The Stories That Inspired My Travels in Japan
Every Explorer has a destination that calls them back time and time again.
For our CEO Emilie Couton, that place is Japan. In this personal reflection, she shares the books, places, meals and unforgettable moments that continue to inspire her travels—and perhaps your next adventure too.
The Stories That Inspired My Travels in Japan
Like often with my travels, I first discovered Japan through books.
Long before I walked the streets of Tokyo, soaked in an onsen, or got lost in Onomichi looking for cats, I was pulled by the world of Haruki Murakami. I have read everything he has published that has been translated into English: novels, short stories, non-fiction. I have even listened to playlists of jazz tunes referenced in his books. My favourite remains A Wild Sheep Chase, a quest for meaning. All his books are odd places worth to inhabit for a few days. I don’t speak Japanese, hence some things are inevitably lost in translation. But that has never diminished the connection. If anything, it has made me curious.
My first visits came through work. Like many business travellers, I saw Japan through hotel windows and meeting rooms. Tokyo – Ginza, Yokosuka, Sapporo, Osaka. But every trip became an excuse to stay a little longer and wander a little further. I visited Kyoto before the crowds flocked in, Himeji castle and the powder snow of Niseko.
People often talk about the quality of Japanese food. That is certainly true, but what impresses me most, beyond its excellence, is its consistency. I recently enjoyed an epic progressive dinner at the Swissotel Nankai Osaka—a hotel I highly recommend to discover Osaka, as located in the heart of Namba. The evening took me through five restaurants, from the ground floor to the 36th. At every stop, I encountered the same attention to detail, the same respect for ingredients, and the same dedication to craftsmanship.”
Some of my most memorable meals happened when we simply walked into a restaurant without knowing what awaited us. The language barrier often meant we could not order ourselves. We had to surrender control and trust the chef.
One meal stands out in particular: a tiny restaurant hidden down a narrow lane near the Mercure Kyoto Station, a place I have never managed to find again. The food was magical. Equally unforgettable were the kaiseki dinners in remote ryokans, where many of the ingredients had been picked from the garden only hours before.
The sophistication of Japanese hospitality is second to none. I remember visiting a cocktail bar in Niseko where the bartender explained that the ice was frozen at a lower temperature so it would melt more slowly in the glass. At the end of the evening, after learning that we lived in Singapore and were both French, she handed us two perfectly folded origami swans—one made from a Singaporean flag, the other from a French flag. It was a small gesture, yet one I still remember years later.
The more we travelled, the further we ventured. Japan’s rail network makes exploration a breeze. It runs like clockwork, is exceptionally comfortable, and is dense enough to make almost anywhere accessible.
Last year we spent a week hiking sections of the Nakasendo. We moved through villages, former posts from the Edo period, through forests and mountain passes. Every evening ended the same way: tired legs soaking in an onsen, dinner served in a tatami room, clad in a yukata, careful to remember that the left side goes over the right.
Tsumago on the Nakasendo trail
One of the highlights was Kamikōchi and the extraordinary view of Mount Hotaka. The Japanese outdoors deserve far more attention than they receive internationally. The mountains, forests and coastline are spectacular.
More recently, we cycled the Shimanami Kaido across the Seto Inland Sea. Crossing gigantic bridges suspended above the water as we travelled from island to island was exhilarating. Each island offered local delicacies and a perspective on the local culture. In Ikuchi Island, I was fascinated by stories of the Murakami Kaizoku, once maritime lords of the Seto Inland Sea, whose legacy lives on through historical sites on the island.
While cruising the coast, you can’t fail to notice the strong tidal current forming whirlpools at times, requiring skills and expertise to navigate.
Once on Shikoku island in Matsuyama, we loved walking around Dogo Onsen, the onsen resort area, with quiet temples and historic bath houses.
We then continued towards the contemporary art islands. At the Teshima Art Museum, a concrete shell designed by Rei Naito and Ryue Nishizawa creates a contemplative space where art, architecture and nature become one. Rain fell gently through the oval opening in the roof, while tiny droplets emerged from the concrete floor as if they had a life of their own, quietly drawing our attention back to the present moment. It was utterly hypnotic.
Our journey continued to Naoshima, where the Chichu Art Museum left one of the deepest impressions. Designed by Tadao Ando and built underground to preserve the landscape, the museum is a masterpiece of light and space. Its seamless walls and carefully orchestrated natural illumination create an atmosphere of profound stillness. The room dedicated to Monet’s Water Lilies was every bit as moving as the display at the Orangerie in Paris. Standing before those monumental canvases, I was struck by their scale and quiet power.
Before visiting Onomichi, I had already explored it through the book Four Seasons in Japan by Nick Bradley. Walking through the steep streets, I felt as if I already knew the city. The azaleas were in bloom around Senkōji Park. Bees moved through the vines. Temple paths climbed the hillsides. Massive camphor trees stood wrapped in sacred ropes in temples’ enclosures.
For someone who grew up with four seasons and now lives in Singapore, Japan reconnects me with the rhythm of nature. Each season has a quality of its own.
We have never managed to catch the cherry blossoms, but we experienced Kyoto at the height of the koyo season, when the city glowed in shades of crimson and gold. It captures the essence of ichi-go ichi-e: the idea that every season, every encounter and every ordinary moment is unique, and will never return in quite the same way.
My relationship with Japanese literature did not end with Murakami. In recent years, I have immersed myself in what is often called the “cozy Japanese” genre, reading one novel after another. It is not about the plot but the atmosphere: quiet, comforting, touched with melancholy and nostalgia.
These stories unfold around the ordinary—a bookshop, a café, a shared meal, a cat, a chance encounter. Little seems to happen, yet everything important does. Beneath their simplicity lies a quiet exploration of loneliness, belonging, grief and human connection.
Many also reflect on the tension between individuality and the pressure to conform, but never with anger. Instead, they respond with compassion and acceptance—a warm hand rather than a raised voice. When I travel in Japan, I often feel as if I am stepping into one of these novels.
This is Japan to me: a country where details matter, craftsmanship is revered, and even the most ordinary moments are treated with care. It is embodied in omotenashi, a quiet form of hospitality where every detail has been thoughtfully considered long before you arrive.
There is still so much left to explore. Next on my to-do list: Hike Mount Aso on Kyushu island, visit the Museum of Contemporary Art in Kanazawa, and dive around Miyakojima.
That’s without counting the books that will undoubtedly take me somewhere new.
Emilie’s Insider Tips for Exploring Japan
Go beyond the major cities
Japan’s rail network makes it incredibly easy to discover regional destinations, where you’ll often find some of the country’s most memorable experiences.
Trust the Chef
Some of my favourite meals have come from letting the chef choose. The language barrier can become part of the adventure.
Stay at a Ryokan at least once
After a day of exploring, there’s nothing quite like soaking in an onsen before enjoying a traditional kaiseki dinner.
Leave space for the unexpected
Some of my favourite memories weren’t planned at all—they happened when I simply wandered a little further.