Results for "Japon"

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...

Autumn 2025 marks my 11th trip to Japan. I’ve neglected the south for too long, so like last year, it’s my main destination again.

We’ll revisit some familiar spots, but of course, we’ll also try plenty of new things. This trip feels a bit strange—no more of that initial magic, but on the other hand, we’ve really explored some off-the-beaten-path and private locations. The variety of regions, landscapes, and vehicles I’ve photographed is pretty remarkable. In search of vintage trains and threatened lines, I think my future trips will follow the same vibe.

After the 2017 and 2024 travel journals, it’s time to dive into Japan’s lesser-known side—all by public transport, of course. Day 1, arrival in Tokyo

The timing won’t be like other years since we arrive at Narita in the mid-afternoon after a layover in Hong Kong.

The only real mission for this afternoon is picking up tickets for the next day. And already, the first travel stress: I’ll have to rewrite the entire day because the Revaty Kinu 109 to Kinugawaonsen is fully booked, just like all the morning trains. So instead of a relaxed start exploring Ueno, I’m back to scrutinizing schedules. I manage to snag something last-minute after struggling for hours. Then, I wait for a message from Seiichi to meet up for dinner. Meeting friends on the first day and staying up late with jet lag—like I said, this trip isn’t like the others.

A great evening at a place I love.

I’m traveling to Japan with a young adult with autism (ASD) from July 28 to August 8, following a pretty classic route: Osaka, Hiroshima, Kyoto, and Tokyo. I’m looking for a schedule of the most spectacular fireworks displays during that time. So far, the dates for the major *hanabi* events aren’t available online yet. If anyone has them, I’d really appreciate it if you could share!

Hi everyone, I’m Julien! This summer, from late June to late July, I’m planning a one-month solo trip to Japan—my first time! I’d love to hear your thoughts and advice on the itinerary I’ve put together to explore this amazing country.

Here are the routes I’m considering:

**Option 1: More mountain and nature-focused**

Tokyo: 8 nights, with day trips to Nikko and maybe the Izu Peninsula Kawaguchiko (Lake Kawaguchi/Mt. Fuji): 1 night. The place looks stunning, but I’m worried Mt. Fuji might not be visible due to the weather Kyoto: 6–7 nights (including a trip to Nara) Osaka: 1–2 nights, where I’d like to drop off my things to make the Kumano Kodo easier Kumano Kodo: 3 nights—an experience I haven’t seen much elsewhere, but I thought it sounded really interesting Hiroshima: 2 nights Miyajima: 1 night Takayama: 3 days Kanazawa: 3 days (From what I understand, the Osaka–Takayama–Kanazawa–Tokyo route is convenient for transport) Tokyo: 1 night (return)

**Option 2: More varied but a bit vague in parts**

Tokyo: 8 nights Kyoto: 7 nights (+ Nara) Osaka: 2 nights Kobe + Himeji: just passing through—I’m not sure if it’s worth a night Naoshima: 1 night—still pretty unclear for me Takamatsu: 2 nights. An interesting city, but I’m not sure how long to stay Shimanami Kaido: biking from Imabari to Onomichi, then heading to Hiroshima Hiroshima: 2 nights Miyajima: 1 night Kyushu road trip (Aso + onsens + Fukuoka): 5 nights (also pretty vague—I could fly from Fukuoka back to Tokyo) Tokyo: 1 night

**Option 3: More balanced/simplified**

Tokyo: 8 nights Kawaguchiko: 1 night Kyoto: 7 nights (+ Nara) Osaka: 2 nights Koya-san: 1 night Kumano Kodo: 3 nights Takayama: 3 nights Kanazawa: 3 nights Tokyo: 1 night

A few key points: I haven’t made any reservations yet, except for the flight tickets. I know my plans are too packed and will need to be adjusted. I’m specifically looking for advice on which stops to cut or shorten.

Hi there, I’ll be traveling to Japan this coming August. We’ve finalized our itinerary and booked our flight tickets. Now I’m at the stage of buying train tickets for the few segments we’ll need to cover: Tokyo - Hakone Hakone - Kyoto Kyoto - Osaka Osaka - Tokyo Here are my questions: a) Is it possible to buy train tickets for these segments from Canada? b) If so, which website should I use to do this? c) And if it is possible, will we be able to print our tickets from Canada? d) If it’s not possible, where in Tokyo should I go to buy these tickets when I arrive?

Thanks a bunch,

Mario Séguin Québec, Canada

I'm planning a 19-day itinerary in Japan this summer. For a first trip, Kyoto seems like a must. For the rest, I'm torn between: - Matsumoto, Takayama, Kanazawa for 5 to 6 days - Kyoto 4 days - Nara 2 days - Koyasan 1 day - Hakone/Mount Fuji 2 to 3 days - Tokyo 3 days

Or dedicating the first 6 days to Kyushu.

Maybe there’s less traditional Japan in Kyushu compared to the Japanese Alps? Maybe Kyushu is less crowded? Thanks for your thoughts!

Hi there,

I’m leaving for Japan in a few weeks. I just noticed my passport has an ink stain on the signature page. Could this cause any issues?

Hi everyone, I’m often in transit in Tokyo and I stay at the hotel because Japanese people speak little English and the signs are almost always in Japanese! Any ideas for getting from Narita to a nice park or an onsen? I wanted to try Hokkaido, but apart from renting a car, it’s all trains! Any suggestions for a car with a driver? Or is it too expensive? Small group tours in Hokkaido? I read about the Explorator group’s offer—way too expensive!!! I’ve got a maximum of 8 days. I’d just like a nice Japanese break. Thanks for any tips you can share!

Hi, I was thinking of going to Japan in October, but the prices are currently insane—direct flights from Paris to Tokyo are around 1600-1800 €! Is it always like this, or is it just because I’m planning too far ahead? Thanks

Hi there,

I’m planning a 3-week trip to Japan in May with Voyage Privé. The package includes a 5 GB eSIM, but my phone isn’t new enough to support it. VP told me I could buy a SIM card when I arrive at the airport. Sure enough, I’ve seen online that this is possible with different providers. I only need it for checking routes, looking up addresses, train schedules, etc.—basically using Google Maps, TripAdvisor, and similar apps. No heavy downloads or major internet use. All hotels should provide free Wi-Fi for that, right? Has anyone got any tips for me on this? What have you tried, and how much did it cost? Thanks for your help!

Hello everyone,

I’m reaching out to you because I’m planning our next big trip (Japan is really tempting us for the autumn!) and I have to admit, I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed.

My husband and I have always loved traveling, and at 75, we have no intention of stopping... But I find that everything’s getting so complicated. I try to be "modern" by booking online, but as soon as there’s a problem, we hit a wall.

A friend nearly missed her departure last year because of a visa issue that wasn’t explained properly on a website... and no one to call for help, just automated messages.

It makes me a little nervous to be alone in front of a screen so far away, especially since at our age, we like knowing there’s real support if our health takes a turn while we’re there.

Anyway, I’m tired of seeing my file passed from one person to another without ever having the same contact... Do you know of any small, trustworthy agencies or people who still work the "old-fashioned" way and really look after their clients? I love my independence, but I need a real face behind my project.

Thanks in advance for your advice, and I look forward to reading your replies, Catherine

Hi there, I’m going on an organized trip to Japan in April and will have two free days in Tokyo. I’d love some tips on what to do during those two days. Thanks

It’s an understatement to say that Japan is a world apart. All around me, people exclaim: "How lucky you are to be able to go there! I’ve always dreamed of visiting, of finding myself in that culture blending tradition and technology!" Yes, they’re right. Until the moment their dreams become reality and things appear as they truly are, without the filter of fantasized preconceptions. Because in the collective unconscious, Japan indeed seems like a civilization—if not neutral—at least stripped of any social maturation. As if it had emerged all at once from its canonical ages, offering only the best of its traditions, and as if those traditions were undoubtedly the foundation of its extraordinary discipline. Yet, as always, the truth is far more complex. Modern Japan is likely shaped by its millennia-old traditions. But that Japan is also the result of its own uncertainties and contradictions. I’ve always been wary. I’ve never understood why the cleaning women on the platform bow when the train arrives. At some point, too much discipline, too much deference—it makes you smile, it raises questions.

Finally, thanks to F., a dream is coming true! Not the dream of going to Japan—a country I’ve visited more than any other, except for Réunion and the UK—but the dream of completing the fastest round-the-world trip of my career. Indeed, due to the restrictions imposed by the Russians*, the plane flies over the Caucasus and China on the way there; on the return, it gracefully heads toward the Arctic after skirting the Aleutian Islands, Alaska, and Greenland. So, in nearly 26 hours of flight, I complete my 6th round-the-world trip. A round-the-world trip with just one stopover. Or two, if you count our impromptu detour to Okinawa.

(* In response to Western sanctions, Russia closed its airspace to Western airlines on February 28, 2022, except for Air Serbia, Turkish Airlines, Pegasus, and Belavia. This decision adds 2 to 3 hours to flight times and, incidentally, increases operating costs.)

The empire of noise. The empire that dazzles. In Japan, the auditory and visual space is constantly fed. No respite. You have to be strong. Navigating public transport feels like playing the most advanced video game: moving between language barriers and a different organization, the hero tries to ignore the numerous visual and auditory distractions. Mostly auditory, though. Because in Japan, there’s a culture of noise that has undoubtedly inspired our national railways. Everything must be announced. So, here and there, all along the route, we find agents whose sole role is to endlessly repeat safety messages through megaphones more or less suited to the situation. The result is a constant murmur, a kind of tinnitus, a subtle but incessant buzz that fades only at bedtime and returns with a vengeance at first light, when we descend back into the supposedly sterile depths of Osaka’s subway. "To go right, please turn right, kudasaï. When descending the stairs, please mind the steps, kudasaï. To go straight, please take the left corridor, kudasaï." That *kudasaï* ("please" in Japanese), I assure you, has permanently lodged itself in my auditory cells.

Screens are no exception; the brain is constantly stimulated. But paradoxically, passengers massively retreat into their own worlds via their screens. Literally glued to their phones, earbuds firmly in place, people escape into the virtual aisles of a furniture store, a game, a movie... In the train cars, raised voices are rare. The field is clear for announcements and other jingles. Each stop is announced by a little tune unique to each station. Simply incredible.

If we usually judge a country by the welcome its inhabitants offer, in Japan, we’re left wanting. Indeed, the Lost in Translation* spirit doesn’t just apply to verbal exchanges—it applies to everything, especially non-verbal communication. In Japan, me, the slightly North African Corsican, I’m at a loss. I speak loudly, I gesture, in front of a hotel concierge just as lost. Each for our own reasons. Yes, he speaks some English, but we can’t seem to connect. It’s a losing battle trying to find a bit of compassion from a local who’s far from familiar with Western concerns. I try to buy tickets for the World Expo? I run into a systematization as rigid as it is abrupt, which the concierge can’t seem to navigate. While we might still have a shred of common sense, here in Japan, everything is digitized. Soon, no one will be surprised that a QR code becomes essential just to go to the bathroom.

(* Film by Sofia Coppola, released in 2003, which explores isolation, unease, Japanese culture, and language through the experiences of two protagonists.)

In the end, we get that ticket for the Expo. After providing personal information on yet another account created for the occasion, we buy electronic tickets—a QR code, then—to regulate the comings and goings, the souls and aspirations of all these wandering beings scattered across the globe. And it’s probably for the best... Because we’ll be tens of thousands of visitors—100,000 to 150,000 per day—walking the aisles of this enormous improvised amusement park, a kind of delirious superstructure surrounded by the Grand Ring, the largest wooden construction in the world. Inside the park, the pavilions, flagship vessels of their respective countries, compete in ingenuity, proportionate to their GDP, to attract visitors. But you have to wait up to two hours to visit the most popular ones! Fortunately, about a hundred countries can be explored without waiting in shared, more spacious areas. What will I remember from this adventure? The beauty of that wooden structure, despite any environmental or financial considerations—200M € for barely renewable elements; a certain poetry, even magic, in the expression of this event—conversing with Juliette Petit, the splendid representative of Vanuatu, had something indescribable; a close-up experience of Japanese discipline when it came time to return to the subway after that epic evening—thousands upon thousands of people converging at the same time toward a single place without any interruption in the flow.

But my real passion is the countryside. So, I’ll especially remember that brief escape, on the very first day, to the Mino-o waterfall, where the journey itself was already enchanting. Quickly leaving the underground lines, our train speeds through the city’s endless expanse and drops us at the foot of a hill, the abrupt edge of the urban sprawl. The slope was too steep to build anything? We leave behind an impressive hotel, a capitalist eyesore defying the laws of elevation to tackle the climb toward the waterfall. A bucolic walk where the stroller can choose between a paved path or more epic trails. Here and there, stalls, temples, everywhere, a certain serenity. The city’s pulse gives way to a magnificent spectacle magnified by giant sequoias. From the depths of a ravine, we try to glimpse the sky beyond the foliage. Everything is oversized. Here, you can breathe.

***

In reality, Japan has never undertaken any real work of memory. Aside from a few feeble gestures to appease Washington in its choice of Asian partners, one wonders if the Japanese have ever truly grasped the horror they were forced to participate in. While our Judeo-Christian society has more or less assimilated the notions of forgiveness and self-questioning, where does Japanese society stand, juggling a millennia-old Zen philosophy and the unabashed Machiavellianism of an emperor utterly possessed? Is it just me, or does there float in the atmosphere a kind of unease, a malaise, an awkward relationship with reality? For me, bowing to a train as it enters the station is just the result of a poorly directed moral dilemma...

Ah, how distant is the time of sakoku, that closure of the country—both concrete and ideological—that was in vogue for two centuries. Because if no one could enter, no one could leave either! A boon for neighboring countries. But from 1854, following the skirmishes of Commodore Matthew Perry, who demanded Japan’s participation in trade, the country suddenly became aware of the disparities separating it from the West. Bring Japan up to the level of other nations? Industrialization, competition, search for raw materials... Hirohito (1901–1989) emerges on the scene, a bit expansionist and willing to stop at nothing to achieve his goals. Above all, he knew how to use, in his own way, the incredible capacity for self-sacrifice of his people...

We protest, we condemn, we all rally behind an acceptable discourse when it comes to discussing the use of the atomic bomb. Yet, we forget one essential thing: Hiroshima wasn’t enough to make Hirohito yield. While we’re bombarded with anti-fascist elements, as if the sole purpose of school curricula were to prevent us from voting for the National Rally, we completely overlook those events of rare cruelty that took place on the other side of the globe at a time contemporary with Nazi atrocities. Why? Because it was farther away, on the other side of the world? Because we must both condemn the use of nuclear weapons and Nazism? What a dangerous game. Killing civilians is beyond comprehension, everyone agrees on that. But hasn’t Japan ever been guilty of such atrocities? Our empathy is legitimate; it won’t, however, remove from my mind the idea that there was no other solution. Nagasaki is the most telling proof of that.

At least in France, in school textbooks, Hitler will have completely overshadowed the existence of people crueler and more abject than him. Certainly, Adolf was a deeply disturbed man whom events propelled to power. But I’m justified in believing that his approach was probably more humane than that of Joseph Stalin at the height of his art*. And if Hirohito followed the same line as Hitler, in the sense that he represented the superior race, he would apply with conviction what was Stalin’s credo: contempt for his own people when sending them to slaughter, and an even fiercer contempt for the human race when it didn’t have the good fortune to be Japanese. Just look at how China was invaded and by what means millions of Chinese were annihilated, burned, deported, buried alive! Operation Scorched Earth or Three Alls Policy for kill all, burn all, loot all? No comment. Even today, the Japanese are convinced they waged a patriotic war, when clearly, that war served only vague ideological (and certainly economic) interests.

(* "In many ways, Hitler’s National Socialism was far more humane than Communism: it wasn’t unthinkable to speak to the SS or the Gestapo, and dissuading them from sending you to a prison camp wasn’t utopian. To some extent (compared to the Communists), you could still expect a semblance of justice. All those who lived under Hitler and under Communism will tell you: as the front lines shifted, they always managed to end up in Germany, where, though it was a strange place ruled by a madman, life went on. Under Communism, there was no life; totalitarianism was absolute. Probably, Hitler’s conservatism prevented him from fully imitating Bolshevism." Seraphim Rose in The Revolutions of the 19th and 20th Centuries (circa 1970))

In Naha, we visit two strategic sites: the Imperial Navy headquarters and Maeda Escarpment, in Urasoe, better known as Hacksaw Ridge. I love this confrontation with history. In the hand-dug tunnels of the headquarters, we meet Japanese people seeking information. They’re not responsible for this tragedy. Neither are we. I would have liked to tell them that, to hug them, to move on. To finally believe in those peace messages displayed here and there. Yes, it’s curious to read those calls for peace* when no real work of memory** has been undertaken. Two civilizations, two perspectives, a profound misunderstanding. When I analyze the waste of that war—and particularly the waste of those Pacific battles—like Peleliu in autumn 1944 and Okinawa in spring 1945—I can’t bring myself to share in the pathological patriotism that reigns within these walls. There, the room where the last message of Admiral Minoru Ōta was transmitted in Morse, praising the merits of the archipelago’s people. A tangled mix that, yes, is charged with positive emotions but, no, won’t remove from my mind the idea that this people was completely conditioned, completely disconnected from reality. Allying with the Axis powers? Invading the South Pacific? And finding that noble! Everyone sees things through their own lens.

(* Peace Declaration by Denny Tamaki, Governor of Okinawa, June 2020. ** "Recognizing the atrocities committed by one’s country requires a mix of democratic culture and self-confidence that is more the exception than the rule." Dominique Moïsi in Les Échos, April 30, 2015)

Okinawa. 200,000 dead. Stemming from bushido, the way of the warrior, this conditioning reached its peak with the kamikaze philosophy in particular and suicide in general. So, schematically, here’s how things went: as the island was encircled—Peleliu, Iwo Jima, Okinawa—and all hope was lost, the order was given to kill ten American soldiers before taking one’s own life. The deceit of this system, where surrender is synonymous with dishonor, involves creating tunnels and secret pockets where Japanese soldiers hide and from which they emerge. Long before the atomic bomb, the knell of their war had sounded. Hiroshima and Nagasaki are just the result of human pride, of which Hirohito’s reign is the finest example. Why was this henchman of Satan left in place until his death? I don’t understand. While the humiliation inflicted on Germany repeatedly was abject, especially for its people, the absence of any real and pressing accountability for Hirohito in this large-scale carnage he instigated leaves room for the wildest interpretations. As if to underscore my point, Emperor Naruhito visited Okinawa the same day we did, paying his respects to the inhabitants who fell in battle. I looked at the faces in the monorail serving the south of the island. There were elderly people who undoubtedly lost their parents eighty years ago. To what extent can they blame this tragedy on the delusional visions of their leaders?

On Maeda Escarpment, I salute the courage of Desmond Doss, that conscientious objector who fought to serve his country while refusing to ever carry a weapon. There, at the top of a steep ridge, you can see to the north the Allies’ advance, while to the south, the slope is gentler down to Shuri, in front of the headquarters. The underground is a Swiss cheese filled with enemies. Desmond works as a medic. He manages to save 75 wounded from certain death by evacuating them at night from the battlefield using makeshift ropes. Back in Osaka, far from the somewhat dilapidated tropical islands, I rediscover the splendor and grandeur of Japan’s second-largest city. To tell the truth, and this applies to Okinawa too, the density is so insane on this archipelago that you sometimes wonder if it’s not just one giant city spread across the vast territory. Because between Tokyo and Osaka, while there are some mountains and forests, it’s the city that dominates; during rush hour, a rapid train connects the two cities every five minutes. We get lost in rather quiet alleys parallel to the main streets, only to find ourselves in the covered and lively galleries of Dōtonbori. We’re looking for a place to eat—above all, we’re trying to navigate the unlimited options stretching endlessly along the sidewalks. It’s absolutely mind-blowing. And while I introduce F. to a part of history that our Western societies have quickly forgotten, he initiates me into Japanese gastronomy despite my well-known aversion to Asian food. But nothing beats having a master in the field! We feast on okonomiyaki, Japanese pancakes expertly prepared and served on a teppan embedded in our table.

Night falls on Japan, and I still haven’t found the answer. Like in Singapore, one can praise the calm and serenity of human relationships, the delicacy that may just be hypocrisy, the politeness, the discipline. But above all, we notice that in the absence of freedom, in the absence of madness, poetry struggles to take root, boredom looms, as does real madness. Bushido still exists, honor is there and must be preserved. But the youth drowns in electronics and in willingly sterile cults (otaku), unable to discern what’s essential, failing to believe in their dreams. You have to succeed? Young people commit suicide because of school bullying, the slightly older ones because of work-related difficulties or marital problems. Nothing exceptional, we might say—average*—but you’d expect better from a country so well-organized, a country that makes so many Westerners dream. Yes, night falls on Japan. Empire of noise, empire of the senses, a very strange land where you find clean toilets in subway corridors but where the very meaning of life seems stifled by the mirages of technology. Above all, a civilization deprived of a penance that would prove salutary. We’re caught between two waters. Those of a shallow modernity without depth or anchor; those of a past that was majestic but irreparably tainted by the demonic madness of an overly adored emperor.

How can one fully thrive when guilt has no outlet?

(* France and Japan share a common statistic of 17 suicides per 100,000 inhabitants, which, depending on density, means 30 per day in France and 70 in Japan...)

Hi, I’m planning a 20-day family trip to Japan in June 2026. I’d love to hear your thoughts on arriving in Tokyo and departing from Osaka (or vice versa)—not using the same airport for arrival and departure. I’m convinced it’s much more comfortable and avoids retracing our steps by train across Japan, but I get the feeling flight costs skyrocket.

Thanks for your input! :)

Best regards,

Joelle

Hi there, Barely back from my trip (autumn 2025) and I already want to go again! I’ve already done a 3-week stay (Tokyo-Kamakura-Nikko-Japanese Alps-Kyoto-Osaka-Koyasan-Nara).

So this time, a different trip: Day 1: departure Day 2: arrive in Osaka (stroll around the center in the afternoon) Day 3: day trip to Minoh Falls + Katsuo-ji Temple Day 4: Universal Studios. 1h20 train in the evening to Okayama Day 5: visit Okayama (Korakuen Gardens and the castle), then a 25-minute train to Kurashiki (evening stroll) Day 6: 45-minute bus to Fukuyama (day trip to Tomo no Ura). 20-minute train in the evening to Onomichi Day 7: electric bike excursion on the Shimanami Kaido (70 km round trip), return to Onomichi in the evening Day 8: stroll around the heights of Onomichi. In the afternoon, 1h20 train to Takehara Day 9: stroll in Takehara. In the afternoon, train to Hiroshima Day 10: day trip to Miyajima Day 11: explore Hiroshima, then train to Kyoto Day 12: Kyoto (Kinkaku-ji and Ryoan-ji area in the morning). Bus to Takao/Togano in the afternoon Day 13: Kyoto (northeast area—Shugakuin Imperial Villa and nearby temples in the morning), relaxed return to Gion in the afternoon via less crowded neighborhoods/temples Day 14: day trip to Uji Day 15: Kyoto (northern Arashiyama area in the morning). Train to Nakatsugawa in the afternoon Day 16: Day 1 of the Nakasendo Trail to Nagiso Day 17: Day 2 to Kiso Fukushima Day 18: Day 3 to Matsumoto (with train from Narai-juku) Day 19: train to Tokyo Day 20: Tokyo (still figuring this out). I’ve seen Shinjuku, Shibuya, and Asakusa. Day 21: return flight Day 22: arrival

Yes, there are a lot of short transports, but that doesn’t bother me.

Any thoughts? Thanks, Patrick

Hi, I’m traveling from Paris to Tokyo with a connection in Hanoi. My layover isn’t long (1h45), so I’m a bit stressed about missing my second flight to Tokyo. So I have a couple of questions: 1) Will my luggage go straight through, or do I need to collect it? 2) Do I have to go through everything again (customs, security, etc.)?

Just to clarify, my Paris-Tokyo ticket is with Vietnam Airlines.

Thanks for your help!

Hi there,

Since I’m completely unfamiliar with Japanese culture—we’ll be visiting in May—I have this question that might seem silly, but I’d rather not take any chances: I’m planning to wear long shorts (Bermuda shorts) during our trip. Could this be offensive or cause issues for certain visits?

The thing is, I’ll have to wear a knee brace, and it doesn’t stick well to pants but works much better directly on my skin. Since it’s too thick to wear underneath, Bermuda shorts seem like the perfect solution—case closed! Any thoughts?

Best, Caussat

Hi there,

We’re thinking of spending 3 weeks in Asia this fall to visit some of the major capitals on this vast continent. We’d like to get a (very rough) sense of just how fast Asia is moving compared to what we see in the West (we’re from Quebec). For now, our very preliminary list includes Tokyo, Hong Kong, and Singapore. There are obviously plenty of other options—Seoul, Shanghai, etc.

What do you think? Thanks in advance!