Experiencing Japan, One Tradition at a Time

 Sep 6, 2025.

Public Bath, Private Panic

We woke up early to squeeze in one last soak in our private onsen before breakfast. The morning air wasn't exactly cool, but compared to Kyoto in the middle of the day it felt downright refreshing. Sitting in steaming mineral water while listening to the gentle sound of fresh spring water continuously flowing into our tub was one of the most peaceful moments of the trip.

Still wearing the Japanese robes provided by the hotel (yukata, the lighter, more casual cousin of a kimono), we headed downstairs for the breakfast buffet. There were grilled fish, miso soup, rice, pickled vegetables, tamagoyaki (rolled omelet), and all kinds of traditional Japanese breakfast foods.

After breakfast, it was time to tackle something that had me just a little nervous...

The public onsen.

When in Japan, right?

Since the baths are separated by gender, Evan did the sweetest thing. He went into the men's side first, scoped everything out, then came back to our room to give me a full report of what to expect.

Armed with Evan's briefing, we rode the elevator together to the eighth floor before parting ways.

Upon entering, I slipped off the hotel sandals I'd been wearing and placed them on a shelf alongside all of the other identical hotel sandals. To remember which ones were mine, I clipped on the number 18.

Not because 18 means anything special...

Not because there was a separate piece for me that said 18...

just because there was a basket of clips and a lot of shoes. Hopefully this was the right call (because it was not included in Evan's tutorial)

Next came the towels. There were several different sizes available and, not knowing any better, I grabbed one.

(In hindsight, I should have taken both a large bath towel and a smaller hand towel.)

From there I entered a mirrored changing room lined with wicker baskets. Evan had already explained that this was where I'd leave my yukata. Small lockers held valuables like room keys and phones, and the key came off on a stretchy bracelet you could wear around your wrist.

Beyond that were individual washing stations, each equipped with a stool, handheld shower, mirror, bucket, shampoo, conditioner, and body wash.

Every guest washes thoroughly first so the communal water remains pristine for everyone else. It's a ritual rooted in respect for the people sharing the space.

Only then do you enter the baths.

But first, I made one final adjustment.

I covered the tattoo on my wrist with a Band-Aid.

Many traditional onsens in Japan still prohibit visible tattoos. The rule dates back to a time when tattoos were strongly associated with the yakuza, Japan's organized crime syndicates. Since onsens are meant to be places of peace, relaxation, and community, owners wanted to keep gang activity out of their baths. The problem, of course, was that they couldn't exactly put up a sign saying, "No yakuza allowed." So instead, many establishments adopted a blanket no tattoos policy.

My little wrist tattoo disappeared under a Band-Aid, and with that, I took a deep breath and stepped inside.

There was a large indoor pool overlooking the city and a smaller outdoor bath nestled among natural rocks.

I eased into the indoor bath first.

As I relaxed, I noticed another woman sitting in the bath with a small towel on her head. When she moved between baths, she held it discreetly in front of herself.

Apparently, the small towel is never supposed to go into the bath itself, so people either rest it on their head or beside the water.

Good to know...

...about five minutes too late. Where was this in Evan's tutorial?!

After enjoying the indoor bath, I made my way outside to the rock-lined pool in a "not so discreet, no tiny towel" kind of way. 

The setting was beautiful.

The water?

Hot.

Like...really hot.

I lasted a few minutes before deciding I'd absorbed enough minerals for one morning.

Afterward, I returned to the washing station for another quick rinse before drying off, putting my yukata back on, collecting my room key...

...and retrieving my sandals.

Lucky number 18 served me well. 

I'm really glad I pushed myself to experience the public onsen. Japan has thousands of natural hot springs, making onsen culture an important part of everyday life for many Japanese people. It's not just about bathing. It's about slowing down and sharing a peaceful moment with others.

Meanwhile, Evan was significantly more adventurous than I was, trying the men's baths on two different floors while I happily sipped tea on our private patio.

The Tightest Outfit I've Ever Loved

Soon it was time to leave our beautiful ryokan.

The hotel shuttle dropped us at the station, and after two trains we were back in Kyoto.

We dropped our luggage at the hotel and grabbed lunch in a mall food court, where we tried omurice, a fluffy omelet wrapped around fried rice.

Evan's came topped with beef and a rich sauce.

Mine featured duck that tasted suspiciously like bologna.

Not terrible.

Just not making my Top 10 Japan Meals list.

After lunch we headed to Kyoto's famous Fushimi Sake District for a traditional tea ceremony.

The experience began with us standing ankle-deep in tubs of freezing water filled with rubber ducks to cool off before getting dressed. Evan was grinning wondering why this wasn't a thing at every place we entered. 

Then came the kimono fitting.

Traditional women's kimonos are considerably more elaborate than men's, and the wide sash, called an obi, is often tied into intricate decorative knots. Mine was golden and arranged into a beautiful flower across my back.

Once the multiple layers beneath my kimono were secured I couldn't slouch if I tried.

The women styled my hair, handed me a matching purse and umbrella, and led us into the garden for photos.

Meanwhile, Evan was handed a katana.

He looked simultaneously thrilled and mildly terrified. He just kept repeating over and over again, "I can't believe they gave me this. I can't believe they gave me this." 

Part of me was wondering, "should they have given him this?"

Our hosts then welcomed us inside with some of the best Japanese sweets we'd had during the entire trip.

Before entering the tea room, we learned how to move properly across the tatami mats by sliding our feet rather than stepping and carefully avoiding the seams where the mats met. Every bow, every movement, every placement of the fan had meaning.

The ceremony wasn't just about drinking tea.

It was about mindfulness.

Our instructor introduced us to the Japanese philosophy of wabi-sabi, which means finding beauty in simplicity and imperfection. A handmade bowl that's slightly uneven isn't flawed. Its imperfections are part of its story. Or, in our case, the flower arrangement that we made as a decoration for the tea ceremony. After looking at it one of the women exclaimed, "look at them, embracing wabi-sabi" aka look at them embracing being bad at flower arranging. 😆

We also learned about Japan's writing systems. Foreign names like ours are typically written in katakana, one of Japan's three writing systems, while kanji characters carry meanings of their own.

Apparently my name translated to "young and dignified."

Checkmate!

Evan's translated to "flourish 10,000."

Also solid.

Then it was finally time to prepare our own matcha.

Thirty strokes back and forth.

Make a "W."

Finish with a gentle circle to lift the whisk cleanly from the bowl.

I even created latte art using the Japanese character for love.

Before drinking, we held the tea bowl with two hands, rotated it twice so we wouldn't drink from its "front" (a sign of respect to the artisan who crafted it), bowed, and thanked our host.

We also apologized to the guest beside us for drinking before them, a gesture of humility that's been part of tea ceremony etiquette for centuries.

And finally...

On the last sip...

SLUUUUURRRRRPPPPPPPPP.

Loudly.

In Japan, that's how you tell the host the tea was delicious. 😋

It felt wonderful to spend an afternoon learning traditions that have been carefully passed down for generations. I left with a deeper appreciation of Japanese culture and an even deeper appreciation for elastic waistbands. 

Three Trips for One Table

After tea, Evan and I wandered through the sake district, popping into shops before deciding that we probably ought to visit a sake brewery.

When in Rome or, more appropriately, when in the sake district of Kyoto.

The bartender enthusiastically offered us an 18-sake tasting flight.

Eighteen.

Absolutely not.

Instead, we each ordered a flight of three.

We explained what kinds of sake we usually (and by usually we mean the sakes we tasted three days ago at Sights) enjoy, and the bartender selected three sakes for each of us.

Unfortunately... Neither of us liked them.

While we quietly suffered through our flights, we struck up a conversation with a Canadian couple about our age.

They did order the flight of eighteen.

Maybe that's why they were so chatty? Either way, it was a good way to take our minds off the fact that we were not enjoying our flights of 3. 

While heading back to our neighborhood via train we decided that we would try wagyu for dinner.

We found a restaurant everyone recommended.

The problem?

Every time we walked in, they smiled and said...

"Soon."

We came back.

"Soon."

We came back again.

"Soon."

Three visits later we were officially hangry.

When they finally seated us, they led us upstairs to an entire private room containing exactly one table.

Ours.

Not a banquet room.

Not a section.

One table.

We could hear every time a server climbed the stairs because there was only one staircase leading up to us. But even if we couldn't hear we didn't have to worry because before entering every single time they knocked to announce their presence. What did they think we were doing up there?

It was one of the most unique dining setups we've ever experienced.

The wagyu was served with matcha salt, and while the beef was incredibly tender both of us agreed afterward that all the waiting and repeated "soon" visits probably made the experience better in our minds than it actually was.

A Typhoon Detour Worth Taking

 Sep 5, 2025

A typhoon was supposed to sweep through Kyoto today, bringing torrential rain and powerful winds. Thankfully, it veered north at the last minute, leaving us with nothing more than on and off showers throughout the morning. 

Evan and I ventured out for breakfast which was a real treat considering we've mostly been surviving on bananas and granola bars from 7-Eleven in our hotel room. (Honestly, though, Japanese 7-Elevens deserve all the hype.)

Back at the hotel, we tackled laundry. The washing machine worked great, but finding enough space to hang-dry an entire week's worth of clothes for two people inside our hotel room? That was a challenge.

Before heading out, we laid everything we'd need for our overnight on the bed. More to come on that.

Our first stop was a shop I'd been looking forward to visiting for months. Before coming to Japan, I'd learned about furoshiki—beautiful square cloths that can be used over and over again as gift wrap, handbags, lunch carriers, or to bundle pretty much anything. The concept immediately appealed to the environmentally conscious side of me. Instead of disposable wrapping paper or shopping bags, one cloth serves countless purposes. Naturally, I had to bring a few home.

The shop had an entire wall covered in furoshiki, each one more beautiful than the last. Choosing just a few was almost impossible.

That's when we learned our first lesson of the day: always carry your passport while shopping in Japan. Tourists can receive tax-free purchases at many stores...if they have their passport with them. Oops.

Next came one of Evan's most anticipated stops: a knife shop featuring a single master bladesmith. His knives are sold exclusively in that store, and one of them had taken over a year to complete. The shopkeeper immediately recognized that Evan had done his homework. The questions he asked weren't tourist questions. Watching the two of them geek out over steel was more fun than I had anticipated.

There was one knife in particular that Evan absolutely fell in love with.

Whether it was the knife...well, only time will tell.

We continued strolling through the shopping streets, weaving in and out of shops along seemingly endless covered arcades that stretched block after block. I could have spent hours browsing, but eventually we had to head back toward the hotel.

On the way, we made one essential stop: the famous 10-yen coin cake.

Imagine waffle batter pressed into the shape of a Japanese 10-yen coin and stuffed with molten mozzarella cheese.

It was every bit as good as it sounds.

Back at the hotel, we entered our room to find the cleaning crew- surprise! Sorry about all the laundry hanging every which way. We quickly grabbed our things from the bed and headed out.

Before leaving Kyoto, we made one final stop at SIGHTS, our favorite coworking café, to see our favorite Japanese person ever—Marie.

She greeted us with the biggest hugs, wanted to hear everything we'd done since we last saw her, and was genuinely excited that we'd taken so many of her recommendations. Before we left, she even asked if she could take a picture with us.

We sure were going to miss her. And all of her recommendations.

While there Evan redeemed himself in the beer department. Earlier in the week he'd ordered a tea stout that...let's just say...wasn't his favorite. Today the café had tapped a new keg, an IPA, and he was much happier to be drinking it.

Then it was time for our next adventure.

An Unexpected Night in Otsu

When we first heard a typhoon might trap us indoors for a day, we made a last-minute decision that turned out to be one of the highlights of our trip.

Instead of sitting in our hotel room listening to the rain, we booked a night at a ryokan in nearby Otsu, complete with our own private onsen on the balcony and access to the hotel's larger public hot springs.

Three trains later, and after traveling through mountain tunnels that had our ears popping every few minutes, we arrived in Otsu.

Our hotel instructions said to use the station payphone to call for the complimentary shuttle.

Simple enough.

Except...we couldn't figure out how to use the payphone.

So Evan used his own phone instead.

(We'll worry about that international phone bill later.)

Less than five minutes later, our shuttle arrived.

From the moment we pulled up, the hotel felt like something out of a dream.

Inside our room were three mysterious doors.

Naturally, we had to investigate.

Door number one opened into the bedroom, complete with tatami mat flooring, couch seating, two plush beds, two TVs and a balcony overlooking our own private open-air onsen. Fresh mineral water continuously flowed into the bath, creating the most peaceful soundtrack imaginable.

Door number two revealed a bathroom the size of our hotel room in Kyoto. 😆

There were dual sinks with stools for getting ready, and beyond that an incredible indoor-outdoor bathing area with multiple shower heads. There were even different temperature adjustments for each head. SCORE!

Door number three?

The toilet.

As soon as we opened the door, the lid lifted automatically and the toilet politely rinsed itself in preparation.

Japan...never change.

Unfortunately, I could not, for the life of me, figure out the bidet settings. Whoever had used it before me must have been significantly taller because the water kept spraying my back instead of where it was intended to go.

Western toilet paper it was.

Hanging neatly in the closet were beautiful robes which we later learned you're supposed to wear throughout the hotel, including to dinner and the public onsens. How did we learn this you may ask? We made the fatal mistake of going to dinner in our regular clothing, only to see that EVERYONE at the restaurant was wearing their room robes. Oops. You mean everyone didn't just put these outfits on for a private photoshoot in their room and then change back into their street attire to go to out and about? 

While we may not have looked the part we definitely were able to act the part. HA. Just kidding. Dinner that evening was a traditional kaiseki, Japan's multi-course seasonal dining experience. Dish after dish arrived, many requiring us to cook ourselves at the table. We spent a good portion of dinner asking our server, "Are we doing this right?" 0/2. 

After finishing dinner we rolled our futons onto the tatami mats and fell asleep feeling like we'd died and gone to heaven.

Torii Gates, Teppei, Tall Trees and Typhoons

Sep 4, 2025

We started the day strong by getting on the wrong train.

We were heading to Fushimi Inari Shrine and somehow managed to board the incorrect line, but luckily, we had built in enough buffer time (thanks to Evan!) to reroute and still arrive with time to spare.

We met our guide, Teppei, in front of the shrine and immediately knew we were in for a morning.

Teppei was a character. So energetic, so enthusiastic, so... sweaty. This man wore a full dress shirt, slacks, and loafers to hike up a mountain of stairs. By the end, his white shirt was completely soaked through. He definitely gave Evan a run for his money in the sweating department.

The real funny part though was that he was heading to his day job AFTER hiking up the mountain with us. Oh no!

We began our climb through the iconic torii gates which became those bright orange-red arches that seemed to go on forever. (And really they did because before 9am we had over 10,000 steps!) Teppei explained that each gate is actually a donation—individuals or businesses pay to have their names inscribed as a way of honoring the deity Inari, associated with prosperity, business success, and agriculture. And not only do they sponsor the gates, they’re also responsible for maintaining them.

There are thousands of them.

The vivid orange color of the gates is believed to ward off evil spirits. And now it all makes sense why I slept well at night and Candace had recurring nightmares (I chose to paint my room bright orange in high school) ...maybe mom should try sleeping in there. 

Early on, we stopped to do a traditional fortune ritual involving a stone that's referred to as the “Omokaru Stone.” You make a wish, then lift the stone. If it feels lighter than expected, your wish is said to come true. If it feels heavier… not looking great.

(Results will remain undisclosed.)

As we climbed higher, we passed smaller shrines scattered along the path and each one was dedicated to something different. One for prosperity, one for relationships (you know we stopped there), and others tied to more niche blessings. 

At one point, Teppei pointed out a sacred tree with exposed roots and said they were symbols of grounding and connection. He said people often pause here for reflection. I think he just needed a break from all his sweating.

Also: apparently in Japan, seeing a spider first thing in the morning is considered good luck.

We saw a lot of spiders.

This did not make Evan feel lucky.

Cats are also considered lucky—especially in connection with prosperity—and we saw quite a few of them lounging near one of the shrines. Evan had no problem soaking up the good luck from the felines. 

We kept climbing. And climbing. And climbing.

At a certain point, we reached a viewpoint. It was not the summit, but honestly, it was the best view of the entire hike. 

Teppei, meanwhile, was documenting everything. He insisted on taking photos of us every few minutes. At first, we played along. Then we ran out of normal poses. Then we started posing strangely.

Big mistake.

He loved it.

We now have more photos from this hike than from the rest of the trip combined.

On the way back down, Teppei bought us postcards and introduced us to inari sushi—sweet tofu skin filled with rice, named after the shrine itself. We sat nearby to eat and ended up next to a group of middle school girls on a field trip who were absolutely fascinated by us. Teppei translated back and forth while they asked questions and giggled. 

^^yep apparently we even needed a photo of us eating...

After our climb, we attempted to go to Vermillion Cafe, only to discover there are multiple locations and both are underwhelming.

So we pivoted and took the train to a soba noodle spot that was recommended by Marie. It was so good. Kyoto continues to deliver on food.

Next up: Arashiyama Bamboo Forest.

We took two trains and even hopped on a little trolley/cable car to get there. The bamboo forest itself was cool to see but if you’re tight on time in Japan this might be a skip.

That said, the surrounding area was beautiful. We wandered to a bridge over the river, found a bench, and just sat for a while watching everything go by.

We also spent a solid amount of time watching the rickshaw drivers and questioning how they are physically capable of pulling full-grown adults around all day. Truly impressive.

Afterward, we headed back to the area we were staying in and made a stop at our now-favorite spot, Sights Kyoto, to grab a drink and catch up with Marie. We told her about our day including how much we loved her lunch recommendation, and she told us another group had also been in earlier marveling at the sponge. HA!

For dinner, we went to an obanzai restaurant (another Marie recommendation, obviously). Obanzai is a traditional Kyoto-style meal made up of many small, seasonal dishes. It felt like a never-ending parade of plates. Some were incredible and some were not my personal favorite. Evan gladly handled anything I didn’t finish.

After dinner, we found a hidden speakeasy tucked behind a bookshelf of liquor bottles. We had to stop in. I ordered a caramel popcorn cocktail that tasted exactly like popcorn (mindf*ck?!) but was very sweet, while Evan had a yuzu martini that he really enjoyed.

We got to chatting with the bartender after spotting a bottle of gin from Koval, a distillery that's local to Chicago. Of all the places to see something from home... a hidden bottle bookshelf bar in Kyoto.

We also noticed they had mezcal, which was confusing because earlier in the trip someone told us it wasn’t allowed in Japan. The verdict is still out on that one.

We walked home in the rain which turned out to be the beginning of a typhoon.

Luckily, Marie had warned us earlier in the day. She mentioned that as foreigners, we likely wouldn’t receive emergency alerts, (which we didn't) and reassured us that we didn’t need to evacuate. She told us just to expect heavy rain and strong winds and that our best bet was to stay inside.

The bartender at the speakeasy had a slightly different recommendation: go to your favorite bar and ride it out.

We’ll see what tomorrow brings.