Draw Me Your Japan... (page 1 of 4)

Hi there!

I’m inviting you on a stroll through my drawings—a completely subjective, far from exhaustive, and totally personal take, since it’s based on my own sketches. I put this travel journal together after returning in late 2024, mostly using felt-tip pens and pencils, with a few collages thrown in. I worked from our personal photos.

Let’s start with the shotengai...



Our first "wow" moment came as we stepped out of the subway in Asakusa, the Tokyo neighborhood where we’d booked our hotel for our first five nights. Exhausted after our long flight, we finally arrived and took an exit that led straight into a shotengai—one of those covered shopping streets that pop up in city centers and flourished between the 1950s and 1980s.

It was an instant aesthetic shock, like a close encounter of the third kind between the modern city, a typical Asian market with its street stalls, the vintage vibe of the arcade, the sheer abundance of goods, and the bustling crowd—a mix of tourists, pilgrims (thanks to nearby Senso-ji Temple), and locals (it’s a very working-class area). In the end, it set the tone for a feeling we’d experience throughout the trip. Wherever we went, shotengai turned out to be fantastic spots for finding little restaurants, shops, or even fresh produce. Some are like real mazes, like in Kyoto, where we spent ages trying to relocate a restaurant we’d loved ;-)

In Kanazawa, the Omicho Market: And in Kyoto, Nishiki Market:

To be continued...

Nice! That’s really interesting. Can’t wait to read and see what’s next. Thanks for sharing!

This immediately brings to mind this image, resonating with everything we’d seen of Tokyo long before arriving... Here we are in Ueno, at the entrance to the famous Ameya Yoko street, one of the gateways to the bustling Ameyoko market.



The entrance to the street looks like a giant screen. A great depth, with skyscrapers in the background and, in the foreground, a forest of neon lights and that large gateway marking the entrance to the street and the market (which continues into the adjacent alleys). Everything collides—visually and sensorially—eras, places (ultra-modern next to the Asian market and its street food), smells, colors. Again, that feeling of parallel worlds merging and blending, like some kind of giant shaker that leaves us both stunned, drained, and hypnotized...

Change of scenery: here we are, all three of us in Ginza, in our usual formation—me in front (Charlie one), my daughter in the back (Charlie 3), and my husband in the middle (Charlie 2). Since I’m the one with the Wi-Fi router, I don’t let them out of my sight so easily 😉



Now, let’s talk a bit about traditional neighborhoods. In big cities, they’re receding more and more, except when they’ve become a tourist attraction that outweighs real estate developments. Of course, we all have photos of Kyoto and the Gion district in mind; the latter is now, at its heart, off-limits for photography due to the excesses of a certain type of tourist who treated the area like an open-air zoo.

So, three antidotes to that: First antidote: Step away from the crowd and go "to the edges." For example, in Kyoto, on the outskirts of Gion, I recommend walking along the Shirakawa canal—it’s much quieter and even downright bucolic:



A tiny shrine at the corner of Shinbashi Street, the Tasumi-Jinja:

Second antidote: Visit cities that are still off the beaten path for mass tourism and frantic urban development, like a city that was my big crush: Kanazawa. It’s a city with impressive heritage and stunning traditional neighborhoods, like the samurai district below:

(The samurai is a drawing I reproduced) In the same city of Kanazawa, one of Japan’s most beautiful gardens, Kenroku-en, just steps from the castle:

Third antidote: Small towns in rural areas, even touristy ones—here, the traditional district of Takayama in the Japanese Alps:

In Tokyo, a few pockets still remain, like in the Ningyocho district—Amazake Yokocho street, the Okannon-ji temple, and if you love daifuku mochi, don’t miss the Ginze Aakebono pastry shop nearby.

To be continued!

The Taste of Japan

Going to Japan is also about experiencing a wonderful culinary adventure.

We delighted in (and were occasionally surprised by) the mosaic of Japanese cuisine and its hyper-specialized restaurants: when you go out with a group, you have to agree BEFOREHAND on what you’re going to eat! Of course, we paid homage to raw fish in all its forms (which, for simplicity’s sake, I’ll just call sushi), with a preference for tuna or other local fish. We try to avoid salmon, since it’s the result of a highly effective Norwegian marketing campaign that’s managed to make salmon a staple since the 90s, and we prefer other fish. We enjoyed ourselves everywhere, with a special mention for the ones we tasted in Kanazawa, right in the heart of Omicho Market.

Next, it’s highly recommended to treat yourself to at least one traditional dinner at a ryokan, with its succession of small dishes served on adorable tableware. Your palate, sometimes bewildered, will appreciate (or not—but that’s part of the discovery) a mix of boiled, pickled, grilled, raw, steamed, fried, and marinated flavors. Our senses are fully engaged, and we encounter tastes we’re not used to. Below, a collage and drawing representing the traditional dinner we had at an onsen inn in Hakone. The service was impeccable, and the experience was elevated by good sake, sipped throughout the meal like wine. That night in Hakone, we dined in our traditional apartment, and the futon wasn’t far from the table—lucky for us! Before dinner, we’d soaked in the hot springs and each had a bottle of beer… not to mention the sake…

Moving on from those indulgences… I also discovered *tonkatsu*, which I’d never tried before. It’s a crispy fried cutlet served with a sauce topped with sesame seeds that you crush at the table in a special bowl with a wooden pestle (bottom of the image below; the top shows the gorgeous knife we treated ourselves to):

And of course, the different types of noodles, like the delicious buckwheat soba or ramen, which you often enjoy at the counter of tiny, packed restaurants… the length of the line outside is usually a good sign (especially if it’s not just tourists).

To wrap up, what’s better than a chill evening with music or a good whisky tasting?



Travel is a kind of suspended moment, where, free from everyday worries and stress, you can make the most of these shared experiences for the greatest happiness with our daughter.

To be continued!

You might think, dear reader, that nothing can stop me once I get started... And it's true—I just can't help it! Plus, I've wanted to share about Japan for so long that I'm thrilled to have finally found the thread to follow (even if it's a bit scattered—though I can make sense of it, and that's what matters).

For what will probably be my last post of the day (there *is* life outside Voyage Forum, after all ;)), I want to share my love for Japanese drawing and my admiration for their genius.

· This is without pretension, especially since during my first trip, I didn’t have the time to explore everything I wanted—particularly the full spectrum of modern graphic art. We’ll stick to the "classic" stuff for now, but since we’ve decided to return to Japan in autumn 2027, I’ll make sure to dive deeper then! Here, I’ll just pay tribute to some great "classic" artists, like Kitagawa Utamaro (first image, drawing and collage) and Utagawa Hiroshige (the next two). Of course, Katsushika Hokusai is a must, but sorry—I didn’t reproduce him in my travel journal. In the 19th century, Western artists were blown away by their discovery of these works, and they had a decisive influence on some of our great Impressionist painters.



(Above, I modified the original by adding Mount Fuji) I highly recommend visiting the Tokyo National Museum, where you can admire magnificent prints.

I’d also like to include calligraphy in this tribute. Below isn’t a reproduction by my hand but a *goshuin*—one of those seals you can get as an offering at a temple. In most temples, you’ll see the calligrapher at work, chanting as they move with a fluid, masterful wrist. The best part? Bring a notebook with the right kind of paper—one that absorbs ink well. You can buy them at temple shops.



I think this heritage fuels Japanese talent for visual creation, design, animation, and even mascot-making—it’s practically a national sport! Below, you’ll see Nara’s mascot, followed by Kanazawa’s (that mustachioed ball-doll thing).





Finally, I think this also influences manga, as well as the way some young Japanese express themselves through fashion to stand out from the sometimes *very* conformist norms of Japanese society—like these girls we saw on Takeshita Street in Tokyo.



That’s all for this slightly rambling stroll—I hope you enjoyed it! Until next time.

Hello,

Congrats on this AMAZING travel journal! Have you thought about publishing your awesome sketches?

I’ll be following along with interest—I’m thinking of heading to Japan in 2027 (this year it’s South Korea for me).

Keep up the great work! !

Hello,

Congrats on this AMAZING travel journal! Have you thought about publishing your beautiful sketches?

I’ll be following along with interest—I’m planning to go to Japan in 2027 (this year it’s South Korea for me).

Bravo again!

Thanks, Marie, that really warms my heart. This journal is a modest project with two goals: 1) to bring *me* a lot of joy and satisfaction in creating it (I’m pretty proud of myself), and 2) to let me share with my friends in a simpler way than an avalanche of photos. I figured I could share it with the VoyageForum community too, but that’s it!

South Korea... Yes, we’ll add it to our list. Our daughter, who joined us on our trip to Japan, had previously traveled to Korea with her friends, and she loved it!

Best regards

Thanks for this really lovely and original travel journal. I love the drawings, I love your comments, I love the vibe it gives off... in short, I love it a lot! !

The wait was totally worth it! A gorgeous original travel journal, beautifully illustrated. Thanks! And here’s one more addict to this fabulous Japan!!! Welcome to the club.

Thanks for this really lovely and original travel journal. I love the drawings, I love your comments, I love the vibe it gives off... in short, I love it a lot!

Thanks so much! 😎

The wait was totally worth it! A gorgeous original travel journal, beautifully illustrated. Thanks! And here’s another addict joining the fabulous Japan fan club!!! Welcome to the club.

Thanks! Yep, we’re hooked now...

I love this travel journal illustrated with amazing drawings instead of the usual photos. Can't wait for the next installment! 🙂

I love this travel journal illustrated with gorgeous drawings instead of the usual photos. Can't wait for the next part! 🙂

Thanks Muriel! Glad you liked this share.

The Nakasendo "We want to see the wizard, the wonderful wizard of Oz" sang Judy Garland. Some people won’t get it, too bad—but on that paved path winding through the hills, I often had that tune in my head, even if I wasn’t wearing ruby slippers. The Nakasendo was "the road through the mountains" that connected the old capital Kyoto to the city of Edo, future Tokyo, during the Edo era (17th–19th century). Only a few original sections remain, restored, where you can hike. That’s what we did, and we loved every minute of it. Below is the route we took—just under 20 km on foot, over hills, valleys, deep ravines with waterfalls, and majestic forests. A stunning landscape with countless viewpoints. Experienced hikers could do it in a day, but we split it into two, with a lovely stop in the middle at the beautiful village of Magome.

Our hike started at Nakatsugawa Station, where we arrived around 11:30 AM (from Hakone, via Nagoya). After grabbing some picnic supplies, we quickly found the Nakasendo, which is very well marked. We were traveling light: our big bags had already been sent ahead 24 hours earlier from Tokyo straight to Matsumoto, so we only had small backpacks for 3 days and 2 nights. We left the inhabited areas behind and ventured into the countryside. We stopped here and there, passing a few hikers going the opposite way. A group overtook us—we took our time, enjoying the spring-like sun, even though it was October 31st! The scenery was gorgeous. What did it look like three centuries ago? With all our stops and not being experienced hikers, we arrived in Magome-Juku around 4 PM. The village, straddling the Nakasendo as it climbs almost straight up the hill, was prosperous during the Edo era before fading into obscurity when the Nakasendo was replaced by other routes (and the train). But its revival a few decades ago, thanks to hiking tourism, brought it back to life. It now looks just as it did in the 18th century, beautifully restored.

It’s a wonderful place to spend an evening and night, staying in a traditional inn. The next morning, we set off again under bright sunshine. The toughest part for us was the trail up to Magome Pass (though seasoned hikers would call it a breeze). After the pass, we crossed vast forests. The tall, slender trees let the sunlight through, making the paving stones glisten. The Nakasendo looked like a long silver ribbon (and yep, Judy Garland was back in my head).

The path was breathtaking. We stopped at the Tateba tea house and took a detour to admire the waterfalls. This is also where I should mention Tanuki. It’s when you’re walking that you notice the little details, and that’s when I really spotted this ceramic figure. I kept seeing it everywhere afterward—in front of shops and restaurants, and even in the countryside, next to the gate of an isolated house. It’s always placed just right to welcome visitors and bring luck and prosperity to the business or household.

At first glance, Tanuki might not seem like much—it’s a real animal, the raccoon dog, which looks like a badger or raccoon but is actually a canid. It’s also a "yokai," a forest spirit. It’s depicted with oversized testicles (I’ll get back to that) and various attributes: a straw hat to ward off trouble, a sake flask (it’s a fun-loving creature), and an empty purse (it’s not always good at paying its debts). It has magical powers: it can shapeshift (turning into objects or animals), its round belly acts like a hypnotic drum, and—most importantly—its testicles have all sorts of uses. It uses them as weapons, tools, fishing nets, umbrellas, or even parachutes. According to unverifiable sources, it can stretch them to cover an area of 8 tatami mats—or even 1,000. Not bad. Either way, I found it oddly charming. By early afternoon, we arrived in Tsumago-Juku, another stunning village. Just in time, too—the sky had clouded over, and rain was threatening. We took a bus to Nagiso Station and then a train to Matsumoto. We couldn’t wait to explore the Japanese Alps! The high hills gradually gave way to mountains. The train is often the best way to take in the scenery, and we were spoiled—the autumn colors were just starting to take over the forests. We’re on the train, and we’re LOVING it. To be continued!

Matsumoto Castle, night. White marker and pencil on black paper. Some images stay etched in your memory for a lifetime. I think this one will be one of them, forever. Behind the scenes: we arrived in Matsumoto under pouring rain, famous for its castle but also for wasabi root, which is grown here in abundance. We head to our hotel and relax, hoping the rain will ease up. The rain stops as night falls, and we decide to walk to the castle—about 15 to 20 minutes away—before dinner. It’s already pitch dark when we arrive at the castle… and then I’m left breathless. The beauty takes my breath away. The "Black Crow," as it’s called due to the color of its wooden framework, is one of Japan’s "national treasures" because it’s one of the 12 original wooden castles still standing from the late 16th century. At night, the strategically placed spotlights illuminate only the whitewashed parts, like a giant negative, and the image is doubled by its perfect reflection in the moat. I feel like I’m INSIDE a magic lantern. We stand there, hypnotized, waiting for the black crow to take flight, like in a Miyazaki film.

Another place, another moment... Himeji Castle, marker, pencil, watercolor

A little leap in space, here’s the "inverted twin" of the Black Crow—the "White Heron" in Himeji, which we’ll visit a week later. Its wooden framework is entirely whitewashed, gleaming under the bright sun. Another magical place, but with a few more tourists (though Matsumoto was already busy). It’s best to arrive early because just after us, the visit was temporarily halted to regulate the flow, and the top floor felt a bit claustrophobic (since each floor gets smaller). The castle is stunning from afar… and up close, it’s just as breathtaking. When you’re right underneath and look up at the succession of roofs and visible framework, you can’t help but be amazed by the builders’ genius and craftsmanship.

Good evening Fabienne, I love these beautiful creations of yours. Are you going to publish them?

Thanks Mathews for this feedback, it really makes me happy. Actually, I draw mostly for myself—it’s pretty rare for me to share like this. But it encourages me to do it more!

I’m checking out your work again—it’s really amazing. And I mean that sincerely, even though I’m pretty picky myself.

I was wondering if you draw during every trip, and if so, do you always use the same style or does it change depending on the destination?

I’m checking out your work again—it’s really amazing. And I’m being totally sincere here, since I’m pretty picky myself.

Thanks Mathews, that means a lot. Even though I draw for myself, encouraging feedback really matters.