Two weeks in Japan during cherry blossom season. My first time in Asia, and nothing quite prepared me for it.
Tokyo is sensory overload in the best way. Shibuya at night feels like stepping into the future. But the real magic was in the quiet moments — early morning at Senso-ji before the crowds, a tiny ramen shop in Shinjuku where the chef had been making the same bowl for forty years.
Kyoto slowed everything down. The temples, the gardens, the ritual of it all. I spent an entire afternoon at Fushimi Inari, walking the thousand torii gates until the tourists thinned and it was just me and the mountain.
Osaka was for eating. Takoyaki from street vendors, okonomiyaki at hole-in-the-wall spots, everything delicious and unpretentious.
I came back with 3,000 photos and a list of reasons to return.