Japan Travel in the Know– category –

Today, we’re taking you on a casual, slightly cheeky stroll through one of Tokyo’s most inventive design hangouts: Tokyo Midtown Design Hub (TMDH). Imagine stepping into a building that gives a knowing wink to both your left-brain archit...

【】 When you hear Suntory, you probably think whisky on the rocks, highball cans from the konbini, or maybe that jingle that somehow gets stuck in your head for days. But plot twist: Suntory also runs a museum. Yep, a museum, and not ju...

Have you ever seen "jewelry ice?" It is completely different from drift ice, made of not sea water but fresh water, and so, it's highly transparent like a diamond. River water turns into ice on the surface at river mouth, and the ice pieces, before getting washed ashore, drift in the sea for a while, get rounded off, and are more brightly polished. According to Wikipedia, this natural phenomenon occurs only along the coast of a small town in Hokkaido even in all the wide world.

Why does Japan's $300 Matsutake mushroom smell like dirty socks overseas? I explore the cultural acclimatization of fungi, the 4,000-year history of risk, and the scientific mystery of poisonous mushrooms. I then take you to Hokkaido, the last mushroom frontier, where unpicked bounty proves the biodiversity and health of our forests—and the quality of our wooden furniture.

Fire was stolen from the gods (Prometheus, the Jaguar King) to make us human. But in wooden Japan, fire also created a deep-seated dread. I trace this primal paradox of fascination and awe, only to lead you to the final conclusion: The Bonfire Bar on a rooftop terrace in Asahikawa, Hokkaido. Visit to enjoy a unique, eco-friendly bonfire made from furniture wood waste—a small, local answer to a grand, universal mystery.

Why does a Japanese person who hates the smell of raw fish insist you visit his mountain-surrounded hometown for the best sushi? I explore the Sushi Paradox, noting the scientific mystery of our elusive tastes (I love fishing, but won't touch the catch!). While Hokkaido's seas are bountiful due to colliding currents, the logic is in logistics: Asahikawa, the inland distribution hub, gathers the best fish—the quality too high to stay on the coast. Come to Asahikawa for the best sushi! (I’ll order the cooked egg.)

What are the unwritten scripts in the snow? I decode the footprints of deer and foxes in Hokkaido, only to uncover a philosophical problem: The deer population boom is destroying our forests. I admit this fear is purely human ego. This leads to my ultimate, self-serving conclusion: We should solve the ecological problem—and the chicken-or-egg venison dilemma—by dining at one of Hokkaido's many excellent deer meat restaurants. Come and eat some of the problem.

Do you know how big the world's largest planetarium is? It's 35 m in diameter, and is located in Nagoya, Japan. Why don't you come and try one in the Mecca of planetarium? You may think there's no point of going to the planetarium when you come all the way to Japan, but planetarium shows are designed based on stars seen in the local sky. It's also something you can only experience here.

The $500 Japanese Ransel school bag was built to be a six-year sled. We unveil the Powder Paradox: Hokkaido’s globally famous 'Champagne Powder' is too light and dry to build snow igloos—ruining childhood fun, but creating the need for stunning, heavy-machinery-built structures like the La Vista Ice Bar. Sit on our chairs in a hotel made of ice and experience the ultimate expression of our fleeting, cold luxury.

The Cold Rice Test: Why Your Microwave Is Useless. Truly exceptional rice remains delicious even when cooled—a cultural point missed by the microwave generation. We explore the brutal efficiency that made rice, not wheat, the cornerstone of Japan, sustained by 400,000 km of ancestral labor (ten turns around the Earth). This profound history culminates in a farmer-run curry house where a simple meal becomes a 10,000-year philosophical experience.