Japan is ‘open’ once again
One traveler was grateful to find country ready to welcome visitors after a 2½ year closure
It didn’t feel like we were going almost 200 mph. So smooth, so quiet. None of the clackety-clack you expect on a train.
This, of course, wasn’t just any train. It was one of Japan’s Shinkansen bullet trains, and if you’re looking for a relaxing, scenic way to cover a lot of ground in a hurry, look no further. Throw in heated toilet seats and $3 beers and you might be a little sad to reach your destination.
Japan is “open” once again, having dropped some of Southeast Asia’s toughest pandemic-related travel restrictions in October. In 2019, the year before COVID-19, tourism pumped more than $350 billion into the economy; from March 2020 until September 2022, it virtually dried up.
Historically, foreigners were the last thing Japan wanted. The country was largely closed to the outside world until the 1850s, when the West forced it to open. Less than a century later, during WWII, Japan became one of our mortal enemies.
Now, it’s among our strongest allies. And it’s a fascinating place to resume seeing the world as travel continues to loosen.
Make no mistake, Japan is not just another country — it’s so much more than sushi, sake and samurai. Online videos and blogs quip, “Japan is a different planet.” A place where kids stay after school to clean their classrooms, manhole covers are works of art and pedestrians refuse to cross against the light even if there’s no traffic.
After a 2½-year visitor drought, the country is thirsty for tourists. Did I mention the $3 beers?
After a 14-hour flight from New York, the hassle-light reception at Tokyo’s Narita International was welcome. COVID-related guidelines are minimal, and a userfriendly app makes immigration and customs a breeze. The airport was rich with cordial, multi-lingual support staff. In downtown Tokyo, public ambassadors with information paddles were eager to give directions and answer questions.
I’ve been fortunate enough to visit more than 50 countries, and the Japanese are among the most helpful folks yet. Ordinary citizens didn’t just point the way when they saw me hunting for a track in a station; they actually walked me to the right spot. Restaurant staff repeatedly chased after me to say thanks.
Japan’s reputation for being among the cleanest countries is well-deserved. Good luck finding trash on the ground or a trash receptacle. Most of Tokyo’s public trash cans were removed after a 1995 sarin gas attack for fear the bins could hide terrorist bombs or weapons. Littering can carry heavy penalties. Getting a coffee to-go can mean carrying around an empty cup for a while.
Japan has some of the world’s lowest crime rates, and even petty theft is rare. People feel comfortable leaving possessions unattended in public: charging cell phones, backpacks, unlocked bikes. Subway stations have umbrellas you can borrow on a rainy day and return later.
Sophisticated technology is everywhere, from motion-activated escalators to futuristic capsule hotels. An infatuation with anime still permeates the culture; characters even pop up in TV news and weather reports. Then there are the space-age toilets: Some have a sink on top of the tank that recycles wash water; others are self-cleaning, spray deodorizer and play music. My hotel toilet had so many buttons and gizmos it took forever to figure out the basic flush mechanism.
In Tokyo, I stayed in the Kabukicho section of the Shinjuku district, perfect for walking by day: pedestrian streets, spacious gardens and tall buildings with 360-degree observation decks.
At night, Kabukicho changes. On my first evening, I made the mistake of popping into what looked like a simple hole-in-thewall bar. After ordering a whiskey,
I realized it was a different kind of establishment. Turns out “bunny bars” are a thing in Japan.
Waitresses wore Playboy bunny-like outfits and there was a cover of 3,000 yen (about $23). I apparently had my own bunny, who proceeded to practice her English on me until I quickly settled the bill. On the tab and lost in translation: I’d bought her a drink.
Then it was back out into the fray of Kabukicho, where, as a gray-haired Westerner, I really stood out. Walking to the hotel, I was constantly badgered by men insisting they had just the right female, or male, companion for the night.
Countless guidebooks and websites can suggest the top sights in Tokyo, but one of my favorites was the Yushukan military museum. Displays include a WWII Zero fighter and a kaiten, a human suicide torpedo also used in
WWII. The museum does a masterful job of chronicling Japan’s complicated history of wars. There’s even a Hampton Roads reference: In 1852, Commodore Matthew Perry’s fleet sailed from Norfolk with the goal of forcing Japan to open its ports to trade with the U.S.
And did you know that, in Japan, the attack on
Pearl Harbor came on Dec. 8, 1941, not the 7th?
OK, so the train from Hiroshima to Kyoto topped out at “only” 186 mph. As a frame of reference, a 747 jetliner usually takes off at around 185 mph. Other bullet trains hit 199 mph, or 320 kilometers an hour — the speed limit for the Shinkansen.
There are faster passenger trains — a handful in Europe and China — but the Shinkansen has nearly 1,800 miles of high-speed track. Amtrak peaks at 150 mph, but only on a 50-mile stretch of the Northeast Corridor.
I love Amtrak and take it every chance I get, but it’s a major comedown from the Shinkansen — and not just because of the speed. A recent trip reminded me why: unrelentingly gray inside, noisy passengers (even in the quiet car) and $8 beers.
Japan Rail, which operates the bullet trains, has reasonably priced unlimited-use passes. I treated myself to a seven-day, first-class pass ($314; the regular pass was $236). Trains usually have two first-class cars, which were often almost empty while the others were crowded. Several times I had the car all to myself, which meant it was OK to unmask. Japan’s latest rules, which didn’t seem to be enforced: Wear a mask if you’re within 6 feet of someone.
The bullet trains are models of efficiency. Each one I took was on time, to the minute. Doors between cars open automatically. An attendant with a snack and beverage cart rolls by regularly. The interiors are stylish, the bathrooms spacious. And I did mention the heated toilet seats, right?
The day I left for Hiroshima there were almost 30 bullet trains serving the route. The rail pass, also good for numerous subway lines in Tokyo, allows reserved seats at no extra charge. A tip: If traveling south from Tokyo, get a right-side window for an extended view of Mount Fuji, weather permitting; if heading north to Tokyo, grab one on the left.
While Japan might be best known for sprawling Tokyo and its sensory overload, the train showcases the country’s natural beauty and offers a glimpse of rural life. Charming gabled, tile roofs on homes small and large. Intimate cemeteries carved into hillsides. Vintage farm tractors.
Legendary for being golfcrazy, Japan has an abundance of practice facilities with high nets all around. Once, three were visible while rolling toward Osaka. As for baseball, you’d think it would’ve been out of season when I visited just before Christmas, yet there was a youth league game at 9 a.m. on a Sunday — in 30-degree weather.
If you’re not moved by visiting Hiroshima, you don’t have a pulse. Getting off the train and seeing a “Welcome to Hiroshima” sign — in English — stirred me in a way I hadn’t anticipated.
I’d read up on the city and its history, including John Hersey’s Pulitzer Prize-winning book, “Hiroshima.” On the ride down, I discovered more fascinating details about the before and after through an extensive account of the Manhattan Project on a U.S. government website. For example, a successful first test in New Mexico had physicists celebrating by sharing a bottle of whiskey — until the reality of what they’d created sank in.
Walking to the iconic Genbaku Dome, it’s hard to believe that 77 years ago this sleek city of skyscrapers and high-end stores was ashes and cinders.
The A-bomb dome, as it’s known even on signs here, and peace park across the Motoyasu River are among the few reminders you’ll find in Hiroshima of Aug. 6, 1945.
The dome, originally an exhibition hall, was the only structure in the target area left standing after “Little Boy” was detonated 500 feet almost directly overhead. This symbol of mass destruction is now called the Hiroshima Peace Memorial.
As an American, walking around the site, what are you to think? And what are the locals thinking about you?
I was a teary-eyed stew of emotions. Heartbroken. Angry. A little guilty, even. Almost sick to my stomach, being reminded how horrible humans can be to one another. Was it necessary? Maybe, maybe not. That debate will outlive us all. I wondered whether a visit by Vladimir Putin and Kim Jong-un might quiet their nuclear saber-rattling. Doubtful.
The reflective moment was interrupted by a smiling young Japanese woman. As her mother stood silently by, she asked questions about my visit and background — then offered a Jehovah’s Witness card. It felt inappropriate and appropriate at the same time.
On the return trip, I stopped in Kyoto, one of Japan’s best-preserved cities. Although firebombed during the war, much of its old town survived. For all the destruction of those raids, Kyoto also had a little luck going for it: The city was on the short list when the U.S. was considering targets for the A-bombs but was removed late in the planning because of its cultural significance.
Kyoto has an abundance of kominka houses, the distinctive wood homes with sweeping roofs. Through Airbnb, I found a traditional room with rice paper doors and matted flooring — no shoes allowed. The low beams got me once early, and I spent the rest of the stay ducking instinctively whenever I moved around.
In Kyoto, I experienced the divine Wagyu beef, so heavily marbled it can look more white than red. The chef sliced it thin, salt and peppered it, and slid the plate to me. With a pair of tongs, I cooked the meat on a small flame grill. The fat quickly melts away at low temperatures, giving the steak a buttery flavor.
Basic Wagyu goes for around $10 an ounce. In Hiroshima and Tokyo, I searched for kobe, a highend style of Wagyu, but steakhouses serving it were booked, sometimes weeks in advance.
Another food first: okonomiyaki, which translates roughly to “how you like.” The cabbage, flour and egg-based mound can include whatever meats and vegetables you want. It finishes cooking on a griddle at your table. Delicious, but I never came close to finishing the two I tried.
The capsule hotels seem right out of a sci-fi flick. The tube-shaped sleeping pods are an inexpensive and convenient option — if you’re not claustrophobic. Think of a hostel, only with a shred more privacy.
Both of the capsules I booked were in airports. The first, called Nine Hours Narita, was a barebones bed for $26. A bit spooky-looking with soft orangish lighting, the pods are stacked honeycomb-style, two levels built into a wall. Quarters are tight but surprisingly comfortable and quiet. Silence is required in the capsule area; food and drink are prohibited.
The pods are organized in male- and female-only sections. At check-in, you’re given a bath towel, slippers, gown and toothbrush. Belongings are stored in a personal locker. The communal bathrooms and showers were ultraclean.
At Tokyo Haneda, I upgraded to a First
Cabin capsule. Cost: $55. This pod was roomier, included a TV (earphones required), and allowed you to eat and drink in your compartment. An adjoining common area featured several vending machines — including one for beer. First Cabin also had a 24-hour pool spa. A warm soak before a long flight is a pleasant perk.
And the location was priceless: Climb out of bed and you’re already in the airport, ready to roll.
You’d be hard-pressed to find a country and culture that does a better job of blending the old with the new. Welcome back, Japan.