Japan Does Not Shout

In June 2026, we took our family through Osaka, Kyoto, Nara, and Tokyo. The visual diary is here. These are the notes behind the pictures.

I was not sure what to expect.

Dragon Ball, Kenshin, Sony, Toyota, toilet seats, ramen, a huge metropolis. Plus countless Studio Ghibli movies.

Were we going to fail with our inability to understand or read Japanese? Would we stumble into the negative bias on foreigners? Would we be able to understand Japanese essence, or just go through clichés, akin to walking through a theme park?

Our trip failed early, with Air Canada canceling our YUL → YVR → KIX flight and offering us Lufthansa instead, going the other direction, eating away twelve precious hours. We complied, already dreading arriving at 7am in Kansai with thirteen hours of jet lag to burn off.

Our first steps stumbled into immigration forms not far from what you fill out entering Nicaragua. Our plan covered four different hotels, which didn’t fit the form. Japanese like being exact. I had printed our plans on three sheets: exact timeline, tips, contingencies. I hadn’t planned for this. Outside customs, we couldn’t find the Yamato luggage delivery service either. This was not going well.

Things got better at Osaka station and Daimaru mall. A life-sized Mario. Long lines of Pokémon card buyers. A One Piece store. Pins, toys, gadgets. The kids loved it. I found it excessive. That tension, admiration and overload simultaneously, turned out to be the pattern for the whole trip.

The Machine

What I noticed most, consistently, was the gestures. A security guard picking up a napkin we had dropped and walking it over to us. No bins anywhere, and yet the streets were spotless. Customer service at a level I haven’t encountered anywhere else. Writings everywhere, with small icons and arrows for every edge case, every exception, every detail. People generally quiet, especially on the subway.

It was like a giant machine with millions of well-oiled cogs, working together seamlessly, without any hint of dust. In North America, you would have someone shouting or taking all the space for themselves. Here, everything and everyone falls together.

Universal Studios Japan made this concrete. Last year we went through Disneyland Paris: amazing rides, great immersion. But USJ took it to another level in terms of cleanliness, organization, and attention to detail. You would think you woke up in a Mario & Luigi world, or that you had instantly arrived in Harry Potter’s. From costumes to props to music to smells, the queues, the food, all of it contributed. Were the rides more thrilling? Not significantly. But the extra attention to detail is real, and Disneyland Paris doesn’t have it.

These observations carried through cuisine, historic landmarks, transit, hospitality, and even convenience stores. Every single one of them was an experience. It certainly inspires me for future work.

Where Can Kids Cry?

Was it all positive? Unfortunately not.

In Kyoto, the kids liked to wake up early, then play and jump on beds, as kids do. A neighbor started violently banging the wall. Hotel staff came to ask us to control the children, they said a customer complained. Later that day, after visiting Kyoto landmarks, we found a note from the neighbor saying they couldn’t sleep and please stop making noise.

I thought this was an aggressive move. Kids are kids. You cannot ask them to stop playing for the duration of a trip.

In Japan, I did not see open public parks for children. I did not see open nature or forests with kids running around in them. I did not see kids playing outside at all.

If kids can’t play outside, and kids can’t play in their room, where can they play? Where can they cry? Should they transform from newborn to salaryman right away, with a stern face and no noise? I would be stressed as a new parent in Japan. Or maybe the solution is to move to the countryside. Maybe that is where the machine breathes.

The visual diary — 30 cards, one per place — is at studiozenkai.com/kansai

PS: The Japanese Disembarkation Card for Foreigners only requires the intended primary address, usually the very first hotel night. The form design is tight and misleadingly implies one needs to inventory your whole itinerary.