- Hokkaido & Tokyo 1 – 10 July 2026
July 1
The Toyota Rental Car shop was only a very short taxi ride from the Abashiri Kankō Hotel but our driver managed to give us a a notably unique experience by nearly going through a stop sign. That sort of impoliteness just doesn’t happen here.
You only need to hire a slow cheap car here – the open road speed limit is 60 kph, with 40 – 50 in built up areas which makes sense to the locals because their country roads are as narrow and poorly maintained as ours are in New Zealand, the difference being that that worries them. Their very low road toll is, I suspect, mostly due to people falling asleep through boredom, while we manage to kill each other at four times the rate by having higher speed limits and far too many drivers puffing P to stay alert. That’s not the way they do things here – respect and harmony win.
Our first stop was the Museum of Northern Peoples which showcases the whole northern hemisphere above this latitude, not just the Ainu. It’s a stunningly good museum, carefully curated into 36 displays which cover all aspects of the way of life and the history of people who live in these harsh and brutal climes. The Ainu, the original inhabitants of Hokkaido, are one of the most southern of these, and were heavily suppressed and oppressed by the Japanese mainlanders during the 19th century, extinguishing their language and culture in much the same way as Americans, Canadians, Australians, and British New Zealanders did to their respective indigenous people. What an insecure pack of pricks our forefathers were, unable to tolerate people who simply lived differently. I wonder about “developed” nations sometimes.
Then it was time to check out the Abashiri Prison Museum. The worst of Japan’s criminals were sent here and in the second half of the 19th century were put to work building the roads which opened up Hokkaido to development. They were not valued highly and 20% perished. We enjoyed a “prison lunch” at the restaurant, then drove sedately south to Kushiro to look at a bird.
July 2
The red crowned crane is a monstrous thing, 1.5 m tall and gorgeous, revered as a god by the Ainu and hunted almost to extinction during the 20th century, with habitat destruction almost completing the job. The local population has improved from 30 in the 1960s to 2000 now and the work continues.
We saw a couple in the wild while biking last week, but they go deep into the wetlands in summer so there were none at the usual viewpoints. We contented ourselves with a visit to the rehab centre and took far too many photos.
Next on the list was Ainu culture. Akan is a well forested area, with different, more varied trees than we are used to, and with no wilding pines and no litter along the roads anywhere the landscape felt quite foreign. Known as an Ainu centre, Akan town is a slightly tired TMZ, with lakeside hotels. It’s a lovely lake with tame wild deer providing a foreground for our cliche photos, but the town feels like it was built 30 or 40 years ago for a tourist boom that never quite arrived, and we joined about a dozen local tourists in a 300 seat theatre to tolerate a rather lacklustre display of Ainu dancing. The onsen was good though in our hotel, and I’m becoming much more supple sleeping on futons on the tatami matted floor.
July 3
The beautiful drive – mostly on quiet back roads at a soporific 60 km/hr – through Daisetsuzan National Park would have been even more spectacular had the deeply atmospheric mists lifted. The Navigator even found a proper gravel road which was not much rougher than many of the mosaically patched and potholed tar-sealed roads they have here.
We’ll hole up in a vast loft apartment in Asahikawa, the 2nd largest city in Hokkaido, pop 320,000, for a couple of nights.
July 4
Hokkaido is famous for its flowers, so we drove out to the Furano area to check them out. The famous Panoramic Gardens was TMZed to hell, with tractors towing trailer-fulls of cameras attached to tourists producing a cacaphony of clanging nursery rhymes. Farm Tomita was free with much bigger fields surrounded by much more tasteful TMZs, and the traffic was a lesson in Japanese patient queuing. A superb convenience store lunch fuelled a gentle, winding, and very picturesque trip home.
Later on some retail therapy at the biggest mall in town did not reveal anything too unexpectedly bizarre until we came to the puppies for sale or rent ($NZ4,OOO to buy, or $200/month to rent – we hoped they meant rent-to-buy) and with our minds suitably boggled, we traipsed around the corner to join a queue of locals waiting for entry to a famous small ramen restaurant, Ramen Santoka. Mine was salty and creamy, and Jill’s soy ramen with braised pork cheek redefined how good meat can taste. The pork broth is brought to the boil once only, and served at the temperature it is kept at, and my poorly pronounced gochisosama deshita did not truly capture my gratitude for the simple excellence they served.
July 5
We had an early start today because we had to drive serenely over 200 km to drop the car and catch the plane. We chose a route which took us a fox farm, and what a sad little enterprise it was. It was part of the 1980s boom and for some reason it hasn’t yet joined the corpses of tired old tourist relics from the earlier boom, but it can’t be far away. There are maybe a dozen, mainly old red foxes, some unfortunately imprisoned behind glass in tiny stalls and the whole thing takes less than 10 minutes if you walk slowly. We gave it a Don’t Bother rating and sped on, finally noticing that the speed limit is displayed on the driver’s display automatically in this technologically advanced nation.
We only had to put 25 litres of petrol in the car (a smallish hybrid Toyota) for about 700 km, but if you drove anything at this speed all day you’d get the same economy.
We arrived at the airport with half an hour to spare, feeling rather pleased with ourselves, only to be told that our flight left from a similarly-named but entirely different airport some 120 km away. At this point we realised that he who shall not be named had buggered things up right royally. [Can’t blame the Navigator this time – Ed.] The wonderful charming young things behind the counter sorted us out with refunds and new (way more expensive) tickets, without making us feel that we were any bother whatsoever; in fact they loved helping us out and were sorry we were leaving them but happy to see us on our way.
All the travellers tales of vast and complicated train systems in Tokyo are wrong.
Having an excellent Navigator on hand, we walked out of baggage claim at Haneda Airport, down a couple of flights of stairs and straight onto the monorail to Hamamatsucho, straight onto another train and 6 stops later walked 5 minutes to our home for the next 5 nights. We later discovered that Google Maps is even better at directions here, to the point of advising which carriage is nearest your next exit.
We were in Taiko City, 6 km out of central Tokyo, and its tiny streets, and simple suburbness, along with its mandatory silence at night would prove to be exactly the welcome respite we would need after our daily 20,000 steps around the city.
I googled “best ramen near me” and we walked 10 minutes to Craft Ramen where we had a genuine Midnight Diner experience. I’m going to spend the rest of my life trying to replicate the savoury glazed mushrooms on rice.
July 6
I turned nanajuroku years old today and I’m very happy about it. I must have 七十六 printed on a t-shirt.
A great euro-style breakfast at a local cafe, coffee not as good as convenience stores here, but the toasted avo sandwich and Jill’s calzone were a welcome break from rice and fish.
We did some sightseeing on the wrong train for a few stops, sorted ourselves out and got to the Tsujiki Fish Market to meet up with David from last week’s group ride. The actual market is surrounded by a few streets of tourist-packed TMZ, all the family groups having an authentic experience which they will remember forever, but us old cynics retreated to a local food hall for excellent tempura.
We subwayed to Shiboya to walk the famous busiest intersection in the world and buy me a backpack at Hands, did some heavy retail work for a while – Don Quixote, pronounced “Donkey” by the locals, was heaving, dazzling, jangling and bizarre – then bounced to Shenjuku to check out the 3D cat. That knocked off the two busiest train stations in the world in one easy step – actually about 5,000 easy steps. We probably could have walked from one to the other entirely underground – enormous doesn’t begin to describe them. That ticked off today’s cliches and we found a tiny, genuine restaurant, Shinpachi Shokudo Seibu, just an ordinary small chain restaurant where you order on the iPad on the table and quickly receive a sublime and exquisite meal served by people who seem genuinely, humbly grateful that you have chosen them to feed you. Typical, really.
Perhaps most typical of the country and these people, I especially remember the young mother of two well-behaved toddlers on a crowded train treating me to a beautiful smile and murmured arigato as I managed to secure her a couple of seats by blocking other passengers. Everyone on trains is so concerned with not invading anyone’s space that they bury themselves in their phones, completely shutting off the world around them, and nobody seemed inclined to make room. Misplaced politeness, perhaps, or not wanting to offend anyone by noticing them, but the habit of giving up your seat for the elderly or otherwise needy is conspicuous by its absence.
July 7
Art day. Misplaced Google reviews lead us to the Tokyo Museum of Art, but the promised great European art was nowhere to be seen, just vast halls of undoubtedly wonderful calligraphy. We quickly left, glad that there was no entry fee for the elderly. That’s been the case at a few of the museums here.
The Museum of Western Art was a different beast. It was initiated in the early 20th century by a wealthy industrialist, Matsukata, with the aim of giving Japan some insight into the western mind. Outside there’s a big Rodin collection – I got a photo of Jill beside the third copy of The Thinker we have seen. Inside the collection begins with a large and, to my eyes, tedious, collection of 15th to mid 19th century stuff, before getting to the art that really interests me. Matsukata was a big fan of the Impressionists and became a good friend of Monet, purchasing a large number of his works directly from him, along with many others from that group. There’s a whole room of Monet, perhaps 20 works, including the original water lilies, painted in his Japanese garden at Giverney, completing a connection I hadn’t realized existed until now.
That would have been enough for me but Tokyo demands 20,000 steps a day so we had a quick lunch in a nearby station (air-conditioned and frequented mainly by locals, then found our way to a market full of junk, food and tourists, paused for a drink and were served the traditional, compulsory and expensive otoshi – a small serving that justifies a seating charge. That’s a tradition that jars with me, but is apparently expected and anticipated by locals.
After a wee zizz we went again to Shinjuku to see the young things emerging from the station dressed to kill in their frills, bows, lace, school-uniform gear and goth boots – sometimes all in one ensemble – and check out a less-than-whelming light show on a big government building. Dinner was a quick yakitori snack in the Memory Lane area – a TMZ but fun anyway. The subway was still crowded after 10 on a Tuesday night.
July 8
First stop, Kurashige Yamasuke tools, tucked away anonymously on the third floor of an unmarked building way out in the sticks. A random guy saw us checking our phones outside and ushered us in and up to a room the size of our living room packed with artisan tools. I didn’t buy any chisels, kannas (hand-forged blades sold dull for the craftsman to hone to their chosen perfection) or hammers (so that’s what balance feels like) but I fell for a couple of pull saws and Jill finally found her perfect kitchen knife. After a konbini lunch we strolled out again to look at a relatively untouched old corner of town, Yanaka, miraculously undestroyed by the ‘23 earthquake and American carpet bombing in ‘45, home to many cats, a very good little shopping street and almost no tourists except us.
It didn’t seem far to the Museum of Contemporary Art so with only about 1 hour walking in between 2 trains we arrived at a really impressive example of modern architecture, with halls sparsely populated by inexplicable things, although the pages of art wank beside each piece did valiantly attempt to provide some insight.
Home through the rush hour in the quiet and polite subways. We missed the katsudon next door at the tiny tonkatsu restaurant because they close quite early, and the ramen down at the corner was only OK, although it would probably win awards back home.
July 9
One of the major highlights of this trip. You can keep your thoughtfully designed gardens, spectacular temples and waterfalls and head straight for the MiPig Cafe in Asakusa in Tokyo. While seething hoards of tour groups swarmed the famous Buddhist temple and gardens and had their authentic shopping experience in the surrounding TMZ, we went up a steep flight of stairs and played with miniature pigs. Bloody marvelous and I had to learn how to say we were very happy in Japanese (totemo ureshii).
Then off to Ginza, the poshest of all posh shopping streets, where the subway emerged next door to Tiffanys, with Issy Miyake, Rolex, Cartier, and Paul Smith etc. all vying in vain for our attention. We found the Muji flagship store around the corner and had a gorgeous pastry or two and a perfect iced coffee before a very successful and reasonably-priced bout of retail therapy. If they would only make clothes for portly Westerners as well as teeny locals.
We subwayed to within 10,000 steps of the Imperial Palace but ran out of oomph in the humid 35° and only got as far as the second moat. The grounds are vast and would probably take a day to explore if we were interested but we’re not, and we’re off to Kyoto tomorrow anyway.
The highlight of the day, and one of the great dining experiences of this trip, was right next door to our apartment, a tiny 6-seater tonkatsu restaurant called 花とくor Hana toku. It’s run by an elderly woman and her daughter, there are only 4 items on the menu, and I really wish we had gone sooner because we could have eaten here every night. We both had katsudon and I should have ordered the katsu curry, in fact I thought I had, but there was no English spoken or written and the don was delicious anyway.
July 10
On our way to catch the Shinkansen to Kyoto, we dropped into the world’s largest electronic store, Yodobashi Akiba. Seven enormous floors full of everything from phones to fridges. We only bought a phone cover for Jill’s phone because we don’t need anything but it was interesting to see the first floor (ground floor here) almost completely full of iToys with only an acre or so at the back dedicated to Android things; actually not unexpected in a country that places such emphasis on being quiet, refined and conservative. On the PC floor above they had a large section of Sake and craft beer – an interesting and revealing exercise in associative marketing.
Further along the overhead railway line there was a group of about 50 artisan stores actually under the tracks, with designer bags, pottery, bags, furniture, bags, clothing and some beautiful bags. Finally, a showcase of good Japanese design.
It was too hot to be tourists so we retreated to Shinegasen station to wait to be taken at up to 292 kph to Kyoto. A modern and excellent no-frills hotel awaited us 10 minutes walk from the station, a konbini opposite, and with several restaurants nearby we were able to satisfy our need for katsu curry with a short stroll over the river.