of her thoughts, she comes alive, finding light where shadows dared to linger…”

That was my Instagram caption, under my favourite photo from this Kyoto trip, now the cover photo for this post. Light is what I got back with me.

Japan is such an important place, it is impossible to cover everything here. What I got in those five days in Kyoto, most of it, is not in photos, nor can I describe it in writing. It is embedded in my new way of seeing the world. What a gift. I now understand why so many people return from there in “cultural shock”. I get it now. It also changed me in many ways even though it was just a taster. The Japan chapter has only just begun for me and I can’t wait to go back and explore all that this country has to offer.

Another chapter that opened with this trip is of course traveling solo. The sensation of a hero that you get is hugely empowering and fulfilling. The only downside I would mention about traveling solo is actually eating alone at a restaurant. It can be melancholic only because I love sharing. In this trip I balanced that with sharing all of this experience in stories on Instagram. I am not sure if it was my obvious excitement or the place itself but the engagement of people was so strong that I was actually feeling I was traveling with a great company! People would ask: “Where are we going today?” It was a perfect combination. Doing whatever I decided and also sharing and commenting with friends. One of the good sides of social media.

Speaking of eating solo, I had a similar experience in Rome. Although visiting places and dining alone there wasn’t part of a true solo trip—it was more due to circumstance, as I was visiting a busy friend. Even though I was surrounded by Italy’s incredible art, food, and culture, compared to Japan, I found it harder to navigate the solitude. Italians, much like us Greeks, are loud, vibrant, and deeply connected within their social circles. Maybe it’s exactly that intense expressiveness that amplifies the sense of isolation when solo. Sitting alone at a table while surrounded by loud, happy groups or a passionately engaged couple can intensify that feeling.

In Japan, it’s different. People are quieter and avoid attention, so the contrast feels much smaller. And, let’s be honest—loneliness hits differently when paired with a glass of Chianti…

I must say however, the Japanese are very open, friendly. I am not sure whether it was because of my different appearance or the situation itself, someone always struck up a conversation with me, in whatever way they could—whether they spoke English or not, often using their phone to translate. The fact that I had come so far on my own seemed to shock them a bit. Like a character from a literary tale of another era, they looked at me as though I had just stepped off a wooden ship, the tragic consequence of some violent displacement or some other unfathomable story. A reaction you wouldn’t expect in a city overrun by tourists.

I believe the fact that I was a woman, traveling alone, had something to do with it. Japan, being a somewhat patriarchal society, might have made them feel like they needed to help me, show interest, or maybe ensure I was enjoying their beloved homeland. They didn’t know much about Greece, but they did know about its history. And the Olympics. That was enough to create a connection of mutual respect between people who are equally proud of their heritage.

These brief exchanges gave me a different kind of nourishment—another building block of confidence in the significance of what I was doing. The realization that when you can manage on your own, you can manage anything. For years, I had taken that for granted. But at the other end of the world, you filter things differently. Only the important remains.

For the first time, my deeply wounded self-confidence wasn’t entirely dead. For the first time in years, I felt proud. And that, I owe to Japan…

You can find my Kyoto map here.

Enjoy and thank you for taking the time to read. <3