After months of planning, excitement, and the endless countdown on our phones, our two-week trip to Japan finally began. Victor’s parents flew from Barcelona to London to meet us so that we could all fly to Tokyo together. On a Friday evening after work, we packed up our things, double-checked our passports, and headed to Heathrow for our long-awaited flight east.
The Journey to Tokyo
Our first flight was from London to Beijing, an overnight journey that spanned multiple time zones and built anticipation. We landed around 1:15pm local time, a little dazed but still buzzing, and had a four-hour layover before our second flight. From Beijing, we continued to Tokyo Haneda, arriving at 9:30pm. Even though it was late, Haneda was bright and efficient, calm but full of quiet energy. After immigration, we picked up SIM cards, Suica travel cards, and some yen in cash. (A quick note for anyone visiting soon: due to a shortage of IC chips, Suica and Pasmo cards are temporarily unavailable in most places, though “Welcome Suica” cards can still be purchased at Haneda Airport.)
From the airport, a pre-booked taxi carried us through the city as we watched the lights flash by, highways weaving through high-rises, and vending machines glowing on empty corners. Everything felt orderly yet alive.
We arrived late at Hotel Sunroute Plaza Shinjuku, a simple but comfortable business-style hotel with efficient check-in and spotless rooms. Shinjuku is one of the city’s main transport hubs, busy, central, and connected to almost everywhere. We unpacked the essentials, took the world’s most satisfying shower, and fell straight into bed.
A Gentle Start in the Heart of Tokyo
The next morning, still a little jet-lagged, we headed down for breakfast. The hotel offered a buffet, but this was not your average hotel spread. It was filled with Japanese dishes, grilled fish, rice, miso soup, pickles, and tamagoyaki (Japanese omelette). It was our first taste of the country’s quiet attention to food, even in something as everyday as breakfast.
We took the Yamanote Line from Shinjuku to Harajuku Station, our first proper train journey in Tokyo. The trains were spotless, punctual, and so silent compared to London’s Underground. Our first stop was Meiji Shrine, a serene retreat tucked into a forested enclave in the heart of Tokyo. The path leading up to the shrine felt almost magical, lined with towering trees that created a calm, peaceful atmosphere amid the city’s bustle. Stepping through the torii gate, it was easy to forget the urban landscape just beyond the forest.
One of the most striking features along the approach to the shrine is the rows of giant sake barrels. These barrels are offered annually to the enshrined deities by members of the Meiji Jingu Zenkoku Shuzo Keishinkai, the Meiji Jingu Nationwide Sake Brewers Association, including the Kotokai, which has been making offerings for generations. Other sake brewers from around Japan also participate, wishing to show their deep respect for the souls of Emperor Meiji and Empress Shoken.
That’s because the Meiji Shrine is dedicated to Emperor Meiji and Empress Shoken, whose souls are enshrined here. Emperor Meiji led Japan’s industrial growth and modernisation during the Meiji Era, encouraging various industries and technological development. Empress Shoken, the beloved consort and mother of the nation, is held in equally high esteem for her grace and virtue. Both are revered by the Japanese people for their contributions to Japan’s modernisation and cultural development.
Much of the shrine was rebuilt after being destroyed in World War II air raids. Yet, it retains the traditional Shinto architectural style known as nagare-zukuri, with gently curved roofs and wooden structures that harmonise with the surrounding forest.
The shrine grounds, spanning 70 hectares, were meticulously landscaped with contributions from people across the country, reflecting the emperor’s wish to create a space that blends spiritual reverence with nature.
Next, we visited the Ōta Memorial Museum of Art for the Hiroshige Blue exhibition. Utagawa Hiroshige, one of Japan’s greatest landscape artists, was known for his vivid blues, the pigment bero-ai (Prussian blue) used to depict skies, rivers, and oceans in the 1800s. Seeing his delicate woodblock prints in person was a beautiful introduction to Japan’s art and sense of place.
Harajuku’s Energy
After the museum, we walked to Harajuku, one of Tokyo’s most famous neighbourhoods and the epicentre of youth culture. Historically, Harajuku began as a residential area near the Imperial Palace, but by the 20th century, it had transformed into a hub of fashion, creativity, and subculture. After World War II, it became a gathering place for teenagers and young adults, gradually earning a reputation for eccentric street fashion and experimental style.
Today, Harajuku is a fascinating mix of the old and the new. Takeshita Street, the neighbourhood’s chaotic and colourful heart, is lined with tiny shops selling everything from anime merchandise to the latest streetwear trends. Crowds of teenagers and tourists jostle past crepe stands, photo booths, and themed cafés, all vying for attention in a sensory overload that somehow feels curated rather than chaotic.
Victor’s parents found the noise and crowds a bit overwhelming, so we soon sought a quieter lunch spot at Udon Iroha, a small but popular udon restaurant just a short walk away.
There was a line outside, but we didn’t have to wait too long. The cosy interior was warm and welcoming, filled with the aroma of simmering broth and fresh noodles. I ordered the hot udon with yam in spicy cod roe, a hearty, flavourful combination. The noodles were perfectly chewy, the broth rich and comforting, and the spicy cod roe added a gentle kick that enhanced rather than overwhelmed the dish. Each bite felt satisfying, a reminder that even a simple meal can be elevated with quality ingredients and care. Lunch at Udon Iroha offered the perfect pause between the energetic chaos of Takeshita Street and our next stop.
Beyond Takeshita Street lies Cat Street, a calmer, tree-lined thoroughfare that contrasts sharply with the flamboyance of its neighbour. Here, independent boutiques, minimalist cafés, and quirky galleries reflect the neighbourhood’s more refined, artistic side. Harajuku is not just about fashion; it is a cultural lens into Tokyo’s youth, creativity, and how tradition and innovation coexist.
Walking through Harajuku, it is easy to see why it is so iconic. It is a neighbourhood that celebrates self-expression, constantly evolving yet deeply rooted in the city’s history as a centre for culture and trendsetting.
Evening in Shinjuku
After a full day exploring Harajuku, we returned to Shinjuku, one of Tokyo’s most vibrant and iconic districts. Known as a major commercial and transport hub, Shinjuku is a fascinating blend of towering skyscrapers, bustling streets, neon lights, and lively entertainment areas. Historically, Shinjuku grew rapidly during the post-war period, becoming a centre for business, shopping, and nightlife. Today, it perfectly showcases Tokyo’s ability to combine modern urban energy with pockets of culture and history.
As evening fell, the district came alive. Walking through Kabukicho, the neon-lit entertainment quarter, we were greeted by a maze of narrow alleys packed with restaurants, bars, and tiny shops. The colours, lights, and constant hum of people created an almost cinematic atmosphere. It was easy to see why Shinjuku is often described as Tokyo’s heartbeat.
One of the highlights was Golden Gai, a collection of tiny bars, each with its own character and theme. Most bars seat only a handful of people, creating intimate spaces where locals and visitors mingle. We ducked into one cosy spot, ordered sake-based cocktails, and soaked in the atmosphere, watching as bartenders crafted drinks with care and patrons chatted in quiet corners.
Dinner was at Hibi Hare Bare Shinjuku, a small izakaya we stumbled upon nearby. The food was outstanding: sashimi of shrimp and tuna, smoked tofu, eel, potato salad, and a variety of vegetables, all beautifully presented. Each dish reflected the Japanese attention to detail, balance, and seasonality. After a long day of walking and exploring, the meal felt both comforting and indulgent, a perfect way to end our first full day in Tokyo.
Old Tokyo
Our second day began early with a trip to Asakusa, one of Tokyo’s most historic districts. We took the Shinjuku Line to Higashi-Nihombashi, transferred to the Asakusa Line, and got off at Asakusa Station.
The first stop was Sensō-ji, Tokyo’s oldest temple. Passing through the Kaminarimon Gate beneath its giant red lantern felt like entering another time. The smell of incense filled the air, and behind the main hall stood the smaller Asakusa Shrine, dedicated to the founders of Sensō-ji.
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After the temple, we went in search of breakfast. I had hoped to find a traditional kissaten (old-style coffee house), but the queues were long, so we went to Coffee-kan instead. Their hot cakes, thick, golden, slightly crisp at the edges, were simple but delicious, and the black filter coffee was rich and smooth. Filter coffee is everywhere in Japan, served with quiet precision and no fuss.
We spent the rest of the morning exploring Asakusa’s backstreets, following a loose walking route past Orange Street (literally painted orange), Denpōin-dori (which retains its Edo-period layout), and Hoppy Street, lined with cheerful izakayas. On Nishisando Shopping Street, we stopped to try melon bread from Kagetsudō bakery, soft, sweet, and slightly crisp on top. Later, at Asakusa Unana, we shared unagi yaki onigiri, grilled rice balls topped with eel, one of those tiny, perfect snacks you remember long after.
We ended the walk at the Edo Taitō Traditional Crafts Center, where local artisans’ work was displayed, including ceramics, lacquerware, and textiles made with incredible attention to detail.
For lunch, we ate at Tonkatsu Yutaka, a gem of a restaurant that quickly became one of our favourites. The staff explained how to enjoy tonkatsu properly: first, try it with just salt and mustard (we had algae salt), then with the rich, tangy sauce. Unlike most places that serve only pork, this one offered options like crab, oysters, shrimp, and scallops. I went for the fried scallops, golden, tender, and perfectly cooked, served with shredded cabbage, rice, and lemon.
Sumida River to Stylish Omotesandō
In the afternoon, we took a Tokyo Cruise boat down the Sumida River, boarding at Asakusa Pier. The city unfolded differently from the water, bridges arching overhead, the skyline shifting from old neighbourhoods to glass towers. We disembarked at Hinode Pier, switched to the Yurikamome Line (a driverless train that glides above the bay), and then connected to the Ginza Line for Omotesandō.
Omotesandō is Tokyo’s design and fashion district, often described as the city’s answer to the Champs-Élysées. The wide, tree-lined avenue is filled with flagship stores for some of the world’s biggest brands, all housed in architecturally striking buildings that feel like art pieces themselves. It is a place where design, fashion, and architecture intersect seamlessly. The mood here is calmer than nearby Harajuku, yet equally captivating, polished, elegant, and distinctly modern.
We admired the Prada Aoyama Building, its façade of curved glass bubbles designed by Herzog & de Meuron, and the SunnyHills shop by Kengo Kuma, made entirely of interlocking wooden beams that resemble a woven basket. Both were stunning examples of Japan’s fusion of tradition and modernity.
Beyond the main boulevard, the back streets of Omotesandō reveal a more local and intimate side of the area. Small boutiques, design studios, and minimalist cafés are tucked between quiet residential lanes, creating a peaceful retreat from the busy avenue. Wandering through these side streets offers a glimpse into everyday Tokyo life, where creativity and calm coexist effortlessly.
Victor’s parents decided to head back to the hotel, while we lingered a bit longer. We stopped at Coffees & Doughnuts, exactly what it sounds like, and recharged with caffeine and sugar before heading to Shibuya for the evening.
Shibuya After Dark
At night, Shibuya was electric. We crossed the famous Shibuya Crossing, watched the lights and people move in perfect rhythm, and browsed the chaotic aisles of Don Quijote.
Eventually, we found Mikkeller, a craft beer bar with a relaxed vibe, and settled in for a drink.
Later, Victor’s parents joined us for dinner at 小料理 百けん (Koryori Hyakuken), a small, intimate restaurant known for its thoughtful dishes and impressive selection of sake. Inside, there are six seats at the counter, two four-seater tables, and one two-seater table, creating a cosy and personal atmosphere. The lighting is soft, the pace unhurried, and the space filled with quiet conversation.
The highlight was the seared marinated mackerel, grilled right in front of us, smoky, fatty, and delicious. We also shared a smoked cheese platter and a few small plates designed to pair with sake. The staff clearly loved what they did, recommending bottles and dishes with genuine enthusiasm.
After dinner, Victor’s parents went back, and we finished the night with cocktails at Bar Composition, a quiet spot near our hotel.
Reflections
By the end of our first two days, Japan already felt like a place of balance, a dance between old and new, energy and stillness. We had walked through sacred shrines, modern design temples, and neon-lit alleys, and somehow it all felt connected. Tokyo was everything we imagined and more: vibrant, meticulous, surprising, and endlessly fascinating.
Which part of Tokyo would you explore first?
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