Japan 2025

Aomori to Akita:
Japan's regional train lines often promise scenic splendor, and my recent journey from Aomori to Akita was meant to be one of those idyllic experiences. I traveled aboard the tourist train, the Resort Shirakami. My six-hour journey on the Resort Shirakami train—a famous "Joyful Train" (when translated directly in Japanese) designed for sightseeing along the Gonō Line—started with high hopes, but the reality was a mixed bag.

The train threads its way between the Shirakami-Sanchi UNESCO World Heritage site and the Sea of Japan coast, running from Aomori Station to Akita Station. It makes several interesting local stops that break up the journey:
- Hirosaki Station: A major hub, and the train has to perform a "switchback" maneuver here to change direction.
- Noshiro Station: Some trains stop briefly here, where passengers can famously alight on the platform to try their hand at basketball shooting at a hoop set up on the platform
- Senjōjiki Station: A great sightseeing stop where the train often pauses for about 15 minutes, allowing passengers to step out and walk onto the rocky, coastal shoreline that looks like a vast, flat shelf.
- Jūniko Station: The jumping-off point for visiting Aoike, a mystical blue pond surrounded by beech forest.

These all sound splendid! Right? Unfortunately the driver and conductor of our train must have missed the memo about all these stops. Because we drove straight from Aomori to Akita with brief stops at these spots, but no mention from the driver about hopping off for 10-15minutes to see these views. Without clear words from the conductor or driver that they wouldn’t abandon us and leave us stranded in rural Japan. I was not hopping off that train. We stopped at these stops for mere minutes. Not 10-15 like the Japan rail online information had led us to believe. The promised "splendid views" were subdued, and the physical comfort was severely lacking. The seats were surprisingly upright with no recline, making it almost impossible to settle into a relaxed position for the six-hour ride. This rigid seating, combined with the incredibly bumpy and rattling trainline for the first half, turned the trip into more of a physical endurance test than a tranquil glide. By the time we finally pulled into Akita, I felt thoroughly shaken, and happy to have the smooth slow trains in NSW.

Akita:

After the bumpy start, day two was dedicated to unwinding and soaking up the calm atmosphere of Akita City. We decided on a relaxing chill day, allowing ourselves to simply stroll through the downtown area and the nearby historical sites. Akita is a comfortable city, and its main attractions are easily connected by a leisurely walk from the station, which luckily the hotel I’d selected was so close to the main station, you didn’t technically even have to leave the station to get to it. We strolled through to Senshū Park (Kubota Castle Ruins): Just a five to ten-minute walk from the station, this was once the site of Kubota Castle, the seat of the Satake clan. Today, it's a peaceful park with rebuilt structures like the main castle gate and the Osumi-Yagura turret, which offers a decent view of the city. We spent a good chunk of time wandering the serene grounds and moats. The Japanese were removing all the lilies from the pond here and it was quite interesting to watch. As in Australia, this would be a simple 1-2 day job with some machinery, but not here! The workers were taking sweet time, pruning every lily individually, carefully wrapping them all in bundles for the exact stalks they seemed to be wanting to get rid of and floating them down the river. The whole process was very clean, and whilst it took a while with lots of man hours. I couldn’t help but think this is one of the reasons Japan is so ‘nice’ and clean, well presented. Everyone here takes time and effort, takes pride in doing good jobs. Doesn’t leave crap everywhere even during the middle of a messy gardening job. We visited Akita Museum of Art and the local Markets and Streets: We rounded out the day by simply wandering the central streets, browsing local shops, and checking out the Akita Citizen's Market (known as "the kitchen of Akita") for a look at the local produce and seafood. It was a good counterpoint to the trip’s rigid travel and go go go. A slow, easy exploration that left us refreshed and ready for more exploration.

Day three brought our most exciting excursion in Akita - a trip to the nearby historic samurai town of Kakunodate. We hopped aboard the swift Komachi Shinkansen for a quick and smooth ride, a truly welcome change. Kakunodate is truly special, famous for its beautifully preserved traditional samurai houses (Bukeyashiki). Walking along the main street, lined with imposing black-painted wooden fences and thick hedges, it felt like stepping back into the Edo period (not that I remember what that period was like).

We explored the interiors of several residences, which offered a fascinating look at the hierarchy of the warrior class. Ishiguro House (Ishiguro-ke). One of the grandest houses, and unique in that descendants of the samurai family still live there. This upper-class residence showcased original samurai armor and clothing, with distinct architectural details reflecting the family's high status. We then strolled a short stroll to Aoyagi House (Aoyagi-ke). An expansive complex often called the Samurai Manor Museum. We walked through multiple buildings, including the main house, an armory, and various museum collections. The sheer size of the estate highlighted the wealth and influence of this powerful family.

The samurai houses were so different in contrast to how the knights of the European continents lived. The way the wealth was displayed with the samurais clearly having an emphasis on subtle power, such as controlled entrances only for certain members such as the shoin for receiving guests. The Japanese had small meticulously maintained gardens, the armour they donned mostly about artistry not function. Their education, the term ‘the scholarly warrior’ was thrown around a lot in Japanese. Whilst European knights focused on military tactics heavily, the Samurai had a large emphasis on art, calligraphy and academia.

Although it was autumn, meaning the famous weeping cherry blossoms were not in flower, the fiery red and gold foliage of the autumn leaves provided a beautiful contrast to the iconic black wood of the houses. The one constant presence that added a slightly wild edge to the historical stroll? The abundance of "Beware of Bear" signs.

After a long day of walking among samurai relics, we were starving and ready for a proper Akita feast. We found a fantastic wagyu beef restaurant where the quality far exceeded the price. They serve beautiful, well-marbled, fatty cuts of meat that you cook yourself Korean BBQ style right at your table. The beef was exquisite, melting in your mouth and extremely rich. The entire experience was superb for only $95 AUD between two people. We topped that off with a second dinner around 9 PM. A tiny, unassuming hole-in-the-wall ramen shop. Despite its humble appearance, and location in what was essentially Akita’s red light district. It was clear this was a local favourite; the big queue spilling out onto the street confirmed it. The wait was worth it for the super nice, rich, and comforting bowl of ramen. The little ramen shop only had 5 seats, with the owner making the ramen directly in front of you. If anyone’s seen kung fu panda, the main character's dad, a little goose that makes noodles and is obsessed with making good noodles and broth. Really reminded me of the owner. A thin Japanese man who seemed to have his body in a rhythmic melody as he made slow, smooth motions making the ramen. When we left I told him the food was fantastic, to which he went flush red and bowed profusely. Clearly happy, this foreigner enjoyed his meal. I’d love to leave a good google review for him but the place is so under the radar it doesn’t even exist in google.

Ginzan Onsen:

After the bumps and beef of Akita, the next destination on the itinerary was the iconic and utterly picturesque hot spring village of Ginzan Onsen in Yamagata Prefecture. This was the moment I’d been waiting for, a chance to step into a traditional Japanese onsen and relax, with a gorgeous picturesque remote town.

The journey, however, was a sharp reminder that getting to the most remote paradises in Japan often requires commitment... and a very close eye on the clock.

Getting from Akita to Ginzan Onsen requires a chain of transfers that can be quite tight and stressful to make. It’s not a single, seamless ride, but a multi-stage journey that felt like a carefully choreographed (and slightly frantic) dance.

1. Akita to Shinjō: The first leg requires taking a train, the local JR Ou Main Line, from Akita Station south toward Shinjō Station. This stretch takes a little under three hours. Due to the transfers we had to take a small local train 2 hours into this line and then transfer onto a rapid train from Innai station to Shinjo. We had a 6 min transfer window with no idea which platform our train would depart from. The only clue we had was that according to google maps it was a 2 carriage train. Once we hopped off the train at Innai station my worst fears were confirmed, the track was a single line in and out of the station with three platforms. Meaning it would be useless to try and figure out which trains were going where based off, which platform they were on as they all linked to the same single track. Our train was arriving at 12:22, the platform had zero signs saying anything about departures or anything useful. So we followed the small crowd onto the other platform. However, a small single carriage train arrived, not the 2 carriage train we were expecting. Confusion all around, I asked a local man if this train was going to shinjo and he said yes. Lovely, but oh no! Another train had arrived on the platform at 12:22 with 2 carriages this time! Also headed for shinjo. But which one!? It was highly important we got on the correct train - the rapid line to Oishida - as we had a bullet train connection with 6 mins connection time (those bullet trains aren’t late, and they sure as heck don’t wait for people). So I frantically rushed to the driver of the small one carriage train belted out “Kore wa Shinjo-iki no kaisoku desuka” (which I frantically hoped was the correct translation for “is this the rapid train to shinjo” to which he nodded yes yes yes. There was no time to question, we all hopped on this train and nervously crossed our fingers and hoped it was the right train. However, the driver was on the wrong side of the train, to be going towards shinjo. Which was concerning to say the least. A lot of locals must have thought so too, as about half the train picked up and got off to the other 2 carriage train on the platform. It was at this point I was really questioning my translation, as the whole situation was so confusing even the locals had no clue what was happening. But I’d made my decision and we were staying on this train and we would just have to live with the consequences of a 5 hour delay if I was wrong… At the last second the driver unlocked his door and went to the other side of the train - driving towards the correct direction. A palpable sigh of relief reverberated through the train when this happened.

2. Shinjō to Ōishida: At Shinjō, we changed onto a shinkansen towards Oishida with the delays that occurred we had barely a 2 minute transfer. The shinkansen guard yelling “Hayaku” (hurry up) to us all as everyone got off the local rapid train. It was a full on 400m sprint to the shinkansen. Every age group unleashed at once, burdened with luggage.

3. Ōishida to Ginzan Onsen (The Final Hurdle): Ōishida is the gateway. From here, you must catch a bus or a pre-arranged shuttle to the onsen town itself. The bus schedule is often infrequent, meaning if your train connection from Shinjō is delayed by even a few minutes, you could be stuck waiting an hour or more for the next bus. Unluckily for us - we missed our onsens shuttle bus by mere seconds, as we saw it leaving the bus stop as we exited the station. So it was a 40min wait for a local bus instead.

The whole process involves constantly glancing at train platforms and bus stops, feeling the anxiety of making those narrow transfer windows. It’s a journey that doesn't just ask for patience—it demands your full concentration. But, as with all truly rewarding destinations, the difficulty only made the arrival feel more earned.

Google Maps directed us to the base of the onsen town, where Takimikan was meant to be located but instead only seemed to house their famous Soba noodle restaurant. The mood was immediately set by a sign on the door that read, in essence: "Closed. Business has been so ridiculously good, we've depleted the entire local food supply. Sorry, not sorry."

Confused, we wandered the perimeter until, amidst the kitchen detritus, we discovered our check-in solution. A small, energetic Japanese woman in her mid 40s. Her name, we later learned, was Shojin, but for the purpose of this comical narrative, she shall be known only as "Tank." Because she is one. When I asked Tank about checking in, she simply pointed a finger straight up. At a bumpy, cobblestone goat track with a terrifying 30% gradient that seemed to lead nowhere but the clouds (or maybe an eagle's nest). Liao and I exchanged the universal look of "what the heck." Tank didn't wait for an answer. She vanished up the track like Usain Bolt chasing a discounted soba bowl and reappeared moments later driving a vehicle best described as a very small, very thin Suzuki Lunchbox. She didn't speak. She just gestured for us to get in, and when we, pitiful luggage-lifting weaklings, tried to grab our own bags, she swatted our hands away. This five-foot-nothing woman then proceeded to yoink four pieces of heavy luggage with the sheer, unbridled power of Hercules, cramming them into the back of the tiny van. We all piled in, shoulder to shoulder, essentially becoming one four-person meat cushion. The car was facing the wrong way, toward a dead end, but Tank was unfazed. She slammed the car into reverse. And then the true adventure began. Tank used the steep, narrow, sheer drop on one side hill as her personal F1 test track. We ascended in a dizzying, zig-zagging fashion - forward a few yards, then a sharp, violent reverse up the incline, then forward again. It was a terrifying, balletic demonstration of vehicular control. With spine tingling precision, she kept the tyres mere inches from the precipice, treating the sheer drop to our deaths as a fun little guardrail. We arrived at the top invigorated, saying to each other how that was the best entrance to a hotel we’ve ever had and slightly confused over what just happened. But the service wasn't over. As we stumbled out and reached for our luggage, we were slapped again (metaphorically, this time, mostly) and sternly instructed to go inside while Tank, the one-woman moving crew, finished the job. It was one of the most absurd, terrifying, and hilarious arrivals we've ever experienced. Later, at our fancy five-course dinner in the onsen house, who should be serving us, clearing plates, and generally running the entire operation? Tank. Our conclusion? Takimikan isn't run by a management team. It's run by a single, middle-aged Japanese woman who has unlocked 100% of her human potential. She is THE ryokan. And she is awesome.

The ryokan is famously known as the “Inn of Waterfalls and Soba Noodles,” and for good reason. From the open-air bath (rotenburo), we had a breathtaking, panoramic view of the mountainside and the cascading Shirogane Waterfall—the perfect antidote to the rigid train seats and tight transfers. I enjoyed a lovely massage over the waterfall before dinner where we were served a five course meal in traditional Japanese food. Which was highly experimental for me, the food itself consisted nearly entirely of raw fish, and raw beef. An experience for sure and it was very cool. However, I don't think I want to be eating it often.

While Takimikan offered relaxation, the real magic was found by walking a short distance down the hill into the heart of Ginzan Onsen town. Taishō Romance Architecture - The town is renowned for its historic wooden ryokan (traditional inns) that line both banks of the Ginzan River. These buildings, dating back to the late Taishō and early Shōwa eras (1912–1930s), create a stunningly nostalgic, uniform streetscape often called a representation of “Taishō Roman” (Taisho Romance). Enabled by the gaslight illumination. As the sun sets, the entire village is lit not by modern streetlights, but by charming, antique gas lamps. This soft, warm glow, especially when coupled with snow in the winter, transforms the narrow river valley into what many believe inspired scenes in the Studio Ghibli film Spirited Away. Wandering the cobblestone streets, dipping our feet into the Warashiyu public foot bath, and watching the steam rise from the river, it was clear that the stress of the tight train connections was a small price to pay for this utterly enchanting destination.

If there’s one thing a traditional Japanese inn encourages, it’s abandoning all Western sartorial sense and embracing the robe life. And when the ryokan provides you with a perfectly crisp, beautifully patterned yukata, you wear that thing. Outdoors. Like a civilized lunatic. So, there we were - Liao and I, strolling the small quaint Ginzan town streets, in what felt like a delicate cotton bath sheet, while the air temperature registered a bone-chilling -2 degrees Celsius. We were sartorial warriors against the cold, marching through the icy town like two highly dedicated, slightly confused extra characters who wandered off the set of a samurai drama. I felt ready for action, the action of slicing a foe, or more so in this case, taking some photographs with my DSLR camera. I swear, every other guest tucked safely inside their own inns or puffer jackets gave us these deep, appreciative glances. They weren't just admiring the fabric; they were recognizing the sheer, brass-plated commitment to the aesthetic. It was a look that said, "You two beautiful idiots. We respect your dedication, and we pity your extremities." To me, the robe felt less like a garment and more like a uniform. I was immediately transported back to my days in Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu. The tight knot of the belt, the flowing fabric... I was ready to drop into a low stance, execute a perfect throw, and then immediately shatter into a thousand pieces of frozen flesh. We were frozen, fabulous, and insane. I imagine we looked less like honored guests and more like two very important, slightly chilly leaders of a small, cult-like organization whose main tenet is: "If you freeze for fashion, you win." And frankly, I wouldn't have it any other way.

After a long day of train rides followed by being catered to, having onsens, massages and robes I was truly relaxed, I remarked on just how damn good I would sleep tonight. However, mother nature had other plans for me. Just before bedtime at 1030pm my stomach must not have agreed with all the experimental raw fish dishes and vegetables I had been eating. I slowly felt my stomach get more and more upset until oh no, it was throw up time. my primary residence was the floor in front of the toilet bowl. I was glued to the porcelain altar, performing a violent, 30 second interval gastric exorcism. Every retch brought with it the distinct, traumatic flavor profile of the raw sardines I had so bravely, or stupidly, ingested earlier. I'm fairly certain I now have sardine PTSD. The sheer, Herculean effort required to eject every molecule of food I had ever eaten eventually had consequences. The stomach cramps hit with the force of a small meteorite, and the complete lack of electrolytes transformed my body into a human vibrator. Hitting hard. Leaving me shaking violently on the floor worrying my best friend Liao quite a bit. Luckily by 3am I had thoroughly emptied my stomach of everything (and possibly my soul), I was able to fall asleep from sheer exhaustion. I must conclude that this is what I get for being too experimental with food. So, from now on, consider this my official medical excuse to ditch the exotic vegetables and fish. I’m sticking to my appalling, tried and true diet of Coke, steak, and industrial-grade carbs. Because if a gastrointestinal apocalypse is the price of trying to be cultured, I’m perfectly happy being a well-fed, non-shaking barbarian.

Unfortunately the next day was a trip to Tokyo followed by a flight home to which I was fairly sedated for. I slept the whole shinkansen ride to tokyo and slept in my hotel all day, emerging for a teppanyaki dinner with liao we had booked 2 weeks prior. Where they cooked the food right in front of you. Frankly, compared to our beef at Akita it was triple the price and ⅓ as good. I ended up giving Liao most of my food. The plane flight back to Sydney the next day I managed to sleep throughout the whole flight (even though it was a day flight), and slept soundly all through the night at home. Where I now write this final blog piece for my dear readers.

Japan was awesome, I want to go back. Liao remarked on how much he enjoyed going rural and getting the proper Japanese experience, which made Tokyo feel like a neutered and catered experience now after seeing the real Japan.Read more