I Went to Tokyo for Miyu,
and Remembered the People, Too

The reason for this trip to Tokyo was Kano Miyu’s fan meeting in Shibuya on March 7. Flying somewhere for a single performance is no longer unfamiliar to me, but that does not make every trip the same. Even when I travel to the same city to see the same singer, the departure time, the neighborhood I stay in, and the people I meet along the way are different.

This time I went alone. My priority was to attend both sessions of Miyu’s fan meeting before coming home; the rest of the time I would fill by walking around Tokyo. I knew my destination, but I had not planned every moment of the days that would take me there.

From the office to the airport, into the first night

I left on the night of March 4. I worked as usual during the day, then took the subway from Euljiro 1-ga Station toward Incheon Airport after work. It was also a way of saving annual leave. At the end of an ordinary day in the office, I was going to the airport instead of home. It felt different from clearing an entire day to begin a journey.

I stood with my suitcase among the evening commuters, changed to the Airport Railroad, and watched that day’s routine turn into an overnight flight. My flight was Asiana Airlines OZ178, departing Incheon Airport Terminal 2 at 9:30 p.m. and arriving at Haneda Airport Terminal 3 at 11:25 p.m. I had not booked a city hotel for that late arrival. I would spend the night at Haneda, go into Tokyo in the morning, and stay one night each at Kankokukan in Ikebukuro and Vessel Inn in Asakusa.

March 4 to 7 made four calendar days, but only two nights in hotels: the first night belonged to the airport. That gave the trip its slightly unusual shape of four days and two hotel nights. On the last day, I had to fly home that evening after the fan meeting. Weekend fares were too high to book my usual leisurely return the following day, so I arranged the journey around attending both sessions that mattered to me.

The stories that found me on the way to Miyu

While planning, I had first seen the transport and accommodation leading up to the fan meeting. Looking back afterward, the conversations in between remained as vivid as the itinerary: Duhan from Ankara, Turkey, in the seat beside mine; a member of staff at Haneda’s tourist information center who, like me, came from Daegu; someone I spoke with briefly in an Ikebukuro park. Duhan and I did not simply part at the airport. We met again in Shibuya the following day and had dinner.

I had set out alone, but these days were not filled entirely with solitude. Other people’s stories slipped into the spaces between the destinations I had chosen. From beginning to end, it remained a journey to see Miyu. While waiting for her stage, though, I spent a night at Haneda, walked through Ikebukuro’s lanes, and crossed to Asakusa on the Sakura Tram.

In Shibuya I stopped before a scene I unexpectedly recognized from a music video; outside Harajuku Station, an earlier trip came back to me. I had arranged a few days around a fan meeting, and those days held quite a few scenes I could never have anticipated. I want to follow them in order, starting with the evening I left.

This Tokyo trip began with a weekday evening journey straight from work to the airport. I wanted to save as much annual leave as possible. I worked my normal day, then picked up my suitcase and headed directly to Incheon Airport when it was time to leave. The trip itself was short, but departing immediately after a workday is more efficient than one might expect: I still had the whole daytime available.

I started from Euljiro 1-ga Station in central Seoul, boarding Subway Line 2 around six. The train was fairly crowded with commuters, though I also noticed other people carrying suitcases toward the airport. People setting out on a journey have a particular air about them.

It was an ordinary trip home from work, yet the airport as my destination made it feel subtly different. My flight departed at 9:30 p.m. That seemed to leave plenty of time, but getting to an airport always has its uncertainties. A delayed train or an unexpected route through the terminal could upset the plan, so I felt easier moving as soon as I could.

That was why I had decided to go directly after work. I changed to the Airport Railroad at Hongik University Station and continued to Incheon Airport. From Hongik University, the airport train makes a relatively comfortable journey, even with a suitcase. After about an hour, I arrived at Terminal 2.

Asiana Airlines flight OZ178

I was flying with Asiana Airlines on one of the routes from Incheon to Tokyo Haneda. Haneda is relatively close to central Tokyo, making it convenient for a visit to the city. With a night flight in particular, the onward journey after arriving need not add too much travel time. I reached Incheon Terminal 2 with more time to spare than I had expected. There was still room before check-in, so I walked around the terminal for a while. An airport at night has a different atmosphere from daytime: quiet overall, yet with a steady movement of people setting off on their travels.

A little confusion at the self bag drop

I had a bag to check, so after checking in myself I tried to use the self bag drop. Self-service check-in and bag drop are common in Terminal 2, and I followed the signs to Zone G. There I encountered something I had not expected. At that late hour, the self bag drop had already closed.

The screen said that operating hours had ended, but there was no separate indication of where I should go next. It could be disconcerting for someone using it for the first time. I looked around, then asked a nearby staff member and was directed to counter H. On reaching H, however, I was told to go to counter J.

In the end, I moved between several counters before checking my bag. It was hardly a major problem, but I thought clearer directions to H at the start would have made things easier. The bag-drop machines displayed only the closure notice, which could make the route confusing for a first-time user.

Through departure formalities

Once my bag was checked, the departure process went relatively quickly. Beyond immigration, people were still waiting in the duty-free area for late flights. I had no particular duty-free shopping planned. With time before boarding, I decided to walk around the airport a little longer instead of going straight to my gate. Only after handing over my luggage and finishing the formalities could I really look around at ease.

Time to spare after check-in

Even after checking in with the airline, I still had quite a while before boarding. The flight departed at 9:30 p.m., but I had chosen to arrive comfortably early in case something unexpected happened on the way. In fact, the movements between counters when I tried to use the self bag drop made that seem a reasonable choice. I could have gone directly through departures, but there was no reason to rush. Incheon Terminal 2 is spacious, with enough shops to make it a pleasant place to pass some time.

Rather than entering departures immediately, I decided to look around the airport slowly. Around the departure hall were plenty of shops aimed at travelers, from travel accessories to small souvenirs and miscellaneous goods. I occasionally saw people buying something they needed just before leaving. Perhaps because they were in an airport, these stores felt a little different from those in an ordinary shopping mall.

TRAVEL MATE & BOOK STORE

As I wandered through the terminal, a shop called TRAVEL MATE & BOOK STORE caught my eye. As its name suggested, it sold books alongside travel supplies: the familiar airport accessories shop combined with a bookstore. Inside were all kinds of items for a journey. I saw suitcases, smaller things such as neck pillows and pouches, and simple souvenirs and other goods. The selection seemed centered on things someone might need while traveling, just as one would expect at an airport.

Several travel bags and suitcases were on display, and I imagined that someone making last-minute preparations could buy what they needed there. Sometimes it is only when rearranging luggage at the airport that a missing item comes to light, so the existence of such a shop made sense. One side also contained a small book section, with travel books, magazines, and things to read casually while waiting. It was hardly a large bookshop, but there was enough to browse for a while at the airport.

A small incident in the shop

I liked the atmosphere of the book section and took a photograph inside. When writing a travel journal, I often record airport interiors and the feel of a shop; the mood at the beginning of a journey can be particularly useful when I write later. Immediately afterward, however, a member of staff approached and asked me not to take pictures.

Apparently photography inside was restricted. Being an airport shop did not necessarily mean photographs were freely allowed. It was no serious incident, but receiving that instruction just as the journey began did leave me feeling a little awkward.

The start of a trip at an airport is usually full of anticipation, and for a moment that mood was interrupted. Still, the shop might have its own rules, so I took no more photographs. After a brief look around, I returned to the terminal and headed toward the gates. It was gradually becoming time to go through departure immigration.

Beyond immigration, time in the duty-free area

After departure immigration, the route naturally leads into the duty-free area. Terminal 2’s departure route was fairly straightforward, and I entered without any particularly complicated steps. The airport seems to change a little once immigration is behind me.

Departure now feels certain, and the time spent inside starts to become part of the journey itself. On this occasion I still had plenty of time before boarding. I often arrive at airports with relatively little time to spare, hurry through check-in and departures, and go straight to the gate.

That rarely leaves room to explore duty-free at leisure. This time, though, the formalities had been unhurried, so I could take a slower walk. Shops I normally failed to notice began to emerge one by one. Even when I travel frequently, opportunities to look around an airport properly are fewer than one might imagine.

A departure-area bookshop: Kyungin Books (K BOOKS)

Walking slowly through duty-free, I noticed a shop marked BOOK STORE. It was a small bookshop inside the departure area. Closer up, I saw that it was operated by Kyungin Books, or K BOOKS. It stands on the third floor of Incheon Airport Terminal 2’s duty-free area, near gates 253 and 254.

Its position makes it a convenient place to stop shortly before leaving the country. Besides books, the shelves held newspapers and magazines. As an airport bookshop, it did not have the breadth of a large bookstore, but appeared to concentrate on books and magazines suitable for light reading during a journey.

There were also stationery items, small miscellaneous goods, and some supplies for travelers. In keeping with its airport setting, it seemed to carry travel products such as SIM cards too. The shop was not large, but it was enough for a quick visit before boarding. I thought it might be especially practical for someone facing a long flight and looking for something to read on board.

Another small space within the airport

Because I usually rush through check-in and departure formalities on arrival, shops like this rarely catch my attention. Most of the time, boarding is close enough that I have little opportunity to look around. On this journey I had arrived a little earlier, and departure procedures had also gone relatively quickly, giving me time to walk through duty-free at ease. Spaces I would normally pass began to register naturally.

This bookshop was not necessarily somewhere to linger for a long time: it was small, and its selection was simple in the way of airport shops. Yet that did not make it meaningless. I bought no books that day, only looked briefly around before resuming the walk to my gate. Even so, visiting a little place like this just before departure was a pleasant experience. Once again I felt how many different sides an airport reveals if I give myself a little time to walk through it.

Boarding at gate 264, Incheon Airport Terminal 2

After my unhurried walk through duty-free, I headed toward the gate. This flight left from gate 264, deeper inside Terminal 2’s departure area, a short walk along the duty-free shops. There were still plenty of people moving through the airport, but perhaps because these were night departures, the overall mood felt quieter than during the day. Travelers waited to board in a relatively subdued atmosphere.

When I reached the gate, passengers were already gathering one by one. Flights to Japan are frequent, and the passengers were a varied group: Korean travelers, people returning to Japan, and visitors from other countries. As departure approached, the seats in front of the gate gradually filled, and occasional announcements from airport staff began to sound.

After a short wait, boarding was announced for Asiana Airlines OZ178. This service ran from Incheon Terminal 2 to Tokyo Haneda Terminal 3. Even among Japan routes, the flight is relatively short, making it a journey without too much strain once on board. As boarding began, the passengers calmly made their way into the aircraft in order.

A conversation with the passenger next to me

When I took my seat, I noticed a Western man sitting beside me. Often on a plane I travel quietly without speaking to my neighbor, but this time a conversation began naturally. It started with a simple greeting, and as we talked I learned that he was a traveler from Turkey. On hearing that, I mentioned that Koreans call Turkey a brother nation.

He seemed pleased, and our conversation flowed easily from there. His name was Duhan. The moment I heard it, I told him about Kim Du-han, a famous figure in Korea. It is a familiar name at home, but for someone from another country the entirely different connection seemed interesting.

Little stories like that can keep a conversation moving. He told me he came from Ankara, Turkey, and this was his first visit to Japan. His itinerary was a long one: he planned to travel around Japan for about thirty-five days. Rather than a brief holiday, he would spend over a month seeing different regions.

The flight was not long, and with one conversation leading to another, the time passed faster than I expected. We moved naturally from his plans for Japan to our countries and our experiences of traveling. For such a short flight, we talked almost continuously until it was time to get off.

A connection that continued beyond Haneda

What began as a conversation on a plane did not simply end there. We naturally met again after arriving at Haneda and exchanged contact details. He said he was from Ankara and told me to get in touch any time if I ever visited Turkey. Most encounters on a journey are brief, but the moment of sharing a conversation can itself become part of the memory of a trip.

The cabin and the meal

Asiana served an in-flight meal on this flight too. It was a familiar sort of tray from previous Asiana flights, but because I had boarded without a proper dinner, it tasted better than I expected. Sometimes a meal seems especially good simply because I am eating it on a plane. The flight was fairly smooth. Since it was nighttime, there was not much scenery to enjoy through the window.

City lights appeared briefly after takeoff, but most of the journey felt like flying over a dark sky. About two hours passed that way, and eventually the cabin announcements began preparing us for landing. We were drawing steadily nearer to Tokyo Haneda. The moment of reaching this journey’s first destination was approaching.

Arriving at Haneda late at night

For this Tokyo journey I took Asiana Airlines OZ178 from Incheon Terminal 2 to Tokyo Haneda Terminal 3, with a scheduled arrival of about 11:25 p.m. Korea and Japan have no time difference, and the flight itself lasts only around two hours. Yet after landing, immigration often means it takes a little longer than expected to emerge into the airport. That was true this time.

The aircraft landed around 11:30 p.m., and time slipped by as I went through immigration. Several flights can arrive together late at night, which sometimes creates a wait. By the time I had completed everything and entered the terminal, midnight had already passed. By the calendar, I had reached Japan on March 4, but by the end of immigration it was March 5.

Night flights sometimes unfold that way. Still, an airport at this hour has a mood quite unlike daytime. Travelers move calmly through a relatively quiet space. It was also the moment when being in Tokyo gradually began to feel real.

Immigration at Haneda

Once again, I cleared immigration and received a sticker in my passport permitting a ninety-day stay.

Collecting my bag and clearing customs

After immigration I continued to baggage claim. Down by the carousels, displays showed the belt assigned to each flight. The luggage from our flight began appearing fairly quickly, and I did not have to wait long for mine. I had nothing to declare on this occasion either, so customs was relatively quick. With that, the arrival procedures at Haneda were complete.

The layout and atmosphere of Haneda

Over repeated visits, one thing has always struck me about Haneda. Compared with other major international airports, it is relatively compact, yet its routes are efficiently arranged. Looking at the time, I found it an awkward hour to head into Tokyo. At that point I thought it would be difficult to get into the city by train, and spending time in the airport seemed more realistic than forcing an onward journey. Instead of leaving for the city immediately, I decided to rest for a while inside Terminal 3.

A stop with the traveler I met on the plane

After finishing all the arrival formalities, I came out into the airport. Ordinarily I would probably have looked straight for somewhere to rest, rather than exploring much, given the late hour. This time, though, walking with the traveler I had met on the plane naturally brought us to Terminal 3’s tourist information center. The Turkish traveler from the seat beside mine had said this was his first trip to Japan, so we needed to find out a few practical things: buying a SIM card, changing money, and transport from the airport to the city.

We went together to the Tourist Information Center inside the terminal. Haneda Terminal 3 has an information counter for visitors from abroad, where first-time travelers can ask basic questions about transport and sightseeing. For someone needing to leave the airport straight away, a place like that can be particularly helpful.

An unexpected meeting with someone from Daegu

Something unexpected happened while we were asking for advice. The member of staff helping us was Korean, and as we talked I learned that they came from Daegu. Meeting another Korean in an overseas airport may not be unusual in itself, but discovering that someone comes from the same hometown changes the atmosphere. Our conversation opened up naturally, and we talked about home. We were only about a year apart in age, which made the encounter feel even warmer. It is not every day that I happen to meet someone from my own city in a foreign airport and share a conversation like that.

How life in Japan began

As we talked, I also heard how they had begun working in Japan. Their connection with the country dated back to university. An acquaintance in Osaka had a spare room and suggested coming to Japan to live, eat, and study Japanese there. That invitation led to a period of living in Japan, during which their language skills improved quickly. It was only a conversation at an airport counter, but hearing these personal details made it a longer exchange than I had expected.

Late-night transport from Haneda

One of the things I most wanted to ask at the information center was how to get into Tokyo late at night. At first I had assumed that after midnight there would be almost no public transport, and that I would have to wait at the airport until morning. Tokyo’s subway and JR trains mostly finish around midnight, so it is indeed an awkward time to make an ordinary journey from the airport to the city. The information center, however, told us about late-night airport limousine buses.

Some routes still ran from Terminal 3, including buses toward Shinjuku and Ikebukuro. A late-night fare, a little higher than the ordinary airport bus fare, applied; it was around ¥2,800. That was more expensive than daytime service, but direct access to major districts such as Shinjuku and Ikebukuro made it a perfectly usable option. Had I known this in advance, my plans might have been a little different.

Going straight to a hotel in central Tokyo that night would have been possible. By the time I learned it, though, I had already decided to spend the night at the airport, and that was what I did. Still, the experience taught me something: Haneda is not an airport where every transport option disappears after midnight. If I arrive at a similar hour again, I could certainly consider taking a late-night bus directly into Tokyo.

An Ota City stamp trail at Haneda

The tourist information center offered another small attraction: an Ota City stamp trail. Haneda lies in Tokyo’s Ota City, and this stamp-collecting program promoted the surrounding area. I could try a stamp at the information center, leaving me with one more small record of the journey at Haneda.

It was not an activity requiring much time, but little experiences like this can become travel memories too. Since I was passing time at the airport, it was a pleasant thing to do. I had not originally planned to visit the tourist information center at all. Helping the traveler I had met on the plane brought me there naturally, and along the way I came away with unexpected stories and experiences.

Why we looked for a SIM card at Haneda

After completing arrivals and walking through the airport, buying a SIM card naturally became the focus of our conversation. I had already bought an eSIM in Korea, so I did not need to purchase a separate card at the airport. It is increasingly easy to set up an eSIM before leaving Korea and use data immediately upon arriving in Japan, and I often travel that way myself. The Turkish traveler I met on the plane was in a different position.

This was his first visit to Japan, and he had not arranged a data connection to use there. He therefore needed to buy a SIM or eSIM locally after landing. We asked at Terminal 3’s Tourist Information Center and followed their directions to JAL ABC. Haneda has several places selling SIM cards to overseas visitors, and JAL ABC is one of them.

A Japanese data SIM from JAL ABC

My new acquaintance chose a thirty-day SIM with unlimited data. I cannot remember the exact price, but I recall it being around ¥7,000. Since he planned to travel around Japan for about a month, he chose something that would last a relatively long time. The purchase itself was straightforward: after a passport check, he selected the product, paid, and received the card. During the process, however, we were given one piece of information that made us a little nervous.

No setup assistance or refund if installation failed

The staff member explained something important when he bought the SIM. If there were problems installing it, the staff could neither set it up for him nor give him a refund. In other words, once he had purchased it, any setup problems would essentially have to be solved by following the enclosed instructions himself.

Although sold at an airport counter, the product did not include on-site technical assistance. Hearing that, my acquaintance hesitated for a moment. Arriving in Japan without internet access could complicate getting around or checking accommodation.

In the end he bought the card, and we decided to try installing it immediately inside the airport. At first it did not connect, leaving us briefly at a loss. We checked the instructions again and worked through the settings, and fortunately it connected normally. Only after confirming that did we relax.

Where to find JAL ABC at Haneda

I did not need a SIM myself, but I went to the JALABC shop with the traveler I had met on the flight to help him.

Using less cash in Japan

After landing at Haneda and visiting the tourist information center, we naturally used a few other airport facilities together. One was a currency exchange counter. I had not needed to exchange money separately in Korea: card payment has become available in many places in Japan. In my case, a Toss Bank foreign-currency account let me exchange money whenever I needed, and I already had a card registered in Apple Pay.

More shops than one might expect accept cards, including Apple Pay, so in practice I do not use cash very often. I increasingly feel less need to prepare large amounts of cash for a trip to Japan. The Turkish traveler I met on the plane was in a slightly different situation, however. He had brought no yen to use in Japan and needed to change money at the airport. We asked the tourist information center where to go, then followed their directions to a Terminal 3 exchange counter.

Parting with my unexpected traveling companion

After arriving at Haneda, I visited several airport facilities with the Turkish traveler from my flight. Going together to buy his SIM and change money made us companions for a little while, quite naturally. Journeys sometimes produce these chance alliances.

He had already booked accommodation in Shibuya. Using the late-night transport information from the tourist center, he planned to take an airport limousine bus to Shinjuku, then a taxi to Shibuya. There was no direct service from the airport to Shibuya at that hour, so he chose to go via Shinjuku.

We checked the departure time at the bus stop and waited together briefly. The conversation that had begun on the plane had continued through the airport, and we finally said goodbye at the bus stop. The bus arrived, he boarded and left, and I remained alone at the airport. Now I had a night at Haneda ahead of me.

Looking for somewhere to sleep at Haneda

Terminal 3 does not close at night, so travelers passing time inside are a familiar sight. Quite a few passengers arriving late or waiting for early flights spend the night there. The difficulty was finding somewhere to sleep. Plenty of other travelers were in the same situation, and most of the relatively comfortable places had already been taken.

I had no choice but to keep walking around the terminal for quite a while, looking for seating or somewhere reasonably quiet. The airport is larger than it seems, and repeating that search soon becomes tiring. After trying several floors, I eventually reached a rest area upstairs. There too, people had already settled down.

Then I noticed someone getting up. The moment I saw the place was free, I moved over and just managed to claim it. A moment’s hesitation could have cost me the seat. By then, the long search through the terminal had left me thoroughly tired.

A colder airport dawn than I expected

Once I had a place, I arranged my luggage and tried to sleep. At first the terminal felt fairly warm. The late-night lighting was subdued, and people around me were quietly resting too. As the hours passed, though, things changed. Toward dawn, the air inside seemed to grow steadily colder.

Initially I thought I would be all right, but the longer I stayed, the more I felt the cold. Eventually I could no longer keep sleeping. I could feel my body getting chilled. An airport is hardly a comfortable sleeping environment in the first place, and some discomfort comes with the choice. Rather than forcing myself to sleep any longer, I decided to get up.

In search of something warm to eat

The night at the airport had tired me more than I expected. The cold before dawn, in particular, had left my body feeling a little stiff. My next choice was naturally to find something warm to eat. I felt I needed a hot meal to loosen up, even a little. Some businesses in Terminal 3 operate around the clock, so there are places to eat in the early hours. I started walking through the airport again in search of breakfast.

In the end, my first night on this trip belonged to Haneda rather than central Tokyo. I had intended to spend it there from the beginning, but finding a place and enduring the cold had hardly been effortless. Even so, sleeping in the airport became another memory of the journey. Haneda’s long night was passing, and my first morning in Tokyo was beginning.

Morning after a night at the airport

After spending the night at Haneda, I was more tired than I had expected. When I first tried to sleep, I thought I would be fine, but toward dawn the terminal grew quite cold. Eventually I got up without having slept properly. Moving around and eating something warm seemed better than trying to sleep more, so I began looking through the airport for somewhere to have breakfast.

Terminal 3 stays open overnight, and some shops begin opening in the early hours. Walking around, I discovered Edo Koji upstairs: an airport dining street styled after the streets of old Edo, the historical name for Tokyo. Traditional-looking signs and wooden-style facades gave it a distinctive atmosphere. Although still inside an airport, it felt different from an ordinary shopping mall.

A little restaurant street inside Haneda

Edo Koji brings together a range of Japanese restaurants. There are noodle dishes such as ramen, thick wheat udon, and buckwheat soba, as well as sushi and tempura, the familiar light-battered fried seafood and vegetables. It is a popular stop for a final meal before leaving Japan or for travelers passing time in the airport. Most restaurants, however, close late at night.

Terminal 3 itself operates twenty-four hours, but most places in Edo Koji follow ordinary restaurant hours, leaving quite a few shutters down overnight. That was what I found too. It was early, some restaurants had yet to open, and only a few were beginning preparations. Still, after a night in the terminal, I could think of little but warm food. My body was quite cold, and I wanted a hot meal to bring some warmth back into it.

Tokyo’s first morning begins at the airport

Spending a night in an airport can feel hard at first. There is no comfortable bed where I can stretch out and sleep. Yet watching the airport begin to move again after dawn brings another feeling. Cleaners start tidying the terminal, shops open one by one, and the mood changes little by little.

Between night and morning, an airport is quieter and calmer than one might expect. Edo Koji in Terminal 3 was one place where I could feel that transition. It was where my first Tokyo morning began after sleeping at Haneda. The long hours of the night were ending, and it was almost time to prepare for the journey into the city.

My first breakfast at the airport

After the night at Haneda, I felt worse than I had anticipated. I had not slept lying down properly, and the cold inside the terminal before dawn had made deep sleep difficult. Rather than trying for more sleep, I thought a warm meal might help me recover a little. After those hours at the airport, I especially wanted something with hot broth, and naturally decided to eat here.

A ramen shop in Haneda’s Edo Koji

The shop stood in Terminal 3’s Edo Koji dining area. It was an airport restaurant, but its sign and displayed menu gave me the feeling of entering a specialist ramen shop. At an hour when other places were still closed or preparing to open, I was simply glad to find somewhere I could sit down and eat something hot. I chose from the menu. What I needed then was less a comparison of famous bowls across several restaurants than warm broth to loosen a body stiffened by the night.

A bowl of chicken ramen

I ordered tori shio ramen, chicken ramen with a salt-seasoned broth, for ¥1,250. After sleeping in the airport, I was especially hungry for a dish with hot soup. When the bowl arrived, my first impression was that the broth was quite salty. To my palate, that first sip tasted distinctly strong. The thought came naturally: I really am in Japan now.

Even so, after the exhaustion of passing the night in the terminal, the hot broth helped more than I expected. As I ate the bowl, I felt my body gradually loosening. I could not say I had fully recovered, but it was a perfectly good choice for my first meal after that airport night. Haneda’s long hours were ending, and I was getting ready for the day in Tokyo to begin in earnest.

Haneda’s observation deck, at the top of the terminal

At the very top of Haneda Terminal 3 is an observation deck: an outdoor space looking directly over the runways and the airport surroundings. The terminal signs point to it, and taking the escalators upstairs makes it fairly easy to find. I had also come up briefly the previous night. I discovered it by chance while wandering through the airport before trying to sleep. The runway lights were on, and I enjoyed a little of the night view in the airport’s particular quiet. I could not stay long, though. After a brief look, I went back downstairs and resumed searching for somewhere to sleep.

Back on the deck after a night at Haneda

As morning came after my night at the airport, the mood inside began to change. The relatively quiet terminal gradually filled with people, and shops were preparing to open one by one. I was still far from feeling my best after the night there, but breakfast had given me enough energy to move around a little. I decided to return to the observation deck. Having only seen the night view briefly, I was curious about how it would look in the morning.

I rode the escalators back to the top and stepped outside to find an entirely different atmosphere. The sun was just beginning to rise, and the sky was slowly lightening. It was not a perfectly clear sunrise, but I could see brightness growing in the direction of the sun. Morning light fell across the runways, making a landscape entirely unlike the one I had seen the night before.

At night the airport lighting and runway lights had defined the view; now natural light seemed to illuminate the whole airport. Only the night before I had been roaming around looking for somewhere to sleep. Suddenly it was morning, and I was seeing an entirely different landscape from the same place. Only then did it truly sink in that I had spent a whole night at Haneda.

Too much morning wind to linger

Staying on the deck proved harder than I expected. A strong wind was already blowing. It is an open-air space, fully exposed, and with few tall buildings around the airport the wind passes freely across it. At first I intended simply to enjoy the view for a while, but before long the gusts felt stronger than I had imagined.

Already worn down by the airport night, I felt the cold even more sharply. The wind kept coming, making even a short time standing there difficult. At moments it was strong enough to feel as though it were pushing my body. Of course, I was not actually about to be blown away, but that was how forceful it felt.

I abandoned the idea of lingering, took a brief look at the scenery, and returned indoors. Once I came down into the terminal, the wind vanished and the difference in warmth was immediate. The airport had already taken on its morning mood, another face from the one I had seen at night. Haneda’s long night was behind me, and the first morning of my Tokyo trip was gradually unfolding.

Meeting Godzilla at Haneda

Walking through Terminal 3’s arrivals floor, there is one display that is hard to miss: the Godzilla statue. A sculpture of one of Japan’s defining film characters stands inside the airport. It might seem an unexpected thing to find in a terminal, but in person it is large enough to draw the eye naturally.

It stands on the second-floor arrivals level, close to the route into the arrivals lobby after entry formalities, making it easy for international passengers entering Japan to spot. Around it, travelers often stop for photographs. With such a recognizable Japanese character, plenty of people want a picture to remember their arrival.

The first glimpse, and coming back

I first saw this Godzilla just after entering Japan. It caught my eye as I moved through the terminal after arrival procedures. That night I was on my way with the Turkish traveler from my flight to buy a SIM at JAL ABC, and we passed it along the way. At first I treated it simply as another airport display and kept walking.

We had practical things to do immediately after landing, so there was little room to pay it much attention: a SIM, currency exchange, and transport information came first. After spending the night at Haneda, however, I encountered it again while walking around in the morning. This time I was nearly ready to leave and had a little breathing room.

I stopped in front of the statue again to take photographs. Thinking about it, this was somewhere I had seen immediately upon arriving in Japan, and somewhere I was passing again after an entire night in the airport. It began to feel like one of the scenes that stood for Haneda on this journey.

Cultural touches in a Japanese airport

In Japan, these cultural presentations often appear in public spaces such as stations and airports. Rather than mere decoration, familiar characters and other elements associated with Japan are placed naturally within the space. As a traveler, I sometimes feel I have arrived in Japan from the moment I enter the terminal. Haneda’s Godzilla contributed to that feeling. It was not somewhere to linger for long, but taking another photograph before leaving the airport brought the opening scenes of the trip back to me.

Considering a shower at Haneda

After the night at Haneda, I felt worse than I had expected. I had not been able to sleep properly lying down, and the terminal had become cold enough before dawn to make deep rest difficult. By morning, I naturally wanted a shower. A night in an airport often leaves me feeling uncomfortably unwashed. I checked the price, which I remember as around ¥1,500. Considering it was an airport facility, that did not seem particularly expensive. I asked about using it.

A longer wait than expected

There was a reason I gave up on the shower rooms: the staff told me the wait was about ninety minutes. Having already spent the night in the terminal, waiting that much longer was not really practical. Apparently the Haneda showers are more popular than one might expect. Especially at night and early in the morning, travelers spending time at the airport often want to use them, and the queue can become quite long.

Finding a shower in the city

With the airport shower no longer practical, I returned to the tourist information center to ask about alternatives. The night had left me quite tired, and above all I could not shake the wish to wash. After hearing their explanation, I felt there was no need to wait ninety minutes or more at the airport.

I had already passed the night there; moving into Tokyo instead of spending still more time in the terminal also made more sense for the day’s plans. I decided to leave the Haneda shower rooms and take a shower at an internet café in the city instead. Once that was settled, it felt as though nearly everything I needed to do at the airport was finished. All that remained was to leave Haneda and head into Tokyo.

From Haneda into Tokyo

By morning after my night at Haneda, my time in the airport had largely run its course. Walking around, having breakfast, visiting the observation deck briefly, and looking through the facilities had brought me naturally to the next part of the day. What remained was to leave Haneda and head into Tokyo.

There are two principal rail options from the airport to central Tokyo: the Keikyu Line and the Tokyo Monorail. Both are major airport connections used by many travelers. This time I chose the monorail, from Haneda Airport Terminal 3 Station to Hamamatsucho.

At Hamamatsucho I could change to the JR Yamanote Line, making it a relatively convenient route to major districts such as Ikebukuro and Shinjuku. I remembered using Keikyu on an earlier Tokyo trip. That line is quick and convenient too, but this time I thought it would be nice to watch the view from the monorail. After a night in the airport, I also wanted to travel at a slightly more relaxed pace.

Tokyo Monorail fares and journey times

I liked that the journey from the airport into the city was straightforward.

Tokyo’s waterfront from the monorail

The Tokyo Monorail feels a little different from an ordinary subway or train. As its name suggests, it follows an elevated monorail track, opening up a broad view along the way. Some seats run along the sides like a conventional train, while others face the windows, a pleasant arrangement for watching the scenery. For a visitor, seats like that can be especially appealing.

Leaving Haneda toward the city, there are brief stretches of water connected to Tokyo Bay. With the airport so close to the sea, the ride offers glimpses of Tokyo’s waterfront and harbor. I was tired after the night in the terminal, but watching the view made the journey easier than I had expected. It felt less like simply getting somewhere than experiencing the approach to Tokyo with a little time to spare.

Arriving and changing at Hamamatsucho

After about fifteen to twenty minutes, the monorail reached Hamamatsucho. The journey from Haneda toward central Tokyo had felt surprisingly quick. Hamamatsucho connects the monorail with JR services and is a busy interchange for airport passengers. Beyond the monorail gates, signs led naturally to the passage toward JR Hamamatsucho Station. The transfer route was fairly straightforward, a layout that seemed manageable even for someone using it for the first time. This journey had begun after a night in the airport, but I was now properly on my way into the heart of Tokyo.

The JR Yamanote Line to Ikebukuro

There were commuters on the morning train. As central Tokyo passed outside the window, I finally felt the trip beginning. About thirty minutes later I reached Ikebukuro, and the long airport night seemed fully behind me.

An internet café after a night at the airport

After sleeping at Haneda and reaching Ikebukuro by monorail and the JR Yamanote Line, there was one thing I needed to do first: take a shower. The airport night had left me quite tired, and above all I kept wanting to wash. It was too early to check in at my accommodation, however. Most hotels do not allow check-in until the afternoon, so entering a room in the morning is usually difficult. I remembered what I had heard at Haneda: the tourist information center had told me that many internet cafés in Tokyo offer showers. On arriving in Ikebukuro, I decided to look for one before doing anything else.

Kaikatsu Club, Ikebukuro East Exit Ekimae

Of Ikebukuro’s several internet cafés, I chose Kaikatsu Club’s Ikebukuro East Exit Ekimae branch. Kaikatsu Club is a well-known Japanese chain found in many cities. It offers different kinds of seating, including booths with personal computers and less expensive seats in a shared area. Since I only wanted a shower and a little time to rest, I chose a shared-area seat without a computer. The price was relatively modest: about ¥770 for three hours, with shorter use available in thirty-minute units starting at around ¥270. As somewhere to shower or pause after an airport night, it seemed a good choice.

Registration and how it worked

I could register as a member on the spot through a simple process, then use the facilities after an identity check. Kaikatsu Club also has its own app, but when I asked, the staff explained that app registration required a Japanese phone number.

A longer-than-expected wait for the shower

Each shower session lasted about twenty minutes, and demand was high enough to make the wait longer than I expected. It was morning, overlapping with the commute to work, and quite a few people seemed to want a shower at that hour.

Passing time in the internet café

Inside Kaikatsu Club was also an area where customers could freely read a wide selection of manga. Manga shelves are a characteristic feature of Japanese internet cafés, and here the bookcases were substantial, with numerous volumes of popular series neatly arranged. There was one problem: everything was in Japanese.

I browsed briefly among the many books, but in the end there was not a single one I could read. I study a little Japanese, but I am nowhere near reading manga fluently. After a short look at the shelves, I returned to my seat. It was a familiar feature of Japanese internet cafés, yet actually using the place made me think I would be treating it more as a rest space than somewhere to read comics.

There was also a drinks area with complimentary coffee and other beverages, available freely during a visit. Charging ports at the seats let customers recharge phones and other devices too. Using these facilities while waiting for my shower, I found the time passed more quickly than expected.

A longer stay than planned

My original plan was to shower and leave. My turn came much later than I expected, however, and the long wait naturally extended my visit. I waited more than an hour and a half before I could shower, making the total stay longer than planned. In the end, I decided it made more sense to stay within the three-hour rate rather than rush out. Altogether I spent about two and a half hours there. I had arrived exhausted by the night in the terminal, but a shower and a little rest left me feeling at least somewhat restored.

My first meal after the internet café

By the time I came out of the Ikebukuro internet café after showering and resting, quite a while had passed. Traveling straight on after a night in the airport had left me worn out, but washing and pausing for a little while had restored some energy. Stepping back into Ikebukuro’s streets, I naturally began thinking about lunch. The area around the station is one of Tokyo’s major commercial districts, so finding restaurants and cafés is hardly difficult.

A short walk brings ramen shops, tonkatsu restaurants serving breaded pork cutlets, gyudon chains selling beef rice bowls, and all kinds of cafés. After the airport night, though, I wanted something light and simple rather than an elaborate meal. I decided to stay nearby and look for an easy lunch. As I walked, McDonald’s naturally caught my eye. There are several around Ikebukuro Station; the one I used was the Ikebukuro North Exit branch.

McDonald’s by Ikebukuro’s north exit

I ordered at a self-service kiosk near the entrance. These ordering screens are common at Japanese McDonald’s: choose the meal, pay, and the order goes through. Changing the language is relatively easy too, making the process manageable without much Japanese. After ordering, I went upstairs and found a seat on the second floor. The restaurant occupied two floors, and the seats by the upstairs windows looked down over the streets of Ikebukuro. Close to the station, there was plenty of movement outside, a natural scene to watch while eating.

Cheese Teritama, a Japanese McDonald’s spring special

I ordered a Cheese Teritama meal. Seasonal limited editions appear often at Japanese McDonald’s, and the Teritama series is known as a recurring spring offering. The name combines teriyaki, the sweet soy-based preparation, with tamago, meaning egg: a burger with a teriyaki-sauced patty and an egg.

The Cheese Teritama adds cheese to that combination. The ingredients are fairly simple: a pork patty with teriyaki sauce, a fried egg, cheese, and lettuce. It can be seen as a variation on McDonald’s Japan’s familiar Teriyaki Burger. Burgers using teriyaki sauce are especially popular in Japan.

The sweet Japanese soy sauce suits the patty, and teriyaki variations keep returning to the menu. Looking at it, I wondered whether this one had been timed to the cherry blossom season. In Japan, spring often brings all sorts of limited menus accompanying the blossoms.

Ikebukuro’s streets from a window seat

The meal included fries and a drink. I remember choosing a peach-flavored drink instead of the usual cola. Peach drinks are fairly common in Japan, and even fast-food restaurants often offer them. Perhaps because I had kept moving after sleeping at the airport, this simple fast-food meal was more satisfying than I expected.

Eating by the window and looking down over Ikebukuro gradually made my arrival in Tokyo feel real. I was tired from a morning of continuous travel, but this brief rest and lunch gave me the sense that I could move again. After finishing the simple meal, I decided to explore Ikebukuro’s streets a little further.

An electronics store right beside McDonald’s

After my simple lunch at McDonald’s, I stepped outside. Having spent the night at the airport, traveled into town, and finally showered at the internet café, I felt the rhythm of traveling slowly returning. Out on the street, I naturally looked around. Ikebukuro Station stands in one of Tokyo’s liveliest districts, with all kinds of shops only a few steps away. Several large electronics stores are concentrated here too, and right beside McDonald’s I saw Bic Camera.

Visiting one of Japan’s electronics retailers can be entertaining in itself. Although I had no particular electronics purchase planned, I decided to take a quick look. The store was considerably larger than I expected, stretching from a basement level up to the eighth floor. Its red signage, characteristic of Japanese electronics retailers, stood out even at a distance.

The scene at the top of the escalator

I entered and rode the escalator to the second floor to begin looking around. Immediately, one thing surprised me: there were staff everywhere. Japanese electronics stores often have plenty of employees, but here I saw representatives of numerous brands standing in their respective sections. As someone who had only come in for a casual look, I felt a little taken aback. In Japanese electronics stores, staff often offer explanations or help with a purchase while customers browse.

I began walking slowly through the floor, seeing what was there. The mobile phone and Apple sections were particularly large. Because smartphone sales in Japan are often tied to carriers, electronics shops tend to devote considerable space to them. iPhones and many other models were displayed, with several devices available to try. Apple accessories and peripherals were arranged alongside, including a broad selection of earphones, chargers, cables, and cases.

Electronics, gadgets, and more

One characteristic of retailers like Bic Camera is that they sell far more than electronics alone. Walking around reveals a surprising variety of products. Computer peripherals such as keyboards and mice, for example, came in a wide range. Mechanical keyboards and gaming equipment are popular in Japan, and their sections were fairly extensive. I also found VR devices on display.

Meta’s VR equipment particularly caught my eye, laid out where customers could see it directly. It felt like a small view of the direction of the electronics market. Other floors offered cameras, earphones, game consoles, drones, and many more devices. Character merchandise and toys were sold too, so wandering through the building sometimes felt more like exploring a large shopping complex than visiting an electronics store.

The pleasure of browsing without buying

I had no specific product in mind to buy on this visit. I had only dropped in while exploring Ikebukuro. Even so, moving from floor to floor took more time than I expected. Electronics shops are enjoyable places to browse; walking around can be entertainment enough even when I need nothing. Japanese stores in particular often arrange their products neatly, adding to that pleasure. I bought nothing this time, but it struck me as an interesting place for a short browse while in Ikebukuro.

An underpass linking Ikebukuro’s east and west

After looking around Bic Camera, I began making my way toward my accommodation. It lay northwest of Ikebukuro Station, so I still had some distance to cover around the station. I could have gone at street level, but there were also underground pedestrian routes nearby. I naturally followed one of those. At the entrance, I noticed the name WE ROAD.

Initially I thought it was just an underpass, but a little farther inside I realized it was more striking than I had expected. This pedestrian-only underground passage links the east and west sides of Ikebukuro Station across its northern end. About seventy-seven meters long, it is well used by people crossing between the two sides. Around the station, the stream of people heading through it is a natural part of the surroundings.

An underground space remade with murals

Paintings in many colors continued across the passage walls and ceiling. I had come down thinking only of crossing from the east side of the station to the west, but inside the colors caught my attention first. People kept flowing through while I slowed to look more closely at the walls. Seeing its name and taking in the surroundings, I enjoyed discovering a place like this near an otherwise familiar station. I had not sought out a major art museum, yet the short crossing had given me a scene to see along the way.

The moment RE:ROAD came to mind

Walking through, I kept looking at the walls. Perhaps because the colors were so strong, the whole space had a distinctive mood. Many people hurried through, though I also saw a few slowing briefly to look around. Then something came to mind: Kano Miyu’s song RE:ROAD. Of course, this passage is WE ROAD, while the song is RE:ROAD; they are not exactly the same words.

Yet seeing the name as I walked underground brought the song naturally into my thoughts. Travel often has moments when the name or view of a place calls up a particular memory. WE ROAD gave me that feeling too. The instant when the song surfaced as I continued along the passage remained a surprisingly vivid memory of this trip.

Daytime Ikebukuro on the way to my room

After browsing Bic Camera, I began heading toward my accommodation. It was west of Ikebukuro Station, so I naturally walked through the streets around the station. Tokyo is so vast that even staying close to a station reveals all kinds of scenes. Ikebukuro is one of its major commercial districts, and people kept moving through the streets.

As one of northern Tokyo’s principal entertainment and shopping centers, it gathers restaurants, shops, and leisure facilities in one urban hub. The district grew around the enormous railway interchange of Ikebukuro Station, through which huge numbers pass every day. As I walked toward my room, I naturally took a few photographs of the streets. I was still carrying the fatigue of a night at the airport and the onward journey, but seeing Tokyo like this also made the trip feel as though it was beginning in earnest.

The Japanese streetscape in its signs

The signs were the first thing that caught my attention as I walked. In central Japanese cities, building facades are often crowded with them, especially where restaurants, bars, and entertainment venues gather. Western Ikebukuro had that same atmosphere. All sorts of signs filled the streets, some with a distinctly unusual character. A few of the pictures and photographs were, well, a little odd.

Some images were startling enough on first sight to make me hesitate. I naturally realized that I had reached the nightlife area. Ikebukuro is known for shopping and sightseeing, but it also has streets lined with drinking places, bars, karaoke establishments, and adult entertainment. These concentrations are especially evident to the west and north of the station. Even in daylight, I felt I could imagine something of the night simply by looking at the signs.

A city scene a little different from Korea

One thing I felt while looking around was how the urban mood differed from Korea. Seoul has busy shopping and nightlife districts too, of course, but the designs and atmosphere of Japanese signs often feel different. Pictures, characters, and photographs are used actively, sometimes turning the whole street into a visual composition. As I walk, I naturally find myself looking from sign to sign until they become a landscape in their own right.

Ikebukuro gave me that feeling strongly. Even in daylight, signs continued along the streets, with restaurants, drinking places, and karaoke businesses between them. It did not project nightlife as forcefully as Kabukicho, another of Tokyo’s entertainment districts, but the signs still made me feel unmistakably that I was in Japan. I took a few photographs as I went.

Good weather for photographs

Another thing I noticed while photographing the streets was how good the weather was. Compared with the previous day, the sky was much clearer, and the sunlight fairly bright. It made pleasant conditions for street photography. Sunlight falling between buildings brought out the signs’ colors and made the streets look sharper. Tokyo is so large that simply photographing its streets can yield many interesting scenes. In a densely commercial area like Ikebukuro, the signs, the movement of people, and the shapes of buildings combine into a distinctive urban atmosphere.

A small guesthouse in a neighborhood northwest of Ikebukuro

My first accommodation in Tokyo was a place called Kankokukan, whose name means Korea House. It stood in a residential neighborhood a short walk northwest of Ikebukuro Station. The station area is busy, with plenty of hotels and other accommodation, but a little way into the lanes there are also many quieter places among homes. Kankokukan was one of them. Rather than a hotel on a main road, it stood down a residential lane, and at first I wondered whether I had found the right place.

From outside, it felt more like a small lodging house than a conventional hotel building. Compared with the business hotels people commonly picture, it was quite small. With relatively few rooms, it had the feeling of a tidy guesthouse rather than a hotel. Its location was good all the same: within walking distance of Ikebukuro Station, with a residential setting that stayed relatively quiet at night.

The room and the interior

The arrangement inside also differed a little from an ordinary hotel. The rooms were private, but toilets and showers were shared. It was closer to a guesthouse setup than a completely self-contained hotel room. My room was on the second floor. It was not large, but there was enough space for one person to stay without much difficulty. It contained a bed and a simple table, and I could open my suitcase without feeling particularly cramped.

Shared facilities were downstairs on the first floor: a refrigerator, a place for a simple meal, and an area where guests could sit and rest briefly. That arrangement too was typical of a guesthouse or small lodging rather than a hotel. Overall, though, the interior was quite orderly and reasonably clean. It was no luxurious hotel, but it felt sufficient for a comfortable stay.

Checking in, and the reason for the name

I arrived a little before the stated check-in time. I intended simply to ask whether I could leave my luggage. After sleeping at the airport and traveling onward, continuing to carry it around felt burdensome. At reception, before I could do much more than ask, I learned that the room was already ready, and fortunately I could check in straight away.

Getting into the room earlier than expected made the first day much easier. During check-in, I asked something I had been wondering about: why the place was called Kankokukan. The staff member explained that its original operator was Korean, which was why it had been named Korea House.

According to that explanation, it had remained Korean-run until around 2020. The operator seemed to have changed since, but the name apparently stayed. Encountering accommodation called Korea House in the middle of a Japanese city was an interesting little experience.

Good value for the stay

Overall, this was no hotel with lavish facilities. There were no private toilets or bathrooms inside the rooms, and the building was small. From a traveler’s perspective, though, I felt it was a worthwhile choice, particularly for the price. I remember paying about ₩44,000 for the night. By Tokyo accommodation standards, that was inexpensive.

Finding somewhere at that price in an urban district such as Ikebukuro is not easy. Trading a little in facilities for the location and cost left me quite satisfied. After starting the day with a night at the airport, I was especially glad to have somewhere I could finally rest properly. I put my things in order and paused for a while, preparing to begin my Tokyo days in earnest.

Back outside, into the afternoon

After resting briefly and arranging my things at the guesthouse, I went outside again. The airport night and the onward journey had left me low on energy, but the short pause had helped me recover a little. I meant to head back toward Ikebukuro Station and continue the afternoon. My accommodation was in a residential neighborhood northwest of the station, so getting there meant walking through a few lanes.

A little removed from the busy commercial streets, the area was relatively quiet, with homes and small buildings and more local residents than tourists. Before setting off properly, I considered buying a drink from the vending machine right outside the guesthouse. I noticed a Pikachu picture on it and was taking a photograph.

Character-covered vending machines are fairly common in Japan, and the familiar Pokémon design amused me enough to stop. Just then, someone approached and spoke to me. For a moment I considered simply walking on. Strangers sometimes start conversations during a journey.

But this person asked whether I could listen for a little while as we walked toward the station, so I stopped to talk. I asked whether it was all right that I was a foreigner, and they said they spoke a little English. We naturally continued in Japanese mixed with short stretches of English.

A short walk that led to a park

At first I thought we would talk briefly on the way toward the station and then part. As we spoke, however, I became curious about why they had approached a stranger. They explained that they were living with a mental health condition and felt a little better when talking with someone. That was why they had wanted a brief conversation. Hearing that, I felt I could at least listen for a while instead of simply passing by.

I said I thought it was good that they were coming outside and trying to meet people rather than staying home all the time. We strayed a little from my original route. They offered to show me a park in their neighborhood, and we walked that way. After a few minutes, a small park appeared: Ikebukuro Park, run by Toshima City. I was a little surprised to find a neighborhood park like this so close to Ikebukuro’s busy streets.

The feeling of an old neighborhood park

Inside, the park was not particularly large, just the size of a neighborhood space where local people might rest or take a walk. What especially struck me was its earth surface. These days in Korea, many parks have rubber matting or paved ground, so seeing bare earth like this felt almost unfamiliar.

At the same time, it brought back memories of playing in neighborhood parks as a child. An earthen ground, a small playground, a few benches: there were no remarkable facilities, but the simplicity itself felt familiar. It impressed me that this kind of neighborhood park could remain in a metropolis like Tokyo.

A brief conversation with Yukari

We sat on a bench for a little while and talked some more. My companion’s name was Yukari, and they lived near Ikebukuro. The conversation was not long. We began in Japanese; simple exchanges worked to a degree, and whenever we struggled to understand each other, we switched to English for a while. Communication was not entirely effortless, but mixing the two languages let us share ordinary things well enough.

We spent a short time talking about this and that. Traveling sometimes brings encounters with people I could never have expected. They have nothing to do with the itinerary, yet those can be the moments that remain most clearly. The brief conversation in Ikebukuro Park became one of those memories. It was no famous attraction, but the experience of talking there remained as a small scene from the journey.

The neighborhood barber Yukari showed me

After our short conversation in Ikebukuro Park, I walked a little farther along the lanes with Yukari. They seemed to live nearby and know the neighborhood well. At one point Yukari indicated a building and explained that it was a barber shop run by a friend’s father. This was Izumi Barber Shop. Yukari told me again about the friend’s father who ran it, saying they sometimes stopped by when passing.

It was not necessarily for a haircut, but a place to say hello or have a brief chat. We naturally paused outside. On a journey, I do not often get a glimpse of somewhere so entirely part of residents’ ordinary lives. Instead of passing straight by, I looked around briefly and took a few photographs.

The scene at an old neighborhood barber shop

Izumi was not a large shop. Even from outside it had the unmistakable feeling of an old neighborhood barber. The traditional signage and the look of the building remained intact, things now harder to find in Korea. The barber pole was especially noticeable, its red and blue stripes turning round.

These were once common at home too, but are increasingly rare now. Perhaps that was why standing outside and looking at the building felt like looking into an older neighborhood scene, somewhere time passed a little more slowly. Through Yukari’s introduction, I also went inside briefly.

The interior held much the same mood as the exterior: an orderly layout and the modest atmosphere of an old local barber. I looked around for a moment and was able to take a few pictures. Finding a place that retained the character of an old neighborhood shop so near busy Ikebukuro left an impression on me.

Older scenes that often remain in Japan

Standing briefly outside and taking photographs, I had a thought. Traveling in Japan, I quite often encounter places where old shops and streetscapes have remained as they were. Discovering quiet lanes and old businesses only a short distance from bustling Ikebukuro was one of this trip’s pleasures. Izumi Barber Shop was not a tourist sight, but the brief visit and the photographs made it another small scene from the journey.

Back at Shibuya’s Starbucks

After arriving in Shibuya, I returned to somewhere I had not visited for a while: Starbucks SHIBUYA TSUTAYA. Right in front of the scramble crossing, it is one of Tokyo’s better-known Starbucks locations. Its view over the intersection makes it popular with visitors. I had been once before, but remembered looking only at a pop-up shop on the first floor before moving on; I had never really explored the café itself.

This time I had a little more time, so I went up to the second floor and looked around properly. It was larger than I expected, with several seating areas and windows overlooking Shibuya’s streets. Despite the space, however, it was extremely crowded. The number of overseas visitors especially stood out. I saw many Western tourists, and plenty of people seemed to have come upstairs specifically for a view of the crossing.

A small soft toy in the merchandise section

One side of the café had a space selling Starbucks merchandise. Japanese Starbucks stores often carry different seasonal items, and here too there was a range to browse. I saw tumblers and mugs, along with designs that seemed exclusive to Japan. A small soft toy caught my attention.

It looked like a bear character, although closer up its unusual design also reminded me a little of a possum. What particularly struck me was the character 福, meaning good fortune, written on its belly. I bought one as a memento of the visit. Sometimes that is enough reason to buy a little piece of merchandise, even when I do not particularly need it.

A view over Shibuya Scramble Crossing

The most striking spot in the café was, of course, by the windows, looking down over Shibuya Scramble Crossing. One of Tokyo’s most famous intersections, it is often used to represent the city because of the way people cross from every direction when the lights change. From a window seat, all that movement is visible at once. People kept gathering along the glass to take photographs or simply watch. I stood there too for a while, looking down at the crossing and letting some time pass.

Reuniting with my Turkish friend

Coffee was not my only reason for visiting this Starbucks. I had arranged to meet the Turkish friend from the previous night’s flight here. After parting at Haneda, we had stayed in touch and agreed to meet again in Shibuya, choosing the café as somewhere easy to find. I waited a little while inside, then met up with him.

Our connection had begun with a brief conversation at the airport, so seeing each other again in central Tokyo felt a little curious. Travel sometimes lets an unexpected encounter continue like this. After meeting at Starbucks and talking for a short while, we headed elsewhere for dinner.

Finding dinner in Shibuya Center-gai

After meeting my Turkish friend again at Starbucks, we naturally decided to eat dinner together. It was already well into the evening, and Shibuya’s streets were still crowded. He said that since he was in Japan, he wanted to try udon, but I could not immediately think of a particular udon restaurant in Shibuya. Instead, I remembered a ramen shop whose entrance I had seen on an earlier visit but never entered because the timing was wrong.

I had passed by without eating then; now it was dinnertime, so we decided to try it. That was how we came to Keika Ramen’s Shibuya Center-gai branch. It stood inside Center-gai, one of Shibuya’s liveliest streets, packed with restaurants, shops, and entertainment. In the evening, young people and tourists keep passing through, and amid them the ramen shop’s sign was fairly easy to find. It was only a few minutes’ walk from Shibuya Station, a convenient location.

Ordering at the ticket machine by the entrance

Inside, the shop used the ticket-machine system common in Japanese ramen restaurants. A machine stood just by the door: select a dish, pay, and collect a meal ticket. Plenty of ramen shops work this way, so travelers tend to encounter it several times. In an unfamiliar restaurant, though, choosing the right dish can take a little thought.

As we studied the machine, a staff member came over and briefly explained which ramen was the standard option. Following that advice, we chose a few items: ramen, rice, gyoza, the pan-fried dumplings, and cola. We handed the tickets to the staff member and went upstairs to sit on the second floor.

It can feel unfamiliar at first, but in use the system is quite convenient. Ordering and paying happen together, so there is no separate bill to settle after eating, while the restaurant can process orders efficiently. It has been part of Japanese ramen culture for a long time, and it is something travelers experience repeatedly.

Keika’s Kumamoto-style ramen

The broth has a strong garlic flavor, somewhat different from ordinary tonkotsu ramen, the pork-bone-broth style. Keika is also known for ramen topped with kakuni, Japanese braised pork. Called Taromen, this bowl with its braised pork topping is one of the chain’s signature dishes.

Our different tastes

After a short wait, the food began arriving one dish at a time. The ramen broth was rich, and the noodles had a springy texture. After the airport night and all the movement since, hot food felt particularly welcome. I found it better than I had expected, and the gyoza were pleasantly straightforward too. My Turkish friend reacted differently.

After a few bites, he looked as though the ramen suited him less than he had hoped. In the end he left quite a lot. I wondered whether the salty broth or the flavor of pork bones was unfamiliar to him. Food preferences vary enormously from person to person, so his response was perfectly understandable.

Talking about what came next

We kept talking about all sorts of things over dinner. My friend planned to spend about thirty-five days in Japan but had not yet firmly decided his next destination. Naturally, we began discussing his route. As we talked, we concluded that going to Osaka the next day would be a good plan, and decided to look into Shinkansen tickets at Shibuya Station. Before going straight to the station, however, we agreed to stop at the nearby Manekineko karaoke establishment and headed there first.

Visiting the fan meeting venue in advance

While in Shibuya, I decided to stop briefly at the nearby Manekineko karaoke venue. Kano Miyu’s fan meeting would be held here on Saturday, March 7, two days later. It seemed useful to see the actual venue in advance, so I took the opportunity to visit. This was Manekineko’s Shibuya main branch, on the fourth floor of a building that also housed Uniqlo.

The building’s layout was slightly unusual. The escalators went only as far as the third floor; reaching the karaoke floor above required an elevator. I went in, took the escalators to the third floor, then found the elevator to continue up to the fourth. Since I was there to check an event venue rather than simply to sing, I entered a little cautiously.

Getting a glimpse of the event space

At the counter, I briefly explained the situation to the staff member. I had not come for karaoke, but wanted to see the place where a fan meeting would take place in a few days. Communication was not entirely easy, but fortunately the staff member understood and showed me the event space briefly. Alongside the ordinary karaoke rooms was a separate, relatively large space for events.

The fan meeting would take place in Room 1. It was much larger than a typical karaoke room, with a small stage, and looked big enough for around fifty people. Although part of a karaoke venue, it seemed a suitable arrangement for small events and fan meetings. In Japan, karaoke chains are sometimes used this way for intimate performances and fan gatherings.

A harder Japanese conversation than expected

The staff member was reasonably kind, but the conversation was harder than I had expected. They spoke very quickly, using quite a few unfamiliar words and expressions rather than phrases I heard often. Above all, they did not seem particularly conscious that I was a foreigner, continuing at the pace they would normally use with a Japanese customer.

At points I had to let things pass while understanding almost nothing. Still, I could follow the overall context to some extent, and I did achieve my purpose of seeing the space where the event would take place. I was a little tense, but in the end I had managed what I came for.

A small push to study more Japanese

Recently I had felt much more comfortable with Japanese than before. Having reached level 100 in Duolingo, I thought I could carry on basic conversations with some ease. Speaking with this member of staff brought an unexpected little disappointment. There was more I failed to understand properly than I had anticipated, and unfamiliar words or phrases made the flow hard to follow.

Interestingly, though, this particular conversation proved unusually difficult: exchanges with people I met elsewhere afterward went relatively smoothly. It felt less as though my Japanese was entirely inadequate than that my range of vocabulary was not yet broad enough. The experience made me want to study more words. Trying to speak the local language while traveling often brings moments like this, and they can become a motivation to keep learning.

The meaning behind the name Manekineko

I had not come to sing, but seeing the venue for Kano Miyu’s forthcoming fan meeting made the visit worthwhile in its own way. Looking at the space before the performance let me imagine the atmosphere on the day a little more clearly.

A Shinkansen ticket for Osaka

After dinner in Shibuya, my Turkish friend and I continued talking about what came next. He planned to travel around Japan for more than a month, but was still considering his next destination. As we talked, we concluded that Osaka would be a good choice for the following day, and headed to Shibuya Station to buy a Shinkansen ticket.

Finding the ticket office in Shibuya Station

Inside the station, near the subway platforms, I asked a member of staff where we could buy a Shinkansen ticket. They pointed toward the ticket office and explained that we could buy one farther back. We followed those directions, but Shibuya Station is complicated enough to make navigation difficult for a first-time visitor. A small wrong turn can quickly lead into another passage or down underground. As one of Tokyo’s busiest stations, it connects numerous passages and exits, and finding the way can feel like navigating a small maze on a first visit.

Buying the ticket at Shibuya Station

At the ticket office, we explained that we wanted a Shinkansen ticket from Shinagawa to Shin-Osaka. The staff handled the request readily, and communicating in English was no problem. Tokyo’s major stations see many overseas travelers, so staff able to assist in English are relatively common. With their help, we checked the departure time and seat and bought the ticket, confirming the route and time directly at the counter.

Where the Shibuya ticket office was

For Shinkansen tickets at Shibuya, we used the JR Shibuya Station ticket office. It could be found near the first-floor entrance to SHIBUYA SCRAMBLE SQUARE. The area around Shibuya Station has undergone extensive redevelopment in recent years, with the station layout continuing to change. Scramble Square, a large complex completed relatively recently, has become one of the station’s major landmarks. Once the Shinkansen ticket was arranged, my Turkish friend’s onward journey had taken clearer shape. We were ready to head back out into Shibuya and continue to the next place.

Walking from Shibuya toward Harajuku

After parting with my Turkish friend in Shibuya, I still had a little time that felt too precious to spend going straight back to my room. I was tired after a day of moving around, but since I had come as far as Shibuya, I wanted to walk a little more. Without choosing a particular destination, I set off toward Harajuku.

The route between the two is one of Tokyo’s livelier stretches, lined with shopping complexes, cafés, and all sorts of stores, with people passing even at night. I walked slowly without a plan and eventually passed a pedestrian bridge. At that moment, something in the view felt familiar. I could not immediately place it, but after stopping and looking around again, I realized this was somewhere that appeared in Kano Miyu’s HELLO TOKYO music video.

A filming location found by chance

I had watched the video many times, and the scene came back naturally. I decided to explore nearby and look for the places that had appeared in it. Walking around, I found quite a few spots resembling the scenes I remembered. The arrangement of buildings and the shape of the streets were much as they looked on screen, making them fairly easy to recognize. There was one disappointment, though.

A pedestrian bridge that featured memorably in the video happened to be under construction. Taking a photograph from exactly the same angle was therefore difficult. Even so, seeing the atmosphere of the location with my own eyes made the moment worthwhile. Travel sometimes offers these accidental discoveries, and they can leave a stronger memory precisely because I never expected them.

Discovering Miyashita Park

I naturally went inside the building. This was more than a park: it combined a shopping complex with a park above. Various shops filled the interior, and escalators led up toward the rooftop green space. Finding a park built on a roof in the middle of the city intrigued me. Once upstairs, I discovered fairly extensive walking paths and places to rest on top of the building.

A place to pause within the city

From the rooftop park, I could look out over the city and feel Shibuya’s streets continuing between the buildings. It was nighttime, but more people than I expected were spending time there. On one side, a pop-up shop sold merchandise for Japan’s World Baseball Classic team.

At the time I had no idea that WBC games were being played at Tokyo Dome, so for a moment I wondered why the shop was there. Looking back, Tokyo must have been strongly caught up in the tournament then, making a pop-up like this a natural presence. It was not a scene I would ordinarily encounter, and seeing it during the trip was interesting in its own right.

The two pedestrian bridges across the park

Two pedestrian bridges connected with the Miyashita Park building, crossing the roads and linking the park with the surrounding streets. One, which had looked like a filming location from the video, was under construction, so I could not explore that side properly. I went onto the other bridge instead and found a striking view toward Shibuya.

Streets running between buildings and the surrounding lights combined into a scene with Tokyo’s distinctive urban character. Looking toward Shibuya Station from that bridge was especially atmospheric. I stood for a while, taking in the view and making a few photographs.

A filming crew I happened to encounter

While I was watching the view from the bridge, I noticed a team setting up filming equipment nearby. I could not tell exactly what they were shooting, but several people were preparing cameras and other equipment and carrying out a shoot.

A moment that stayed with me

Choosing to walk a little farther instead of returning straight to my room from Shibuya led me to several unexpected places. I happened upon a location from Kano Miyu’s music video and discovered Miyashita Park for the first time. I might have passed the building assuming it was simply a shopping mall, but upstairs was the intriguing surprise of a park in the city. Miyashita Park remained with me as one of those discoveries.

Setting off from Shibuya toward Harajuku

After exploring Miyashita Park, I decided to walk a little farther instead of going straight back to my accommodation. The night was deepening, but Shibuya’s streets were still busy, keeping their particular Tokyo energy. Without setting a destination, I continued slowly toward Harajuku. The route between them is well known, with shopping complexes, cafés, and all sorts of stores. It is popular with visitors too, leaving it relatively lively even at night.

I thought I remembered walking here on an earlier Tokyo trip. Coming along it again brought back small impressions of familiar views. No particular scene returned clearly, but I had a natural sense of having passed this way before. This time I walked more slowly and looked around again, taking photographs of shop signs and street lighting, letting the atmosphere of Tokyo at night settle into my eyes as I went.

Tokyo’s night streets beneath a round moon

As I walked, I suddenly noticed the sky. Among city buildings and lights, I do not often look up properly, but that night it seemed unusually bright. I stopped for a moment and raised my head. A very round moon was hanging above me. Perhaps that was why Tokyo’s streets felt a little brighter than usual. The moon among the neon signs and streetlights created a curious mood: the city’s artificial light mingling with natural moonlight. That part of my walk from Shibuya toward Harajuku remained as one of the night’s scenes.

An earlier journey returns at Harajuku Station

Walking slowly, I eventually reached the area around Harajuku Station. From Shibuya it is about fifteen minutes on foot, though taking photographs and strolling had made it longer for me. My first thought outside the station was how much it had changed. When I first visited in 2018, Harajuku Station had an old-fashioned atmosphere.

I remembered its small, wooden-looking building making a strong impression. Now that appearance was entirely different. The station had been rebuilt in a much larger, more polished form, and the surroundings felt more neatly arranged too. I stood outside for a while, looking around. Seeing how the same place had changed with time naturally brought back memories of earlier visits, one after another.

Remembering as I walk through the night

Outside Harajuku Station, several memories surfaced together: coming here on my first Tokyo trip in 2018, then passing through on another visit in 2019. A more recent memory followed too, of visiting this neighborhood in 2025 for Kano Miyu’s performance at Harajuku RUIDO. The city and the streets were the same, but the circumstances and feelings of each visit differed. Returning after time has passed can make even a familiar place feel entirely new.

That was how it felt outside Harajuku Station that night. I was simply walking along a Tokyo street, yet several journeys and their memories overlapped within it. The walk from Shibuya to Harajuku became more than a way of getting somewhere. It remained a quiet span of time in which the memories of earlier trips joined the journey I was making now.

A Harry Potter shop found by chance in Harajuku

As I walked slowly from Shibuya toward Harajuku, all kinds of shops continued along both sides of the street. Harajuku has many individual, strongly themed stores, and wandering there often turns up unexpected places. Walking without a fixed destination lets them catch my attention naturally. Looking at the streets as I went, I noticed a familiar logo through a building’s glass.

Closer up, it was a shop selling Harry Potter merchandise. The films and books are famous, of course, but in Korea I rarely stumble upon a dedicated themed shop like this in the street, so I naturally stopped. Japanese shops devoted to animation, films, and characters are often carefully realized, and even this store’s exterior felt different from an ordinary souvenir shop. Through the windows I could see decorations recalling the Harry Potter world; the entire shop seemed designed as a single themed space.

Arriving just before closing

I went toward the entrance, wondering whether I could look around briefly. Then I checked the time: 8:59 p.m. The opening-hours notice said the shop closed at 9:00, so I had effectively arrived at the last moment. The staff already seemed to be tidying up, making it difficult to go in.

I never entered, but I could look at some of the merchandise through the glass. The display cases held products inspired by different elements of the series, including recreations of iconic film items and goods with a distinctly Japanese character-merchandise style. The shop was larger than I expected, and I imagined there would be plenty to see inside.

Apparently this official Harry Potter store had opened in Harajuku relatively recently. It was conceived as a flagship space based on that world, rather than a little shop selling souvenirs. I learned that the interior also included areas recreating the films’ atmosphere and places for photographs.

Somewhere to return to

In the end, I could not explore the interior on this visit. Still, simply discovering a shop like this in Harajuku felt worthwhile. Places found by chance sometimes become destinations on a later journey. That evening I took a few photographs of the merchandise visible through the windows and continued along the street. If I return to Harajuku, I thought, it would be nice to leave enough time to go inside and browse at leisure.

From Harajuku back to Ikebukuro

After looking around Harajuku’s night streets for a while, I took the train back to Ikebukuro. My accommodation lay northwest of the station, so I naturally came out through the west exit. Ikebukuro is one of Tokyo’s busiest stations, and even at that late hour people were still passing through the surrounding streets. Beyond the ticket gates and west exit, a broad, plaza-like space opened in front of me: Ikebukuro West Gate Park, maintained by Toshima City.

Immediately outside the station, it looked like an urban park where people might pause or arrange to meet. I remembered passing it once during the day, but at night the atmosphere looked different. I stopped and decided to explore the interior slowly. A park in central Tokyo might bring a little patch of greenery to mind, but this felt closer to a city square.

GLOBAL RING at the heart of the park

A round structure stood in the center. Close up, I saw its name: GLOBAL RING. True to that name, a circular ring seemed to embrace the middle of the park, serving as its focal point. It felt less like a decorative structure than the symbol of the whole space.

I learned that the park had been extensively renewed in 2019 to encourage cultural activity in Ikebukuro. What had once been a simple city park had become a cultural square for performances and events, and GLOBAL RING was a symbolic part of that transformation. Beneath it was a small stage area, apparently arranged to accommodate lighting and sound equipment.

Music and other events are indeed held here, including street performances and cultural activities during the day or on weekends. Looking around, I had wondered whether this was the kind of place where performances took place on weekend afternoons. That, it turned out, was exactly one of its roles.

Ikebukuro’s park at night

I walked through briefly and took a few photographs. It was not a particularly large park, but it felt well ordered for a space in the middle of the city. Light spilling from the surrounding buildings mingled with the park lighting to create Tokyo’s particular urban atmosphere. During the day it had seemed a fairly ordinary city park; at night its mood was distinctly different.

The building lights and park lights together made it look more like the Tokyo nightscape people often imagine. I stood for a while, photographing it. Tokyo offers scenes like this often: spaces that seem unremarkable by day can take on an entirely different mood after dark. It is a city where the same place can feel quite different between day and night.

Like the last scene of the day

After photographing the park, I resumed walking toward my accommodation. I had begun at Haneda, traveled around Ikebukuro, Shibuya, and Harajuku, and finally returned to Ikebukuro. Passing through the park on the way to my room felt like a final scene gathering the day together. I had already passed it in daylight, yet returning at night let me feel a little more of Tokyo’s character. Ikebukuro West Gate Park remained in my memory as more than a park outside a station: it was the last view that brought this Tokyo day to a close.

One last convenience-store stop before my room

After taking the train from Harajuku back to Ikebukuro, I decided to look around nearby for a moment rather than go straight inside. A whole day of moving through many places had left me tired, but stopping at a convenience store for something to eat before ending a day abroad felt like a small pleasure. Walking near my accommodation, I found a 7-Eleven.

Convenience-store visits come naturally when traveling in Japan; at night, they can be the easiest places to use. I went in to choose a few things to eat. I was spending the evening alone, but wanted my first night in an actual room on this journey to feel pleasant. I decided to take some simple food and drinks back with me.

A larger convenience store than expected

Inside, the shop was quite a bit larger than I expected. Japanese convenience stores tend to share a similar layout, though their size and selection differ. This one felt roomier than usual. The fruit and vegetable section particularly caught my eye.

Citrus resembling hallabong, the large, knobbly mandarins familiar in Korea, and tomatoes had their own displays, a sight less common in Korean convenience stores. I found it interesting and paused to look. It seemed almost like a small neighborhood supermarket. In Japan these shops often offer a wide range of everyday necessities rather than simply snacks, which perhaps made such a display feel natural here.

A little of the journey in a Japanese convenience store

I made a circuit of the shop and chose some simple things to eat. Japanese convenience stores neatly arrange boxed meals, triangular rice balls, and many kinds of snacks, making them useful for an uncomplicated meal during a trip. I selected a few easy items, paid, and prepared to return to my room. Nothing I bought was particularly special, but the act of picking up assorted food and taking it back felt like a small travel scene in its own right. After visiting so many places during the day, that convenience-store stop before returning to my accommodation felt like a final scene gathering the day together.

Morning on the third day in Tokyo

The third day of my Tokyo trip dawned. After ending the previous evening at my Ikebukuro accommodation, I got up and prepared to check out. My mornings while traveling tend to be simple: leave the room, eat something nearby, and head to the next part of the day.

This morning too, I put my things in order and pulled my suitcase out onto the streets north of Ikebukuro Station to find breakfast. I had no particular craving, so I looked for somewhere straightforward. In Japan, one easy choice at a time like this is a gyudon chain such as Yoshinoya. The meal is quick and the price relatively modest, making it a useful option for breakfast during a trip.

Upstairs with my suitcase

This Yoshinoya occupied two floors. When I entered, there were seats downstairs, but most were already taken. With my suitcase, I would have preferred the first floor, yet finding a free seat was difficult. In the end I carried the case upstairs.

The stairs made it a little cumbersome, but fortunately the second floor had plenty of space, and I could settle down to eat in relative comfort. Gyudon chains usually cater to solo customers eating quickly before leaving, so their seats are not particularly far apart. This branch’s upstairs area was larger than I expected, however, and keeping my suitcase beside me was not especially awkward.

Ordering on a tablet

At my seat I found a tablet for ordering. This seems increasingly common in Japanese chain restaurants. Where I once often ordered directly from a staff member, choosing dishes on a tablet is becoming an ordinary sight. This one supported several languages, including Korean and English, so ordering was straightforward.

I could study the menu slowly on screen and choose what I wanted, a convenient system for a visitor from abroad. After the order, staff prepared and brought the food, and I paid when it arrived. Many Japanese restaurants take payment after the meal, but advance payment like this is also common at chains.

A filling breakfast

I chose the special breakfast menu. It cost about ¥600, a little more than a regular beef bowl. The rice and side dishes made it more filling than I had expected, though, just as a breakfast set should be. Several simple accompaniments came with the rice, a good combination for a morning meal on a trip. I had stayed out late and traveled a lot the day before, and the hot meal helped my body feel a little more at ease.

Another day of the journey begins

Finishing breakfast made it feel as though the third day’s Tokyo itinerary was properly beginning. Where and how I start a day can subtly shape its mood while traveling. After this simple meal on Ikebukuro’s morning streets, I set off again to discover new places through the day.

After breakfast at Yoshinoya, I headed for the next part of the day. There was one means of transport I had wanted to try the day before: the Tokyo Sakura Tram. My plans had run late and I had missed the opportunity, so today I deliberately made time for it. My next accommodation was near Asakusa, and purely for getting there, a regular train would have been far quicker and easier.

But I wanted more to experience one of Tokyo’s few remaining streetcars, and chose the tram on purpose. I went to Higashi-Ikebukuro-yonchome stop to board. It lies around the middle of the route, amid an ordinary neighborhood of houses and shops. There was no grand station building, only a small platform beside the road.

The Toden Arakawa Line, or Sakura Tram

The Tokyo Sakura Tram is the line formerly known simply as the Toden Arakawa Line, Tokyo’s municipal Arakawa streetcar line. Tokyo once had many tram routes, but most disappeared as the city developed and the subway expanded. This Arakawa route remains in operation from the old Toden network. More recently, the name Tokyo Sakura Tram has been used alongside it to give visitors a friendlier image of the line.

Boarding at Higashi-Ikebukuro-yonchome

After a short wait at the stop, I saw a little tram slowly approaching in the distance. Compared with an ordinary train it was much smaller and slower, almost toy-like on first sight. Closer up, though, it had more substance than I expected, and the interior was reasonably spacious. When the doors opened, people stepped aboard naturally. I had expected plenty of tourists, but instead saw more local people using it for everyday transport: students, older passengers, and residents who looked as though they were returning from shopping.

In central Tokyo, subways and JR trains dominate, but along this route I could feel that the tram remained part of daily life. There were more people inside than I expected. Most seats were occupied, with quite a few standing too. Students and older people were especially noticeable, perhaps traveling between nearby schools and residential neighborhoods.

Moving slowly between the houses

As the tram set off, Tokyo’s scenery began to drift past. Speed was the greatest difference from an ordinary train. Subways and JR lines move relatively quickly; the streetcar travels much more slowly, leaving time to watch the view. What particularly struck me was how directly it passed through residential neighborhoods.

Ordinary homes stood beside the tracks, with small shops continuing along them. In some places the stop was immediately outside a shop. Such scenes are now difficult to find in Korea, making them all the more intriguing. The stops were not imposing structures, but seemed naturally woven into everyday surroundings.

Some were literally beside a house, others in front of little stores, as casually placed as neighborhood bus stops. Looking at them felt almost like briefly traveling into the past. Tokyo is a world metropolis, yet an older form of transport still remains within it. I found that fascinating.

A little rest on the tram

I had rested at Kankokukan the night before, but fatigue from the first airport night and the continuous traveling still lingered. Sitting on the tram, I grew drowsy for a while. I closed my eyes briefly, then came back to myself a few stops later. It occurred to me that the view might be better from the rear, so I got up and moved toward the back.

Standing at the end of the carriage, I had a wider view through the windows and could see the passing streets more clearly. Watching Tokyo’s neighborhoods from the slow-moving tram was more enjoyable than I expected. Unlike the tall buildings of central Tokyo, this route passed through areas of lower buildings and homes. It felt like seeing another side of the city.

Arriving at Minowabashi

After passing many stops, the tram reached Minowabashi, the end of the line. Small shops gathered around the stop in a relatively quiet neighborhood. We had passed quite a few stops since Higashi-Ikebukuro-yonchome, but the slow ride had not made the journey feel long. More than anything, it felt like time in which I could watch the neighborhoods at leisure.

I had thought streetcars were almost gone from Tokyo, so actually riding one was an interesting experience. In a city with so many fast, efficient transport options, trying something slower brought another pleasure to the journey. For a little while aboard that gently moving tram, I felt I had experienced Tokyo keeping another kind of time.

My second accommodation on this Tokyo trip was Vessel Inn Asakusa Tsukuba Express. As the name suggests, it is near the Tsukuba Express line, and relatively close to Asakusa’s sights, making it a place many travelers use. Its location did have a slightly awkward side. Asakusa is popular with visitors, but this hotel was not immediately outside a major subway station; even the nearest station required a little walking.

In terms of transport access alone, there was room for improvement. Yet that also helped make it satisfying for the price. My booking for a two-person room cost ₩106,337, which felt very reasonable for a room of this standard in Tokyo. Hotels around Asakusa can be expensive because of the neighborhood’s popularity, and against that background this seemed a sensible choice.

A compact but tidy hotel

The hotel itself was smaller than I expected. It did not have the broad lobby or large building of a major chain property, but gave a strong impression of being small and well maintained. It reflected the compact arrangement typical of Japanese hotels. On entering the first floor, I found the lobby and lounge immediately, with the breakfast restaurant alongside.

The mood was calm, and it felt like somewhere serving business travelers as well as tourists. The welcome drinks particularly appealed to me. From 2:00 p.m. to 11:00 p.m., guests could help themselves to coffee and other machine-dispensed drinks in the lounge. Japanese hotels sometimes offer these simple refreshments, and small services like that feel especially welcome while traveling.

Check-in and a small welcome gift

I reached the hotel around two in the afternoon and approached the desk intending to ask whether I could leave my luggage. Unexpectedly, I was told I could check in immediately, presumably because the room was already ready. Checking in around two was a welcome surprise. Having been on the move, I was a little tired, and being able to go straight to the room was especially pleasing.

At check-in, the staff invited me to choose a small gift from several options, including beer, soft drinks, and snacks. I hardly drink alcohol myself, but an acquaintance would be staying with me and enjoyed it, so I chose beer. Little welcome gifts like this are another occasional Japanese hotel service that can make a traveler’s day a bit nicer.

Picking up amenities downstairs

Another feature was that amenities were not all placed in the room beforehand; guests collected them themselves on the first floor. This arrangement is increasingly common in Japanese hotels, allowing people to take only what they need and reducing waste. The amenities corner had quite a selection: toothbrushes, razors, cotton swabs, facial cleanser, lotion, and other simple skincare products.

I could choose the items and quantities I needed before going upstairs. On a journey, a corner like this can feel quite convenient. When several people stay together, their needs differ, so a system offering a choice can be more practical.

A room on the third floor

My room was on the third floor. I took the elevator, walked down the corridor, and opened the door onto a typical Japanese business-hotel layout. It was not spacious. I had expected the small dimensions common to city hotels in Japan, but stepping inside still made me appreciate how efficiently the space was used.

Alongside the beds were a small desk and chair, with just enough room to open a suitcase. Compact though it was, everything felt orderly, and I did not find it uncomfortable. I especially liked the indoor clothes provided for guests. Many Japanese hotels offer these, and they are more useful during a journey than one might expect: comfortable to put on for a brief rest or after a shower.

A base for exploring Asakusa

Compared with a hotel immediately outside a subway station, the access could be a little disappointing. Yet the condition of the accommodation for the price was thoroughly satisfactory. Its clean upkeep and quiet atmosphere, characteristic of Japanese hotels, made it feel like somewhere I could rest comfortably during the journey. Unpacking at my second accommodation in Asakusa left me ready to continue the next part of the trip. After sleeping in Ikebukuro the night before and traveling again, simply setting down my luggage in a new room made everything feel easier.

Asakusa’s well-known matcha ice cream shop

After leaving my luggage and resting briefly, I headed toward Asakusa again. There are many sights nearby, but one place in particular had long been on my own list: Suzukien, famous for matcha ice cream made with finely powdered green tea. It is a well-known matcha dessert shop in Japan and a popular destination for visitors to Asakusa.

There was a reason I had never been despite several Tokyo trips. Its opening hours were relatively short, and it closed early enough that even a small delay in the day made visiting difficult. On previous journeys I had come close more than once without managing to stop. Staying near Asakusa this time gave me more room in the schedule, and at last an opportunity to visit.

Matcha desserts on the first floor

The shop occupied two floors. On entering downstairs, I immediately saw the ice cream counter, with matcha-related products arranged around it. Green tea powder, tea products, matcha sweets, and assorted gifts mingled the atmosphere of a traditional Japanese tea shop with that of a tourist souvenir store. Its particular claim to fame is the ability to choose the intensity of the matcha ice cream. Unlike ordinary green tea ice cream, it comes in seven strengths, numbered one to seven. Each step brings a richer matcha taste and aroma.

Ordering a combination of two flavors

I could choose a single flavor or combine two, including two different matcha strengths. Prices varied by selection, from around ¥550 to ¥950. There was also a choice of cone or small cup. A cone was convenient to eat like ordinary ice cream, while a cup seemed to show the matcha colors more clearly. Several people were already queued outside, many of them visitors from abroad. Asakusa draws plenty of tourists anyway, but the shop’s own reputation seemed to keep a steady stream coming.

The gallery upstairs

After buying the ice cream, I could take it upstairs to eat. Rather than a café crowded with seating, the second floor was arranged more like a gallery. Tea-related decorations and pictures hung on the walls, and the interior emphasized a traditional Japanese atmosphere. It was not large, but sufficient for a brief pause over ice cream. Walking around tourist areas often makes me want to sit down for a moment, and I appreciated having this space. Looking toward the window as I ate, I could see a little of Asakusa’s streets. Visitors kept passing and the nearby shops remained lively.

A matcha dessert in Asakusa

The matcha aroma in the ice cream was stronger than I expected. Its flavor was much deeper than ordinary green tea ice cream, with matcha’s characteristic slight bitterness. It felt like ice cream that preserved the taste of tea rather than a dessert offering sweetness alone.

Asakusa is famous for Sensoji and Nakamise shopping street, but it also has plenty of shops known for matcha desserts. Suzukien stands out for its choice of strengths. Finally visiting somewhere I had missed on several Tokyo trips felt like accomplishing a small personal goal. It struck me as a pleasant place to stop for matcha ice cream and a rest while walking around Asakusa.

Returning to one of Tokyo’s defining sights

After Suzukien, I naturally continued to Sensoji in Asakusa. There are places I return to repeatedly when visiting Tokyo, and Sensoji is perhaps the clearest example. My first visit was quite some time ago, and I have stopped here on several journeys since. I remember coming in 2018, returning in 2024, and visiting again in 2025. This was 2026, making yet another return. I came on a Friday afternoon, but even on a weekday the grounds were full of people. Alongside Japanese visitors were many travelers from abroad, with the mixture of Asian and Western tourists particularly noticeable.

Asakusa Shrine, the Shinto shrine beside Sensoji

Asakusa’s kimono and rickshaw scenery

Walking around Sensoji brings Asakusa’s particular scenes into view. Among the most noticeable are visitors in kimono and other traditional Japanese clothes. Numerous rental shops now make it common to see tourists walking through Asakusa dressed this way. In the surrounding streets I also saw people sightseeing by rickshaw.

The pullers wore traditional outfits and guided their passengers through the neighborhood. It is a distinctive scene associated with Japan’s traditional sightseeing districts. Watching them, Asakusa felt like more than a place to visit a temple: it was also a space for experiencing traditional Japanese culture. Souvenir stores and traditional snack shops lined the streets, while the clothes and rickshaws together created their own atmosphere.

The incense smoke at Sensoji’s jokoro

One of the first things to catch the eye inside the grounds is the large incense burner. It is called the jokoro, a burner where incense is kept alight. Visitors light incense here and often waft its smoke toward themselves. In Japan, receiving the smoke is associated with health and good fortune.

People stood before the burner gathering smoke with their hands and drawing it toward their heads or bodies. Some direct it toward their head for a headache or toward whichever part of the body hurts. The smoke drifted slowly across Sensoji’s forecourt, seeming to deepen the calm particular to a temple. Visitors paused to take pictures or draw the smoke toward themselves, making this a small moment within their visit.

Asakusa Shrine beside Sensoji

After exploring Sensoji, I returned to Asakusa Shrine immediately next door. The two stand close together, but belong to different religious traditions: Sensoji is Buddhist, while Asakusa Shrine belongs to Shinto, Japan’s indigenous faith. On an earlier visit, I had left an ema, a wooden plaque on which visitors write wishes and hang them at the shrine. This time I wondered whether it might still be there and looked for it.

It had already gone. I imagined that the plaques were cleared away after a certain time; shrines sometimes gather them periodically and burn them in a ritual. Still, I felt that the wish I had written had come true to some degree. That left me with a little sense that it might have worked. Journeys sometimes bring these small memories back, and Asakusa Shrine returned one of them to me.

Still crowded, however often I return

I have been to Sensoji many times, yet I keep coming back. Tokyo has all kinds of sights, but this is one of the places where I most strongly feel a Japanese atmosphere. Even on a weekday afternoon, people moved continually through the grounds, photographing or praying. Visitors passed along Nakamise shopping street toward the main hall, experiencing one of the familiar scenes of a journey in Japan.

Returning many times and finding a subtly different mood each time is part of the interest. Travel does not always mean seeking new places. Revisiting somewhere I know and recalling an earlier memory brings its own pleasure. This time too, I spent a little while returning to Sensoji and Asakusa Shrine.

A walk from Sensoji to the Sumida River

After Sensoji and Asakusa Shrine, I naturally headed toward a nearby park. Asakusa draws crowds around the temple, but a short walk brings quieter paths and parks. Sumida Park, stretching along the river, is well known among visitors to the area. I had wanted to walk here on an earlier Tokyo journey, but a tight schedule had left time only for Sensoji before I had to leave. This time I decided to make room for the river. A short walk from the temple brought the Sumida into view, with well-kept paths and parkland around it, a pleasant setting for taking the scenery slowly.

Skytree and the Asahi Beer buildings

As I approached the river, Tokyo Skytree appeared across the water, its long tower rising above the landscape. Asakusa offers a relatively close view, and many people photograph it from here. An unusually shaped building stood across the river too. From a distance, its golden sculpture on the roof immediately drew the eye. This was the Asahi Beer Hall in the headquarters complex, topped by the sculpture called Flamme d’Or.

It is meant to represent a blazing flame, though tourists sometimes jokingly call it a golden pile of poop. Around Asakusa, I occasionally saw visitors pointing toward it and laughing. Across the Sumida I could also see Azumabashi Bridge. Its name felt oddly familiar, perhaps because I had encountered it before in information about traveling in Japan.

Cherry blossoms I had not expected

The date was March 6. Tokyo’s main cherry blossom season usually falls between late March and early April, so I had assumed there would be little to see this early. I had not come to the park expecting blossoms. Yet as I walked, I found flowers already open on a few trees.

Those early blooms stood out: on some trees they were only just beginning, while others carried more flowers than I had imagined. It was hardly full bloom, but coming upon unexpected cherry blossoms felt like receiving a small gift. Sumida Park is known as a blossom-viewing spot in season, with cherry trees along the river drawing many visitors when they flower.

Scenes along the riverside path

Walking slowly beside the water, I noticed gulls gathering in one place. At first I wondered why so many birds had collected there. Looking more closely, I saw a woman feeding them. That explained the crowd. Their flight toward the food was striking, and I took photographs from a distance. Little scenes like this appeared along the river, bringing a sense of ease quite different from the bustle of the tourist streets. The riverside path was well maintained, with benches here and there, making it pleasant to pause and sit during a walk.

Time for a little rest

The weather was excellent that day: a clear sky and a fairly warm temperature, just right for walking. Rather than hurry onward, I followed the river slowly and watched the surroundings. I also sat on a bench for a while, looking over the Sumida. Boats passed on the water, and the distant view of Tokyo Skytree was striking too. Making time to walk beside a river and feel this kind of ease struck me as an important part of a journey. After that little walk and pause in Sumida Park, I turned back toward Asakusa’s streets and continued to the next place.

A temple found on the way to Imado Shrine

After spending a little time in Sumida Park, I set off for my next destination, Imado Shrine. Walking slowly along the riverside path and taking in the view, I noticed somewhere unexpected: Matsuchiyama Shoden temple. It had not been part of my plans. Travel often reveals places on the way to an intended destination, and this was one of them.

At first I considered passing by. I had already explored Sensoji and Sumida Park, and another stop might put me behind schedule. But going a little farther in, I reached the place for prayer before the main hall and noticed a curious sight. Radishes were laid out as offerings.

I had seen sake, rice, and other offerings at Japanese temples and shrines, but never so many radishes. Many people had already placed radishes before the main hall and were making wishes. I found the scene striking. Although I had meant to pass by, leaving without stopping now felt like a missed opportunity. I decided to buy a radish myself, offer it, and make a wish.

The unusual custom of offering radishes

Inside the temple, I saw plenty of people presenting radishes. Initially, the number laid out puzzled and intrigued me. Offerings of sake and rice are familiar sights in Japan, but so many radishes are less common. Looking around, I learned that the radish carries a symbolic meaning here, and that a tradition of offering it with prayers for health and good fortune has continued.

My first impulse had been to pass by, but now I felt reluctant to leave without taking part. I bought one as an offering. Radishes for this purpose were sold near the temple for about ¥300. I placed mine down, tossed in a five-yen coin, and made a simple wish. Travel can bring opportunities to pray in places I never expected. This was not somewhere I had planned to visit, yet small experiences like this sometimes remain longer in memory.

Offerings shared again

Another interesting detail was that the radishes, once offered, were made available for people to take away. In one corner they had been gathered together, with plastic bags set out alongside. As a traveler, however, I had no real use for one. I could not cook at my accommodation, so I simply looked and moved on. Even so, seeing this distinctive scene firsthand made an impression.

A position overlooking the Sumida

Matsuchiyama Shoden stands on a small hill. Going a little farther up within the grounds gave me a view over the surroundings. Toward the front, the Sumida River opened out below, with Tokyo Skytree in the distance and sightseeing boats passing on the water. Asakusa is busy with visitors, but I enjoyed finding that such quiet spaces existed just a short distance away. It was calmer than the crowds around Sensoji. I stood for a little while and watched the river.

Matsuchiyama Shoden and its radish offerings

This temple is particularly known for its tradition of offering daikon, the large white radish. It does not receive the tourist crowds of Sensoji, but walking around Asakusa can lead to quieter temples like this. Though unexpected, it struck me as a memorable place for a brief visit during the journey. After looking around, I set off again toward Imado Shrine, my original destination.

Continuing from Matsuchiyama Shoden

After Matsuchiyama Shoden, I continued to my next destination, Imado Shrine. The timing had been on my mind: I understood that shrine visits ended at four in the afternoon, and wondered whether arriving late might mean I could not enter. I had wanted to come here since an earlier Tokyo trip, but had never managed to fit it into the schedule. Being near Asakusa this time, I had decided I would finally visit. Fortunately, it was not far from Matsuchiyama Shoden, and a short walk brought me there.

A shrine for bringing people together

Perhaps because of that reputation, one thing caught my attention as I looked around: there were many women among the visitors. Groups who appeared to be friends were exploring the shrine together. It stood on level ground rather than a hill, making it relatively easy to visit. It was no large attraction like the area around Sensoji, but had a quiet, intimate atmosphere instead.

A place associated with the beckoning cat

I noticed stories connecting the shrine with maneki-neko, the familiar beckoning-cat figures. Yet what remained clearest that day was less reading about their origins than the cat decorations scattered around and the place for writing wishes. I had finally entered somewhere I had missed on an earlier journey because the timing had not worked. With the small satisfaction of reaching a place I had long wanted to see, I explored the grounds slowly.

Hanging an ema and making a wish

I too decided to buy an ema and write a wish. Writing wishes on these wooden plaques and hanging them at a Japanese shrine can be a pleasant experience during a journey. What I liked at Imado was the well-arranged space for doing so. At some shrines I have had to write standing up, but here there were chairs, tables, and pens, allowing me to write comfortably.

As I began, a thought came to me. I had made various wishes at several places on this trip, but here I wrote something with a slightly different meaning: I hoped that the connections already woven into my life would continue. Quietly setting that feeling down on the plaque, I left my wish that those good bonds would carry on into the future.

A shrine full of cat decorations

Exploring a little farther, I found a tree hung with cat ornaments. The little beckoning cats hanging together gave it an atmosphere different from other shrines. Of all the shrines I had visited, this one felt the most suffused with a rosy warmth. Perhaps because it is associated with bringing people together, the whole place felt brighter and gentler. It lacked the scale and splendor of Sensoji’s surroundings, but small shrines have an atmosphere all their own. I had come after the accidental stop at Matsuchiyama Shoden, and found Imado an engaging place to visit while walking around Asakusa.

After making a circuit of the Asakusa area, I decided to return to my accommodation for a little rest. I had walked quite a lot, and visiting Sensoji, Sumida Park, and several shrines and temples had taken more energy than I expected. Before going straight to the hotel, I stopped at a convenience store nearby to buy a few simple things to eat.

In Japan, these stops become almost an essential part of a journey. Not far from the hotel I found Lawson Taito Asakusa 3-chome. It was relatively close to Sensoji, and not far from Suzukien, where I had eaten matcha ice cream earlier. Perhaps because of its position in a tourist area, the store was larger than I expected.

An inevitable part of traveling in Japan

Japan’s convenience-store culture interests me every time I visit. Korea has plenty of convenience stores too, but I find the Japanese selection of food broader, with many dishes good enough for a simple meal. Inside were the expected displays: sandwiches, triangular rice balls, boxed meals, and a wide range of desserts and snacks. There are also distinctive items I only encounter in Japanese convenience stores, making the shelves entertaining simply to browse.

A little bakery inside the convenience store

One thing that stood out here was a separate area that looked almost like a small bakery or boxed-meal shop. Bread and simple foods were sold at relatively modest prices, with a feeling a little different from the standard packaged convenience-store goods. The bread display naturally drew my eye. Its prices were less daunting than I expected, and I imagined it would be a useful place for local residents to pick up breakfast or a small snack.

Back to the hotel with a few snacks

It was still a little early for dinner. I chose some bread, drinks, and a few snacks and paid. Payment at Japanese convenience stores tends to be quick and simple, another reason they are easy places to visit briefly while traveling. Carrying the food back in a bag, I found the route relatively peaceful. Asakusa’s streets, crowded with visitors during the day, were gradually quieting as evening approached. With my simple purchases, I returned to the hotel to rest for a while.

After resting at the hotel, I went out again. An acquaintance was due to join me there that evening, originally at seven. As the time approached, however, I could not get in touch; all I had received was a message saying they would be later. With no clear arrival time, continuing to wait near the hotel felt awkward. I thought I might look around somewhere else for a while. I had explored Asakusa thoroughly during the day, so I considered somewhere different for a brief visit. Akihabara came naturally to mind. It was not far from Asakusa, and it was somewhere I often stopped when visiting Tokyo.

Taking the train from Iriya

To reach Akihabara, I headed to Iriya Station, relatively close to my accommodation. Served by the Tokyo Metro Hibiya Line, it lies in a fairly quiet neighborhood between Asakusa and Ueno. It is not especially popular with tourists, but felt like a station serving everyday life among homes and small shops. Inside, I looked around while waiting for the train.

Tokyo’s stations often share similar structures, yet their different atmospheres interest me. Iriya was not large, but was neatly kept. Perhaps because it was the evening commute, office workers and students were waiting too. A few stops on the train brought me to Akihabara. The short journey made it a useful destination for passing a little time.

Tokyo Metro Akihabara, apart from the JR station

On most Tokyo visits, I had reached Akihabara on JR lines. The Yamanote or Keihin-Tohoku Line brings passengers directly into the station’s main area, so that was the route I knew. Arriving this time on the Hibiya Line, I found the station somewhere a little different from what I expected and felt briefly disoriented.

It is not entirely separate from JR Akihabara, but depending on the exit, the street can feel surprisingly out of the way. Experiences like this are another small pleasure of travel. Even in the same city, the line and station I use can reveal a completely different scene. It made me feel I was gradually getting to know a little more of a Tokyo I had assumed was familiar.

Learning a familiar city again

Travel sometimes brings new paths or unexpected views without any intention on my part. This short ride from Iriya to Akihabara was one of those small experiences. After the train journey, I set off toward Akihabara’s streets again.

After arriving in Akihabara, I was able to meet the acquaintance who had originally planned to join me at the hotel. We had intended to have dinner, but it was already much later than expected. At first I considered looking for somewhere nearby, yet I was not feeling particularly well. Perhaps because of the bread I had eaten from the convenience store, my stomach felt bloated and unsettled, almost as though I had indigestion.

Rather than force a meal, I thought a short walk might help. Journeys in Japan sometimes change course because of these unexpected circumstances. Yet those moments can also become another memory. We began walking slowly through Akihabara.

Taking the night streets slowly

Akihabara is lively by day and takes on another atmosphere after dark. Neon-lit streets and shops open late create Tokyo’s distinctive urban feeling. With electronics stores and anime shops concentrated here, plenty of people were still moving through the neighborhood at night. At first we meant only to walk briefly and turn back, but talking as we went gradually lengthened the route.

On a map, Akihabara and Ueno are not especially far apart. Without setting a destination, we eventually found ourselves heading toward Ueno. Tokyo may be huge, but it has a surprising number of stretches that can be covered on foot. Between Akihabara and Ueno, the route is relatively straight and quite manageable as a stroll.

Earlier trips return near Ameyoko

Our walk naturally brought us near Ueno’s Ameyoko shopping street. Running between Ueno and Okachimachi stations, this well-known shopping district preserves something of an older Tokyo market atmosphere. Even at night people continued passing, while the sounds of restaurants and shops kept it lively.

Walking through brought back memories of earlier trips. In 2019 I had eaten tonkatsu near Ameyoko, and remembered it as one of that journey’s more memorable meals. I also recalled shopping at the nearby Don Quijote on my 2025 visit. Familiar places sometimes call up what happened there before, and passing Ameyoko was exactly that sort of moment.

Putting dinner off and continuing to walk

Initially I thought we might eat among the restaurants near Ameyoko. The area has plenty of places to choose from, and had I felt even a little better, we probably would have stopped for dinner. My stomach remained uncomfortable, however. Instead of forcing myself to eat, I decided to walk some more, hoping movement might help my digestion and make me feel better. We continued beyond the shopping street and naturally headed toward Ueno Park. As the night deepened, the slow walk through Tokyo was making another scene of the journey.

Walking slowly from Akihabara eventually brought us to Ueno Park. The distance on a map was shorter than I expected, and although we had not set it as a destination, the entrance appeared before us. I remembered visiting Ueno several times, yet strangely I did not think I had ever walked properly inside the park itself. I decided to take this opportunity, even briefly.

The night was already deep, so there was no possibility of seeing as much as in daylight. Where tourists and residents fill the park by day, Ueno at night was relatively quiet. Paths continued beneath streetlights, with few footsteps and a slightly deserted feeling. That atmosphere, however, gave us time for a calm walk.

Ueno Park, one of Tokyo’s great parks

Cultural institutions such as Ueno Zoo, the Tokyo National Museum, and the National Museum of Western Art stand within the park, drawing many visitors during the day. It is also famous for cherry blossoms, when the whole park can fill with people. This evening, however, we saw its quiet side instead of that bustle. Feeling how greatly a place can differ between day and night was another pleasure of traveling.

A night scene above the railway

After making a circuit of the park, we walked out toward the east. On the route toward Ueno Station, I saw a bridge crossing the railway and went up briefly to look around. A train happened to pass at just that moment, with wonderful timing: I was able to photograph it as it moved along the tracks. Travel often yields these chance scenes. I had not planned the moment, yet a later look at the photograph can bring its atmosphere straight back. Tokyo’s extensive railway network makes trains an ordinary sight, but watching one pass through the night city still felt memorable.

Ending the day on Tokyo’s night streets

After taking photographs above the tracks, we set off toward the hotel again. There was still a little way to walk to our accommodation near Asakusa, and after being on foot so long my pace had slowed. Even so, walking quietly through Tokyo at night was pleasant. Daylight brings sights full of attractions and people; nighttime reveals a city with another mood.

That was how I brought this day to a close. Near the hotel my stomach was still uncomfortable, so I made one last stop at a nearby convenience store, bought a digestive medicine, and took it. I thought it might have been better to do that earlier. Still, afterward my stomach did begin to feel distinctly easier.

The last morning of my Tokyo trip arrived. I decided to eat breakfast at Vessel Inn Asakusa Tsukuba Express. At check-in I had learned that breakfast was available for an additional charge, and chose to begin the final day with an unhurried meal at the hotel. When booking, there had been plans with and without breakfast.

Our room rate did not include it, so we needed to pay separately. Breakfast cost ¥1,500 per person; we bought tickets at the first-floor reception before entering the restaurant. It was served in the downstairs lounge, the same space that offered welcome drinks during the day. In the morning, the tables were arranged for breakfast instead.

A buffet breakfast at the hotel

Breakfast ran from six until 9:30 a.m. We reached the dining room relatively late, around 8:45, apparently just when many other guests had arrived. Some dishes had already been heavily depleted. The buffet offered quite a variety, but several popular items were almost empty because of the crowd. The staff kept replenishing them, though on my first circuit with a plate I could not always take what I wanted immediately. After a short wait, the dishes were filled again, and I could try a little of several things.

The variety of a Japanese hotel breakfast

The selection was familiar from Japanese hotels, with both hot and cold dishes and a mixture of Japanese rice-and-side-dish options and Western foods. A meat dish particularly stayed in my mind. I cannot remember its exact name, but it was seasoned in a Japanese style and apparently popular: its plate emptied quickly.

There were seafood options such as sashimi and sushi, plus several accompaniments for hot white rice. Another area offered simple Western food such as pasta, alongside salad, fruit, and desserts. Japanese hotel breakfasts often combine the two styles in this way, and this one followed that pattern.

A hearty start to the final morning

I put different foods on my plate, sat down, and began eating slowly. Perhaps because I had walked so much the day before and this was the last day, breakfast felt especially sustaining. A buffet can make a satisfying travel meal by allowing a taste of many dishes. At ¥1,500, it was relatively modest by Japanese hotel-breakfast standards.

A more luxurious hotel might charge much more, of course, but having this variety for that price made it a reasonable choice. Finishing a leisurely breakfast at the hotel gradually gave me the sense that the final part of my Tokyo journey was beginning. The last morning’s meal always seems to retain a slightly special meaning.

After checking out, I gathered my luggage and went outside again. The trip’s final event was the performance in Shibuya, so that was where I needed to go. There are several ways to reach Shibuya from Asakusa, but the simplest was the Tokyo Metro Ginza Line. I had to walk a little from the hotel to Asakusa Station, yet the convenience of a direct ride to Shibuya made it worthwhile. I chose it without much hesitation. On the last day I had to carry my luggage with me, so avoiding a transfer was a considerable advantage.

The Ginza Line, Tokyo’s oldest subway

I entered Asakusa Station and went down to the Ginza Line platform. It is known as Tokyo Metro’s oldest line, first opened in 1927, and holds a symbolic place in the city’s subway history. Perhaps that was why its station layout and platform atmosphere felt a little distinctive beside other lines. During the ride, there were stretches where I could see outside and briefly take in different parts of Tokyo. The journey did not feel particularly long, and Shibuya arrived sooner than I expected.

Meeting Chikapi-san again at Shibuya Station

After arriving, I waited briefly on the platform and met my Japanese friend Chikapi-san. We had last seen each other in Seoul in January, making this our first reunion in a while. We sat near the platform and talked about all sorts of things. Meeting someone I know in their own country while traveling always feels a little special. Finding a friend in an unfamiliar city naturally brought a warm sense of welcome.

The photo album bought on my behalf

Kano Miyu’s photo album was another reason for meeting Chikapi-san. At the time it was difficult to buy directly from Korea, so I had asked for help purchasing it in Japan. Chikapi-san, who was there, had bought it for me. Buying the album in advance was also a condition for attending the special benefit session after this performance. That help made my participation possible. As we sat talking by the platform, I received the album and enjoyed a little breathing room before the show. Reuniting with Chikapi-san at Shibuya Station was how the last part of this Tokyo journey gradually began.

At last I attended Kano Miyu’s fan meeting, the main event of this Tokyo trip. It took place at Manekineko’s Shibuya main branch, and I had arranged to attend both sessions. They were originally scheduled to begin at noon and three in the afternoon, but admission took longer than expected and the actual starts were delayed a little. Although the venue was inside the karaoke establishment on the fourth floor, we did not simply go upstairs. Staff directed admission from the first floor, where participants gathered and waited before being called in according to their entry numbers.

Waiting to enter, and familiar fans

Several fans were already waiting when I arrived downstairs. I joined them naturally and recognized a few faces. Among them was Yoshitemp-san, who had given me an autographed ball at Kano Miyu’s birthday concert in Tokyo in November 2025. I heard that Yoshitemp-san had been unable to get a ticket for the first session. I had secured two, so I offered one and we entered together.

Following performances creates these chances for fans to help one another. Yoshitemp-san had also prepared a gift for the occasion. Although unable to find the exact snack Miyu had mentioned on the radio, they had found something similar and brought it along, giving me some too. Even a small preparation like that showed the care fans put into these occasions.

Entering by elevator

We lined up in entry-number order and took the elevator to the fourth floor, apparently to prevent everyone arriving at once. Boarding in turn brought us into the karaoke space that housed the event. The atmosphere among Miyu’s agency staff also felt much softer than at earlier performances. Some previous events had been run rather strictly, but this time their friendly guidance made an impression. It helped the whole occasion feel more comfortable.

A fan meeting in a karaoke space

The room had a stage and was arranged as an event space within the karaoke building. It differed from an ordinary karaoke room, with a small stage and room for around fifty seats. It was not large, but could function as a little live venue, making it suitable for a fan meeting or intimate performance.

The distance between seats and stage was especially short, creating a different atmosphere from a concert hall. I could see the singer’s expressions and smallest movements directly, much closer than in a conventional venue. That reinforced the sense of an event bringing Miyu and her fans together at close quarters.

Songs, conversation, and interaction formed the program. Several songs were performed, with time to talk to fans in between. It was no large concert stage, yet the dedicated platform gave it the atmosphere of a little live show. The karaoke setting also kept everything relatively relaxed, making the closeness of this fan meeting particularly memorable.

Drawing tickets for the special benefit session

At this fan meeting, the type of benefit after the show was allocated by a random draw. Options included filming a TikTok, taking a photo together, and getting an autograph. My first draw gave me a TikTok filming ticket and a two-shot photo ticket. Another fan wanted TikTok, so I exchanged mine for their photo ticket, leaving me with two photo opportunities. Then another fan had no two-shot ticket, so I exchanged one of mine for an autograph ticket. The combination changed along the way, and in the end I received an autograph after the first session and took a photo together after the second.

Session one: a program built around conversation

The first session began with conversation. An early Q&A read and answered questions fans had written beforehand, but the longer-than-expected admission process had left too little time to write them. Those with later entry numbers found the program starting almost as soon as they sat down, so fewer questions than expected made it onto the Q&A board. The smaller number meant that most of the submitted questions could be introduced. They were mainly light topics, maintaining the easy mood of a fan meeting.

Next came a conversation around recent photographs. Miyu showed pictures she had taken and talked about her everyday life. Several ice cream photos naturally led to a discussion of ice cream. Images from travels and ordinary daily moments kept the atmosphere comfortably relaxed.

The gift event

A gift giveaway followed, using a simple system. Slips bearing the same numbers assigned when tickets were purchased went into a box, and Miyu drew them herself. The audience member whose number was called came forward to receive a gift. There were autographed notebooks, and this time Miyu had also personally prepared snack gifts. These were little boxes containing chocolates and other treats. Their contents were not all identical; the snack combinations differed from box to box. Seeing which assortment someone received added a small shared amusement among the fans.

An acoustic performance

Later in the first session, Miyu sang while playing guitar herself. She performed Futari no Sekai, meaning A World for Two, and Re:Road. Although we were inside a karaoke building, the guitar set unfolded in a relatively quiet mood. Unlike a large concert, the closeness between stage and audience made it feel almost like sharing music in a small room.

The first session ended with the special benefit event. Fans who had bought the album in advance could receive an autograph, take a photo together, or film a TikTok. The draw determined the benefit, and I participated using the combination I had arranged through exchanges with other fans.

Session two: a different mood in Q&A

The second session followed a similar basic structure, but this time the Q&A had far more questions. There were too many to introduce them all, so only a selection received answers. Everyday topics came up. Asked about time at home, Miyu said she often ate while watching Korean dramas, naturally leading to talk of watching Korean content frequently. Asked about her favorite ice cream, she mentioned a vanilla cone, explaining that plain white vanilla was her favorite.

Among Korean foods she liked, she named meat dishes such as samgyeopsal, grilled pork belly, and bossam, boiled pork served with leaves for wrapping. Asked about eating before a show, she said she tended not to eat the day before or on the morning of a performance, then ate afterward. That was how she described managing her condition. Another interesting subject was milk: she said it did not agree with her, so she generally drank soy milk instead.

A little unexpected moment

A small incident arose during Q&A. A Korean fan had submitted a question in Korean. Miyu tried reading it but could not immediately understand the meaning. Natsuko, the MC, did not understand Korean either, and the program paused briefly.

Miyu looked toward the audience, then approached the front of the stage and showed the question directly to me. Sitting in the first row, I could see it right in front of my eyes. I briefly explained what it meant; once that was clear, she continued with her answer. It was unexpected, but possible precisely because this was a fan meeting in a small venue, a spontaneous moment that belonged to being there in person.

Performing with the karaoke system

This segment included IU’s Good Day, Over Drive, and Plastic Love, one of the representative songs of Japanese city pop. The last of these was a duet with MC Natsuko, and in the easy atmosphere it felt like an event everyone could enjoy together. Even within the overall performance, this segment was particularly bright, giving the second session a lighter, livelier flow. After karaoke, Miyu returned to singing with her own guitar accompaniment. This time she performed BOL4’s You (=I) and Terminal. Where the karaoke had lifted the energy, the guitar set brought the flow into a calmer shape.

The last moments, meeting Miyu directly

The performance ended with the special benefit session, a chance for fans to meet Miyu directly. It proceeded in the order of autographs, two-shot photos, then TikTok filming. Tickets obtained by buying the designated album were used in the draw to determine the type of benefit. Compared with earlier events, the overall mood felt more unhurried.

Previously, one photo often led immediately to the next person’s turn, but this time there was a little more space to exchange a greeting or say something briefly. There were operational disappointments too. Admission had taken longer than expected and delayed the start, affecting parts of the program.

During the benefit session, there were small mistakes, such as the next participant entering before a photo was entirely finished. Even so, taken as a whole, the fan meeting unfolded with a little more breathing room than previous occasions. Above all, the opportunity to talk and share music with Miyu at such close range made this Shibuya fan meeting meaningful.

A karaoke gathering that followed naturally

After the fan meeting, some of the fans decided to go to karaoke together. Since the event itself had taken place in a space inside Shibuya’s Manekineko building, it was a natural continuation. The idea was to move into a karaoke room in the same building, chat, and spend a little more time together, and I joined briefly.

In Japan, fans sometimes gather for karaoke or a meal after a concert or fan meeting; this occasion followed that pattern naturally. We did not even need to travel elsewhere, simply taking a room in the same building. It felt like a small afterparty. I could not stay long, however.

I had to catch an 8:05 p.m. flight home from Haneda that night. Allowing time for the airport journey meant leaving Shibuya Station by around 5:30 at the latest. The fan meeting had already ended a little after five, leaving me only about twenty minutes at karaoke.

Manekineko, one of Japan’s major karaoke chains

Manekineko is a representative chain operating in this style. Each room has a monitor and karaoke equipment, with songs selected by remote control or tablet. The catalogs often include not only Japanese songs but English songs, anime themes, and Korean songs too.

A characteristic Japanese karaoke system

Another feature is the drink bar. Many Japanese karaoke venues provide unlimited self-service drinks, allowing customers to keep bringing cola, juice, and other soft drinks to the room throughout the visit.

The DAM karaoke system

Our room used DAM, one of Japan’s most widespread karaoke systems, known for its broad song catalog and fairly good sound quality.

Brief, but memorable

I could not linger that evening. With the journey to Haneda still ahead, I could only join the room for a short time. After about twenty minutes together, I said goodbye first and left. I wanted to spend longer with everyone, but the flight time was fixed, leaving me little choice. Even so, this gathering had grown naturally out of the fan meeting, and the short time felt worthwhile.

From Shibuya to Haneda

With my last plans in Shibuya finished, it was time to head to Haneda. My flight home left at 8:05 p.m., so allowing enough time for the journey mattered. Several routes connect Shibuya with the airport, including Keikyu trains and the Tokyo Monorail. Keikyu usually means changing at Shinagawa, while the monorail requires a transfer at Hamamatsucho. From Shibuya on the JR Yamanote Line, Shinagawa comes first. I could have changed there, but chose to continue a little farther and take the monorail from Hamamatsucho.

Why I chose the Tokyo Monorail

Keikyu is a little cheaper in fare alone. I chose the monorail for a few advantages, particularly the simplicity of its route. With Keikyu, boarding the wrong train can send someone toward Yokohama, which might confuse a first-time passenger. The monorail runs directly from Hamamatsucho to Haneda, leaving very little chance of that kind of mistake. For the final stretch to the airport, I felt it offered a more relaxed journey.

An express monorail train

At Hamamatsucho, the timetable showed trains running frequently. The information board indicated that a later express would arrive ahead of the earlier local, making it the better choice. I reached the station around 6:10 p.m., just after a train had left. I briefly considered whether to take the 6:15 local or wait for the 6:20 express. The display confirmed that the express would reach the airport sooner. I decided to wait the extra five minutes and board the 6:20 service.

The Tokyo Monorail at night

Running along Tokyo Bay, the monorail offers waterfront scenery during the day. Views of Rainbow Bridge and the harbor make it popular with visitors. By this evening, however, it was already completely dark. Although I sat by the window, I could see almost none of the scenery, only scattered city lights in the darkness. Even so, the direct connection to the airport made the ride very comfortable. The carriage was relatively quiet, and most passengers seemed to be heading for flights, many with suitcases.

Arriving at Haneda Airport Terminal 3

The monorail brought me to Haneda Airport Terminal 3 Station. It connects directly with the international terminal: after leaving the train, escalators lead straight into the airport building. Following the signs again brought me naturally into the terminal. The journey to Haneda, my final movement within Tokyo, was safely complete.

Arriving at Haneda Terminal 3

The Tokyo Monorail brought me to Haneda Airport Terminal 3 Station. From the train, escalators led naturally into the terminal, and following signs brought me straight up to the departure-counter floor. Terminal 3 serves international flights and felt substantial in size. Even at night, plenty of people moved through the building, particularly around the counters where travelers were checking in. I was taking Asiana Airlines OZ1035 to Gimpo, so I first looked for Asiana’s counters.

Checking in with Asiana

The Asiana check-in counters were in Zone B. Following the signs made them relatively easy to find, and I joined the line to check my luggage. Haneda is a busy airport, but the queue that evening was shorter than I expected. My turn came quickly, and handing over the bag took little time. Interestingly, ANA counters were also accepting Asiana checked luggage. That was what I saw at the counters that day. Spreading passengers across counters seemed to help keep the wait short. Once my bag was accepted, I had a little breathing room before departure immigration.

Finally eating my snack at the airport

Only after leaving my bag could I pause for breath. Then I remembered the bread and drink I was carrying. I had bought them at a convenience store after the first fan meeting session, intending to eat something simple. But after the event, the brief karaoke stop led straight into the airport journey, and I never found time.

Only now, before departure formalities at Haneda, did I finally eat. There was little time to settle somewhere properly, so I used a luggage cart as a table for the bread and drink. It was a hurried meal, yet after a day of traveling and watching performances, even a simple snack did much to ease my hunger. When I finished, I headed for departure checks.

Departure procedures at Haneda

The departure process was quicker than I expected too. Haneda handles many international travelers, but the short queues that evening let me finish relatively fast. Security screening and departure immigration led naturally into duty-free. Terminal 3’s shopping area was fairly broad, with several brand stores. I had nothing particular to buy, however, and did not stop to browse. I had already purchased most things I wanted during the trip, and did not have a great deal of time before boarding. I passed through the shops and headed for the gate.

Gate 141

My Asiana flight boarded at gate 141. The difficulty was that it lay toward the far end of the terminal. Just beyond immigration there had been plenty of people, but the farther I walked toward the gate, the fewer I saw. Beyond the concentration of duty-free stores and other shops, a long airport passage continued, and I had to keep following it. I walked onward past the shops toward 141.

The crowds near immigration thinned as I went deeper inside, and the unexpectedly long walk made me feel the airport’s size afresh. Only on reaching the gate did I feel that the continuous movement from fan meeting to airport had finally ended. All that remained was to board the flight back to Korea. I had finished the fan meeting, Tokyo’s last event, reached the airport, and completed departure formalities safely. Now there was only the journey home.

Boarding at Haneda

After completing departure procedures in Terminal 3, I went to gate 141 and boarded my Asiana flight home. This service arrived at Gimpo rather than Incheon, which suited me well. For western Seoul, Gimpo means a much shorter onward journey and an easier trip after landing. Once boarding began, we entered in turn. I had chosen a window seat in advance again and settled beside the glass. The day’s continuous travel, performances, and airport journey had left me deeply tired, however. Despite having a window seat, I had little energy to enjoy the view and spent most of the flight asleep.

The return flight

Haneda to Gimpo is a relatively short route, about two and a half hours. It was no long-haul journey, but after such a full day I felt the fatigue catch up almost as soon as I sat down.

A brief scene in the cabin

A man sat beside me. After takeoff, he took a book from his bag and began working intently through something. At a glance it looked like a workbook, as though he were preparing for an exam. Making use of even his flight time to study impressed me. With most other passengers watching films or sleeping, the scene stood out all the more.

The in-flight meal

A meal was served on this flight too. The cabin attendant described the menu as chicken, but opening the tray revealed a breaded pork cutlet. It was better than I might have expected all the same. With too little time for a proper meal on the way to the airport, I was especially glad to see it. The hot main dish and simple sides were enough for a full meal even on this short flight. The fan meeting and the journeys around it had kept me from eating properly, and the tray eased my hunger.

Arriving at Gimpo

The flight remained fairly smooth, and we landed safely at Gimpo without much turbulence. Getting home from the airport was relatively straightforward too. Gimpo’s much shorter journey into Seoul often makes it feel far more convenient to me than Incheon. By the time I reached home, midnight had already passed. My body was tired after a day of travel, performances, and the trip to the airport, but I was glad it was not later still.

Miyu was the person who set this journey in motion. Without the wish to attend her March 7 fan meeting, I would never have headed straight from the office to Incheon Airport on a weekday evening. The night at Haneda and the hurried return to the airport after the performance were both arranged around those two fan meeting sessions. When planning, those movements came first: which flight, which neighborhood to sleep in, whether I could watch both sessions and still reach the airport on the last day. Yet back home, the days I remembered included scenes that had never entered those calculations.

Miyu on a close little stage

The roughly fifty-seat space inside Manekineko was different from a large concert hall. Saying that the stage was close described more than the position of my seat. I could see expressions and little movements. There was even the moment when Miyu came right in front of me with a question sheet to ask what the Korean meant.

There was little distance between the prepared program and the spontaneous things happening in the room. Across both sessions I watched not only songs, but conversation, gift draws, and fans trading for the benefits they wanted. Being able to see Miyu, the reason for the journey, for so long from such a close seat was certainly a pleasure. At the same time, I came away wanting to see her perform on a larger stage.

I liked the intimacy and charm of the small space, yet also wanted to hear Miyu’s songs in somewhere more expansive. My feelings would not resolve entirely to one side. I welcomed the easy closeness of a fan meeting, and beside that pleasure was the hope for a bigger stage. Rather than ending with a single verdict that it was wonderful or disappointing, recording the scenes I actually saw that day feels truer to my response.

From neighboring plane seats to an evening in Shibuya

Duhan and I began talking simply because we sat next to each other on the flight from Incheon to Haneda. We spoke about Turkey and Korea, about names, and about his first journey to Japan. That conversation continued to the airport SIM counter and currency exchange, then into sitting opposite each other over ramen in Shibuya the next day. I would go home in a few days, while Duhan planned to spend about thirty-five days in Japan.

We had stepped off the same plane, yet the time ahead of us was entirely different. I was returning to Korea soon, and he was beginning more than a month of travel. We shared one evening for a while, then returned to our own itineraries. I also remember talking about home at Haneda’s tourist information center.

We had gone to find information Duhan needed, and discovered that the staff member helping us came from Daegu, like me. There was something amusing about standing in a Tokyo airport beside a Turkish friend beginning his first Japan trip and talking about Daegu. Hearing how that person had come to live and work in Japan, I felt less like someone at an information counter than someone briefly meeting a person from home. We had never arranged to meet, yet in gathering my memories after returning, I could not leave out that short encounter.

Scenes I lingered over, beyond the number of places

In Tokyo, I walked through famous places and spent time in others hardly describable as tourist sights: a small Ikebukuro park and barber shop, an underpass, a convenience store near my room. Around Miyashita Park I recognized a view from Miyu’s music video. Walking from Shibuya to Harajuku, the Tokyo of earlier visits overlapped with the street in front of me. I enjoyed looking around the Sakura Tram’s carriage and out its windows too.

If arriving quickly had been all that mattered, I would never have chosen that route. This time, the stretch of moving through the city became a scene of the journey itself. In Asakusa I ate matcha ice cream, explored Sensoji and shrines, and saw early spring flowers along the river. In the evening I took the train to Akihabara and walked as far as Ueno.

After the airport night, somewhere to rest and somewhere to shower had mattered most. At the second hotel, I was glad to enter my room early and change into comfortable indoor clothes. Perhaps that is also why I write these journeys at length. Recording only the names of places would lose what made me happy that day and where I briefly stopped. Things that seemed small at the time gave the whole journey its expression.

The cost of the journey, and the way home

For costs, I recorded mainly the separate expenses arranged for this trip: airfare, accommodation, data, and fan meetings. My Asiana return ticket cost ₩437,300, Kankokukan in Ikebukuro ₩44,411, and Vessel Inn Asakusa Tsukuba Express ₩106,337. For data, I used a three-day USIMSA eSIM offering 5 GB daily followed by unlimited service at reduced speed, costing ₩6,210. I did not separately total food or local transport in Tokyo.

I would still eat and get around while staying in Seoul, so this time I focused on the major additional items prepared specifically for the journey. This record is therefore not an all-inclusive budget adding up every amount I spent. Arriving at Gimpo on the return flight also suited me well. In Tokyo I had used Haneda for the city-airport journeys; back in Korea, I headed home from Gimpo rather than Incheon.

The last day’s fan meetings, brief karaoke gathering with other fans, and airport transfer had tired me, but an in-flight meal eased my late hunger, and reaching home completed the itinerary. I had left for one reason, to see Miyu. After returning, though, Duhan’s conversations, the airport employee’s stories of home, and Tokyo’s streets across several journeys remained with me too. These four days and two hotel nights became another journey that a single stage could never fully explain.