Sodden with Sake — Why Japan is the perfect destination for a solo (female) traveler.
But here and there, you gotta do it.
STOP.
Get yourself a beverage and a snack. Sake and sushi perhaps. Wine and french fries. Tea and crumpets. Whatever your poison, have it handy because this love letter ain’t for the weary. It’s long, but hopefully useful, and meant to be thorough.
Ready? Here we go. Round 2 of the Japan chronicles.
Japan as a destination is unmatched. Japan as a solo female destination is…well…I don’t know that there is a better place. Especially if you’re not into casual chats with strangers or making friends on random tours.
Maybe it’s ‘only child’ syndrome but to me there’s absolutely nothing worse than sitting down at a bar for a good glass of red wine and hot, crispy french fries and hearing an unfamiliar voice pipe in “So, where are you visiting from?”
UGHHHHHH.
It’s funny that in almost 2 decades of traveling on my own I have never really considered whether a place was good or bad, safe or dangerous, comfortable or tense, for a woman traveling on her own. There have been times and situations where I have considered maaayyyybbe this wasn’t one of my better ideas [Guatemala which wasn’t, Qatar which was] but I rarely attributed the discomfort to being female.
And finally, just 2 days into my shiny new age of 40, I find myself wandering the biggest metropolis in the world and I realize what the heck all these “female solo travel bloggers” are talking about (and making a lot more money on than I currently am). I have never felt this safe and secure in my solo femininity as I do right now in Tokyo.
Part of this has to be chalked up to the fact that travel is so f*cking easy these days. I probably started exploring at the tail end of what I snobbishly call “real travel” — paper maps, no Uber, zero money for cabs let alone private airport transfers, no translation apps, no smartphone cameras, no international phone services (that were affordable, anyway). I started my world tour with internet cafes, shady money exchanges, and restaurants without OpenTable reviews.
This was a glorious time of exploration when your travel-soul-mate Caitlin told you what time her plane landed so you could more-or-less guess when she’d be arriving at that overcrowded hostel in the center of Panama’s Old City (I believe it was 2:00 a.m.). It was an era of rolling your oversized suitcase over cobblestone alleys in Venice until you found a decent-looking hotel with an awake receptionist who could confirm an available room for two nights, for one person, in high season.
It was when travel was so good it hurt, when you got so lost you got scared, when you ran out of phone credit and couldn’t contact anyone, when you thought someone might be following you and you didn’t know how to dial emergency, when you brought along a mini Lonely Planet book with useful phrases in German so you could at least ask someone where the closest bathroom was while unexpectedly exploring Kreuzberg after downing a liter of Berliner beer.
But alas, those days are gone, and I can’t say I want to relive them. Not a smidge. I’m in my (permanent) phase of airport transfers, luxury hotels, international phone coverage for a flat monthly rate, and internet access at my fingertips.
Especially in a country like Japan.
In Japan, everything works. You just have to know how it works. This requires a combination of awareness, curiosity, mistakes, and copious research. Still, you can’t know it til you live it. I’ll be the first to tell you that once you think you’ve figured something out, a wrench will come hurtling your way.
Like walking. In Tokyo, there is a strict, unspoken rule that you walk on the left side of the street or sidewalk. In Kyoto, it’s a little more lax but generally still applies. In Osaka? Para nada. They’re walking all over the damn place and you’re suddenly unsure that you’re even in Japan anymore. But it still works.
In Tokyo and Kyoto, people are polite. Uncomfortably polite. They’re dainty. Make you feel like a bull-in-a-china-shop dainty. They’re elegant. Quiet. Soft. Beautiful. Respectful to a point that they rarely make eye contact, with you or with each other.
Osaka enters the scene just to throw you off. It’s a crapshoot of a city, the Japanese Chicago in landscape but San Francisco in personality. It’s here that 60-something men in business suits and blue hair might cut you in line at 7–11, where you will inevitably go for a morning rice ball since nothing seems to open before 11am. Here is where you find school girls donning bunny ears and frilly socks with platform loafers or young boys with Yakuza-style-but-actually-not-Yakuza-at-all sleeve tattoos.
Still, the eye contact is minimal at best.
Coming from Mexico, this is difficult for me. I’m used to smiling at everyone, saying good morning to street vendors, not worrying if I accidentally bump into an old lady. She’ll laugh, I’ll laugh, it’s all fine here. It’s a chaotic mess of human existence but everyone seems to be having fun. However, predominantly in Tokyo and Kyoto, my smiles were ignored and my greetings unheard. I’m not complaining. It simply is what it is.
Which is why I found it so good to be here alone. I could blend into the crowd, despite my blonde hair (well. Not as blonde as it was IN MY 30S!), green eyes, and attention-seeking ways. It felt liberating and un-vulnerable. Even in what felt like a not-so-mildly judgmental environment.
And then there’s the food. It’s not a secret that Japan is home to one of the best, if not the best, culinary landscapes in the world. From fast food to izakayas, the baseline of Japanese food is good. As in, good is the worst quality you’re going to get. (Like Mexico.) Moreover, Tokyo has more Michelen stars than any other city and Japanese cuisine as a whole is loved by millions. Which, from the outside, might seem really intimidating to a lonesome traveler who likes to eat but doesn’t necessarily like the idea of booking a table for one at Ginza Kojyu (2 Michelin Stars).
Fret not. This country is made for solo dining. To a point that, aside from an almost standard bar area, many restaurants come architecturally equipped with single diner coves and cubicle-style seating. It’s not uncommon to see men or women dining alone at any given time of day or night. It’s so accommodating to people like me that when no one bats an eye at my aloneness I fight back tears of relief.
Quite the contrary to past experiences. On one of my many work trips to Cuba I decided to stay and spend a weekend by myself in Havana. For years I had wanted to visit a certain jazz club in Vedado so I fought my budding social anxiety, put on a black dress, gold hoops, red lipstick and made my way to the basement venue.
I told the waitress I was one, and she looked mildly put off. It was still pretty early in the evening, around 8 p.m., so the club was empty. She sat me as far to the back as she could, and later seated an awkward French couple at my table. It had been so hard to get myself there that I felt offended by her reaction. On the bright side, it made solo dining easier because I always figured it couldn’t get much worse than that moment.
Which is why being in Japan was such a dream. No matter where I ate, the number in my party didn’t matter.
Japan is safe. According to the World Population Review it is the 10th safest country on the planet and has sat comfortably within the top 10 for the last 14 years. What a sensation to walk around, at night, down alleys, and pass a 7-year-old making her own way home from a friend’s house, no fear whatsoever. I’m a city girl so I’ve spent most of my adult life on high alert of what’s going on around me. I never realized how draining that was until I walked without abandon in Japan’s most touristy cities. At no point did I think to myself “oh, maaaayyyybe I shouldn’t be here”.
Which leads me to bigger contemplations about Japanese culture and suppressed emotions. A can’o’worms we can get into another time.
Japan is old. Obvio. But I don’t mean in terms of its civilization. WeForum claims that Japan has the oldest population by age. That in itself makes it less threatening — romantically, sexually, physically — a brownie point for a woman traveling alone.
You’ll be fine even if you don’t speak Japanese. Since Japan lives in the future, so much is computerized. The language barrier isn’t that big of an issue. For everything else, there’s Google Translate.
In hindsight, I would have taken basic language lessons to have a few phrases under my belt besides arigatou and I can’t believe I didn’t.
People are really helpful. They want to alleviate your suffering and confusion. If you need help, just ask!
Public transportation is perfect. A friend suggested I get a guide to teach me how to use the insanely developed subway system. It’s a fantastic tip. I was unable to do it, but with Google Maps, random blogs, and the website Klook, getting around by train was a breeze.
Speaking of Klook…I don’t know about you but after a 14+ hour flight to a new place I am 150% booking an airport transfer to my hotel. This is how I stumbled on Klook. It’s an app for anything. I booked my airport transfers and two Bullet train (Shinkansen) trips (at the last minute!) for great prices.
I’ve droned on and on about the joys of solo travel in previous posts so I’ll simply wrap this up by saying — if you’re looking for a fabulous place to explore on your own, Japan is it.
Next up — a suggested itinerary that I will post to my website.
BY THE WAY. I published another book.
