Dispatch from Japan
Zen, sushi, shrines, and the art of travel
Greetings from Japan, a land of respect, kindness, and timeless traditions. But mostly, kindness.
My dad recently recounted one example: We were on Day 10 in Japan, and coffee shops are everywhere, from “upscale” with nice furniture to some with industrial-type furniture and a bohemian vibe. They all offer delicious coffee. But one thing that consistently stands out is politeness and service.
We stopped at one that was more of a counter than a shop, up against a wall in an area where an upscale mall led to the incomparable train system. Clean and sleek, it had a small customer area. Against the wall was a 6’ long, 10” wide shelf with stools, and opposite was another 6’ long x 10” wide shelf with stools, creating a tight U-shaped enclave but open on one side. The counters and decor were beautiful, Italian style. My dad ordered a cappuccino and retreated to a stool to slowly enjoy it.
After he finished, he reached into his backpack and grabbed a pill to take some of the edge off his legs. We had done quite a bit of walking. He peeked into his cup and saw that he had barely a drop of coffee left, enough maybe to assist the pill a bit. When he looked up, there stood the server, gently putting a glass of water down on the shelf in front of him and then quietly turning away, back to the register, not even expecting a thank you. She must have noticed he had grabbed a pill.
My dad, Ally, and I arrived with great excitement for a culture we’ve come to appreciate and admire. We knew the Japanese temples would be beautiful and the food incredible. But we didn’t realize how much of the trip would be filled with small, quiet moments of kindness. Shortly after we landed, airport employees bowed and welcomed us to the country. One evening, my dad inadvertently left his reading glasses at a ramen shop without realizing it. A few minutes later, the waitress came running down the street, almost out of breath, waving the glasses in her hand. She bowed as she handed them back, smiling and wishing us well before hurrying back inside the restaurant to serve customers.
At several omakase restaurants, we were politely turned away because they were full. But instead of a simple "no," the hosts walked to the entrance to lock eyes with us, bow, and apologize profusely that they already had customers for the night, almost as if they felt they had personally let us down.
Almost everywhere we went, there was an unspoken trust. Doors were left wide open, bicycles sat unattended, and people apologized before even asking us a question. At the metro station, commuters lined up neatly, waiting their turn. There was no rushing, no shoving, only an effortless courtesy that felt natural and expected. The expectation on all trains is that you keep quiet so as not to distract other travelers.
Objects were also treated with respect. In cafés and restaurants, small platforms or baskets were provided for your backpacks, handbags, etc., so those items wouldn’t have to sit on the ground. Nothing felt careless. There was a quiet consideration for people and things, and there was hardly any trash anywhere, even in the busier parts of Tokyo, the world’s most populous city.
And at almost every interaction, no matter how small, people said thank you. Over and over again.
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Here are a few more examples that align with that deep sense of courtesy and consideration.
A gifting culture
Even small gestures are often accompanied by a gift. At our hotel, the staff handed us neatly wrapped sweets as a welcome. In some shops, if we bought something, the cashier would carefully wrap the item—even a simple snack—as if it were a present.
One coffee shop owner gifted us a traditional sake holder. Several locals gifted us small items and food, too.
At a small Japanese post office, a kind worker went out of his way to help us. He found the perfect box for our package/gifts to ship to the U.S., then surprised us by providing free wrapping paper and a full roll of tape. A small but thoughtful gesture that made the experience so smooth…just another example of Japan’s incredible hospitality.
The art of saying goodbye
In restaurants and small shops, staff don’t just say goodbye. Some hosts walk you to the door and bow as you leave. Sometimes, they’ll even stand outside, watching until you're out of sight. It’s a quiet way of extending gratitude.
Early in the trip, my dad had dinner with about six Japanese people he had met and worked with in the U.S. They gave him a tour of their HQ building and then took him to dinner. After dinner, they all got in two taxis to say goodbye at his hotel instead of in front of the restaurant. Then, some went for another drink, and a couple went home. Exemplary hospitality is another way to sum this up.
An incredible rail system
Japan’s train system, born in October 1964, is incredible. Credit a mix of strong cultural emphasis on being on time, super-efficient operations, advanced tech like real-time tracking, dedicated tracks (especially for the Shinkansen, known in English as the bullet train), rigorous maintenance, highly trained staff, and a fast incident response system.
Shinkansen trains vary from about 150-200mph and have a tilting mechanism that allows them to lean into curves at high speed, minimizing vibration and ensuring a smooth, quiet ride. They also have automatic air brakes for earthquakes.
Some trains carry over 1,300 passengers thanks to their wide bodies and comfortable seats. The Shinkansen cleaves through rice paddies and small towns like a silver needle through silk — its electric whine building to a crescendo before dissolving into the distance. Inside, passengers feel only the gentlest sway as Japan's countryside unspools past their window. Plus, conductors even apologize for rare, minor delays of 1 minute.
The softness of sound
Despite the density of cities like Tokyo, everything feels quiet. People lower their voices on trains and in public places. Even when a train pulls into a station, the announcements are calm and melodic, never jarring. Because many residents use trains so often, there are fewer cars, making the cities ideal for a quiet stroll without the honking and hustle-bustle that tends to prevail in U.S. cities. Arrivals and departures are "announced" with a piped-in melody.
Attention to cleanliness
There are almost no public trash cans, yet the streets are spotless. People take their trash home rather than leaving it behind. I’ve even seen videos of baseball fans at a stadium cleaning up their section after the game—something unheard of elsewhere.
Schools teach kids to clean their classrooms, and businesses take pride in maintaining storefronts. Even the convenience stores are spotless. It’s a system built on mindfulness rather than enforcement.
My friend Neda called Japan the most civilized country in the world, and she’s right. The quiet, the cleanliness—it’s all about respecting one another. There’s no garbage left anywhere. I especially love how many places ask you to remove your shoes. It’s not just about cleanliness, it’s about honoring the space, the floor, and the people who share it.
The bowing culture
Bowing isn’t just for formal greetings. It happens everywhere. The train conductor bows when entering and leaving the car. Workers bow to customers, and customers sometimes bow back. It’s an ingrained way of showing respect, no matter the situation.
One afternoon in the busy Kyoto subway, commuters and tourists moved through the turnstiles. Amid the rush, station workers stood at their posts, bowing slightly and offering an “Arigato gozaimasu” (thank you very much) to each person who passed. Each person. Most travelers never looked up, but the gratitude never ceased…a quiet, unwavering gesture of respect.
The thoughtfulness in everyday objects
At restrooms, there are often small shelves next to the sink for placing a phone or wallet so they don’t get wet. In department stores, umbrellas left at the entrance are neatly arranged for easy retrieval rather than tossed into a pile. There are dozens of other similar examples.
Crying at breakfast
A small breakfast/coffee bar was tucked away on a quiet street in Osaka, the kind of place you might miss if you weren’t looking for it. Inside, the air was smelled of freshly ground coffee. Soft jazz hummed from behind the counter, where a single older man—slow-moving but deliberate—worked the coffee instruments with the care of a craftsman. Even the menu was handcrafted. There was only one, and he had written it himself. He had room for maybe 10 customers.
Three men from Atlanta sat near us at the wooden bar. One of them, named Ethan, cupped a ceramic mug between his hands, steam curling toward his face. A plate with a perfect egg dish and a slice of toast sat untouched in front of him.
“Do you ever just cry at breakfast?” he said, half to himself, half to us.
We looked at Ethan not with surprise, not with concern, just with understanding. We practically cried, too, at the beauty of this cafe, the kindness of the Japanese people, and the meticulous work this shop owner demonstrated in this little coffee-scented refuge.
All about trust
Train stations usually have open entrances without barriers stopping someone from walking through without paying. I assume this is because the system assumes you will do the right thing rather than evade the fare. On buses, you enter through the rear door and pay as you exit through the front door. Nobody tries to go out the back to avoid paying, even though it would be easy.
When we took a taxi, the driver often opened our doors at the destination — even before we paid, trusting that we would still pay him. In most cab rides I’d previously experienced, the doors are locked until the passenger pays.
The trust runs deep in retail, too. Retail stores — even 7/11 — usually have multiple exits, yet theft is rare. It’s a testament to a culture built on respect and social responsibility.
Food and drink made with care
Japan might be home to the best cuisine in the world. Tokyo leads with the most Michelin-starred restaurants anywhere, Kyoto ranks third, and Osaka follows at fourth. But beyond the stars, it’s the care that makes each meal special. Generations of chefs perfecting their craft, sourcing the best ingredients, welcoming you to the counter, and bowing as you leave—sometimes even walking you out to the street while thanking you profusely. It’s much more than a meal. It’s a tradition, a story, and an art form.
As for the tea?
...From the precise hand-rolling of leaves to the delicate whisking of matcha, seemingly every step is infused with deep care and centuries of tradition. Watching a tea master at work is like witnessing poetry in motion. The beauty of the craft, especially done right in front of you, is enough to bring you to tears.
Tea in Japan is sacred, not just for its taste but for the mindfulness it cultivates. The tea ceremony is a meditation on presence, gratitude, and harmony with nature. Each sip is an invitation to slow down, savor, and appreciate each moment's fleeting beauty. We could sit at the tea houses all day long sipping matcha and sencha -- they are so Zen and peaceful.
Keep calm & keep traveling,
Matthew