Japan beyond Shibuya: Discovering the country through craftsmanship, design, and extraordinary food
Beyond neon spectacle, discovering a more intimate and deeply considered side of Japan.
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Japan has become the destination—filtered, fast, and often reduced to a blur of neon crossings, themed cafés, and algorithm-friendly moments. I wanted to experience a different Japan. Along with a friend of a similar sensibility, I travelled for 10 days across two cities and a coastal town, staying in four hotels and eating in numerous restaurants in search of beauty and craftsmanship. Ours was a Japan of textiles and vintage kimonos, quietly exceptional meals, and an aesthetic that felt subtle, deliberate, and deeply considered. We actively sidestepped the expected: no Harajuku, no robot cafés, barely a glance at Shibuya before retreating. Instead, we discovered a more nuanced, grown-up Japan—culturally curious, design-led, and drawn to experiences that felt special without being ostentatious.
Unlike many of my trips, this one came with considerable expectation. There had been plenty of reading beforehand—Instagram, articles, and books by Pico Iyer and Pallavi Aiyar—and a mounting sense of excitement. My travel companion, Tessa, flew nearly 24 hours from South Africa to spend 10 days with me, and we both have long shared a fascination with Japanese aesthetics: the restraint in design, the quiet formality, and that extraordinary attention to detail. Having encountered glimpses of this in Japanese shops and restaurants around the world, we were curious to experience it in the country.
Arriving at Haneda Airport initially feels like arriving at any major international hub: orderly, efficient, familiar. Then the details begin to emerge—staff quietly wearing white gloves, silent orderly queues, a kind of understated precision that signals you’ve arrived somewhere distinctly different. About half-an-hour later, I reached Tokyo Station Hotel—a part of Small Luxury Hotels of the World—in Marunouchi, wonderfully central and quite literally woven into the fabric of Tokyo Station itself. While the hotel is elegant and comfortable, what truly distinguishes it is the concierge service.
The hotel itself was another pleasant surprise. Contrary to the stories we had heard about Japan’s shoebox-sized rooms, ours were spacious, carpeted, and extremely comfortable, with plush beds, large bathrooms, double sinks, Nespresso machines, and impeccable Toto washlets. Housed in a building over a century old, the hotel has the feel of a classic European grand property, softened by Japanese efficiency and restraint.
When Tessa arrived, our first priority was food. Japan exceeded every expectation while also surprising us with its quiet sophistication. One evening, following our lead concierge Rose Marie’s recommendation, we had a simple and yet stunning bento-style dinner in the KITTE building opposite the hotel; grilled mackerel, miso soup, sashimi and rice downed with our first sake. The next day we moved to the opposite end of the spectrum with an omakase sushi experience at Musashi in Aman Tokyo. The hotel itself is extraordinary. Rising above the Otemachi financial district, it offers dramatic views over the Imperial Palace Gardens. The soaring 30-metre-high lounge, dominated by a giant washi-paper lantern-like installation, is reason enough to visit for afternoon tea or cocktails alone. Dinner at Musashi was unforgettable. With only eight counter seats and two tables, the restaurant feels intensely intimate. Chef Musashi speaks almost no English and communicates little even with his staff, who seem to instinctively understand him. Every morning, he visits the fish market personally to select the seafood for the day. He grows and harvests his own rice in his hometown, cultivates his own wasabi, and even produces his own sake.
The meal unfolded as a progression of exquisite nigiri: flounder, squid, lean tuna, chutoro, Japanese tiger prawn, and buttery toro, ending with sea urchin. There was also puffer fish roe served on bean curd skin, grouper, sea bream,and grilled Spanish mackerel topped with caviar. The sparkling sake, made from his own rice, was a first and quite lovely. Equally memorable were the Edo Kiriko cut-glass sake glasses, tiny works of art in themselves. Nearly every aspect of the experience—the rice, the wasabi, the sake, the pottery—bore Musashi’s personal imprint. It was less a meal, more a meditation on craftsmanship.
Tokyo offers endless food discoveries. From the famous egg mayonnaise sandwiches at 7-Eleven to the dazzling basement food halls of Isetan and Takashimaya department stores. From tiny izakayas grilling skewers of yakitori over charcoal to lively neighbourhood bars, eating in Tokyo feels like an adventure. Reservations, however, are essential. One evening in midweek, we attempted to walk into an izakaya and ended up settling for our fourth choice after the first three were full.
Our final dinner in the city was at Gonpachi Nishi-Azabu, made famous by the fight scene in Kill Bill. The cavernous wooden interiors buzz with life, and the menu offers everything from sashimi and tempura to yakitori and good vegetarian options. It also helps that the staff speak English—something not always guaranteed in Tokyo.
Shopping, too, became a search for craftsmanship rather than labels. Rose Marie directed us to Ariake AntiqueWorld, a sprawling vintage market filled with ceramics, textiles, art, and fascinating curiosities. It was a trek to get there, but worth every minute. I came away with repurposed silk kimonos, a blouse made from legendary Oshima silk from Kagoshima, ceramics, and an intriguing coral ear cleaner that I may eventually use as a hairpin.
Another favourite discovery, recommended by author Pallavi Aiyar, was 2k540 Aki-Oka Artisan in Akihabara—a collection of around 50 small shops tucked beneath an elevated railway track, all dedicated to handmade Japanese crafts. We found beautiful leather goods, ceramics, jewellery, and the wonderfully comfortable handmade Spingle sneakers. We also loved SOU.SOU for its quirky textiles and contemporary interpretations of Japanese clothing.
What stayed with me most about Japan, however, was not simply the food, shopping, or design. It was the sense of intentionality behind everything. Nothing felt loud or excessive. Beauty revealed itself quietly—in the wrapping of a purchase, the presentation of a meal, the courtesy of a concierge guiding you through a crowded station. Japan reminded me that luxury does not always have to announce itself. Sometimes, it simply whispers.
This article originally appeared in Harper's Bazaar India's June-July 2026 print issue.
Lead image: Karen Anand and Aman
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