Tokyo, Atami & Yokohama Travelogue 2026 | The Train Left Without Me

Tokyo · Atami · Yokohama | May 2026

Wide view of the Yokohama waterfront, Landmark Tower, Cosmo Clock ferris wheel and harbour beneath a clear blue sky — Yokohama’s harbourfront, one of the three very different sides of Japan we visited on this trip.

The doors of the Saphir Odoriko closed while I was still on the platform, camera in hand, admiring the train I was supposed to be boarding. I had arrived in good time, taken several photographs of its deep-blue exterior and somehow misjudged the small but important detail of when it was actually leaving. Leah was already inside. I watched the doors shut, and a few moments later my wife and the luxury train departed together, leaving me to reconsider my approach to railway photography.

It was a fittingly unplanned moment in a trip that was never meant to be particularly ambitious. We had six days divided between Tokyo, Atami and Yokohama, two onsen hotels to try, a visit to the Harry Potter studio tour and very little interest in filling every available hour with attractions. We’d been to Japan often enough that another visit no longer needed to justify itself with a long list of must-see landmarks. Good food, time to look around, somewhere comfortable to stay and the chance to discover a few things along the way were quite enough.

Haneda After One in the Morning

Our flight landed at Haneda shortly after one in the morning. At that hour, the usual airport bustle had largely disappeared, and the priority was to clear immigration, collect our bags and get to the hotel without too much fuss. I made a detour to the toilet and found myself walking along a series of long, white, brightly lit corridors, with almost nobody around. The setting immediately reminded me of The Exit 8, the Japanese game in which a seemingly ordinary passageway becomes increasingly unsettling as you search for anomalies. I kept half expecting to see something out of place, although the only apparent anomaly was how far I had to walk to find the facilities.

Eventually, in a quieter corner of the airport, I spotted a full set of red samurai armour standing behind a rope barrier. The lacquered plates and elaborate horned kabuto were beautifully detailed, and the display seemed particularly imposing at that hour. I had been wandering through empty corridors feeling vaguely as though I was inside a video game, and now there was a samurai waiting at the other end. I wasn’t especially keen to engage in battle at one in the morning, but I did stop for photographs.

Red samurai armour with a black horned helmet and decorative lacing at Haneda Airport — A closer look at Haneda’s red samurai armour, without distracting from its intricate workmanship.

The walk through Haneda Airport Garden was more interesting than I expected. At the end of a passage was a large animated display wall showing Mount Fuji, deep-blue night scenes and reflections of city lights. It was the sort of environmental graphic that catches my attention even when I’m tired: large enough to change the atmosphere of a space rather than simply decorate it. By the time we’d passed through, I was awake enough to insist on a visit to Lawson before heading to the hotel. We bought onigiri and drinks, and I took a selfie outside with the Lawson sign reversed in the photograph. I left it that way; not every minor imperfection needs correcting.

Travellers entering the illuminated Haneda Airport Garden passage. — Walking towards Haneda Airport Garden, just beyond the terminal.

Our room was at Hotel Villa Fontaine Grand Haneda, conveniently connected to the airport complex. Given the hour, I appreciated not having to work out a late-night journey across Tokyo. We checked in, ate what we had bought and went to sleep, knowing the following day would involve moving hotels and a fairly substantial walk around a film studio.

Bread, Coffee and a Return to Hogwarts

The next morning we headed to Shinagawa Prince Hotel, but arrived too early to check in. We left our luggage with reception and went looking for brunch without venturing far at all. Boulangerie Shinagawa, inside the hotel complex, was enough: some bread, coffee and the welcome opportunity to sit down after a short night’s sleep. There are mornings when the simplest option is also the most sensible, especially when you know you’ll be on your feet for hours later.

Sandwiches and salad with iced coffee at Boulangerie Shinagawa — Sandwiches and coffee at Boulangerie Shinagawa before the afternoon at the Harry Potter studio.

Our 3 pm booking was for Warner Bros. Studio Tour Tokyo – The Making of Harry Potter at Toshimaen. We’d been to the London studio tour in 2014, so we were curious to see how this version compared. Tokyo felt more extensive to me, with plenty of sets, interactive sections and room to explore, although I’m conscious that London will have developed considerably in the twelve years since our visit. Memories of attractions have a way of freezing them at the point when you first saw them, which isn’t always a fair comparison.

Dragon head sculpture protruding from a stone wall at Warner Bros Studio Tour Tokyo — A dragon emerging from the stonework, one of the studio tour’s more theatrical set details.

The scarlet Hogwarts Express beneath the arched roof at Warner Bros. Studio Tour Tokyo. — The Hogwarts Express set, a convincing bit of cinematic railway engineering.

I enjoyed the familiar sets, but I was just as interested in the objects that make the fictional world believable. Film props, printed materials, signage, costumes and architectural details are the sort of things I tend to linger over. Having spent much of my working life in design, I can’t help looking at how an imagined place is given a visual identity and made to feel as though people actually live in it. There is an enormous amount of craft involved in that illusion, and being able to stand close to the finished work gives you a different appreciation of the films.

Hogwarts correspondence and wax-sealed stationery displayed against timber panelling — Even the fictional correspondence has to look convincing. Paper, typography and wax seals do their part.

An ornate silver diadem decorated with blue-green stones displayed inside a black case. — Ravenclaw’s diadem, a small but carefully realised piece of film production design.

Small cupboard-bedroom beneath the stairs, with a narrow bed, shelves and utility meters on the walls, recreated at the Harry Potter studio tour — Harry’s cupboard beneath the stairs, a modest set packed with everyday details that make the films’ world believable.

Elaborate sculptural set pieces and a large celestial sphere on display at the Tokyo Harry Potter studio tour — A corner of the studio tour devoted to sculptural props, theatrical surfaces and the sort of production detail I like to linger over.

Weathered shopfront and owl cages on a Harry Potter studio street set — Shopfronts and owl cages at the studio tour, with plenty of detail in the constructed streets.

There was also frozen butterbeer, which I remain quite happy to recommend without attempting a detailed tasting analysis. We bought souvenir wands this time, having passed them over in London. It was probably inevitable that I’d eventually give in, given my weakness for film props and collectables. By the end of the visit we had plenty of photographs, a couple of wands and tired feet, which seemed about right for an afternoon at Hogwarts.

A short moving look at the elaborate production sets on the Warner Bros. Studio Tour Tokyo.

Dinner was at Kichilian in Shinagawa Station, a quick, no-frills soba meal that was precisely what we wanted. I’ve always appreciated the way a straightforward station restaurant in Japan can provide a satisfying dinner without requiring an elaborate plan or reservation. We ate, headed back to the hotel and prepared for the next morning’s departure to Atami. At that point, I still expected the train journey to go exactly as booked.

Two bowls of Japanese soba with accompaniments on a restaurant tray in Shinagawa — A straightforward soba dinner at Shinagawa Station, just what we wanted after the studio tour.

The Luxury Train I Mostly Saw from the Platform

The Saphir Odoriko is a JR East limited express with a deep-blue exterior, broad windows and skylights, intended to make the journey towards the Izu Peninsula an experience in itself. The name comes from the French word for sapphire, and the train looks suitably elegant on the platform. I arrived early enough to photograph it properly, or so I thought, and spent rather too much time taking pictures before heading towards the doors.

The blue, white and silver front of the Saphir Odoriko limited express at Shinagawa Station — The Saphir Odoriko at Shinagawa, photographed moments before I managed to miss it.

That was when the doors closed and the train left. Leah had boarded successfully; I hadn’t. There was no dramatic mishap, no sudden emergency or complicated misunderstanding, just a photographer who had become distracted and lost track of the departure time. I returned to the ticket office, where the gentleman at the counter was helpful and explained that I could continue on a regular service using my existing ticket, although I’d be passing through seventeen stations on the way to Atami.

Shinagawa railway platform with passengers, signs, a train and its overhead platform roof — Back on the platform at Shinagawa, with a regular service still available after the Saphir had gone.

The journey took about an hour and forty minutes. Seventeen stops sounds fairly manageable if your point of reference is the Singapore MRT, but the distances between stations on this part of the Japanese railway network are considerably greater. I settled in for the ride and asked Leah to take photographs and videos from the Saphir, so at least I could see what the experience had been like. Since we were only travelling as far as Atami, the famous coastal views for which the service is known weren’t especially evident on her stretch of the journey. I found that information mildly comforting, though I would still have preferred the seat I’d booked.

We met up in Atami around lunchtime, apparently none the worse for having travelled separately. It had been an entirely avoidable detour, but not one that prevented us from doing anything important. In a holiday with a relatively loose schedule, losing a bit of time on a train is easier to absorb than it would be on a trip planned down to the minute.

Atami: Ramen, Hot Springs and a Two-Thousand-Year-Old Tree

Atami was a welcome change from Tokyo. Its reputation as a coastal onsen town was exactly why we’d included it in the trip: hot springs, good meals, older streets and a slower pace than the capital. We had ramen and gyoza around lunchtime, bought some food and drinks from the station for later, then took a taxi to our first hotel, Atami Onsen Hotel Yumeiroha.

Ramen and pan-fried gyoza with a small bowl of rice in Atami — Ramen and gyoza after arriving in Atami on two very different trains.

Yumeiroha has two communal baths, Aoyama-yu and Komatsu-yu, fed by the local hot springs. What I liked almost immediately was the hot-spring cooking area in the courtyard, where guests can steam eggs, shumai and other snacks using the heat from the spring. There is something satisfying about a hotel making use of the resource that brought visitors to the town in the first place. We’d come for the onsen, but I was already rather taken with the prospect of hot-spring snacks.

Steam rising through a circular hot spring cooking basin in the courtyard of Atami Onsen Hotel Yumeiroha. — The hot-spring steaming area at Yumeiroha, where guests can cook snacks in the natural geothermal heat.

Before spending the evening at the hotel, we walked to nearby Kinomiya Shrine, particularly known for its Great Camphor Tree. The enormous tree has a trunk circumference of more than 24 metres and is estimated to be over 2,000 years old. Standing beside something that has been growing for that long puts the surrounding buildings, shops and hotels into an interesting perspective. The area has changed countless times, while the tree has simply continued being a tree.

A row of bright red torii gates along a stone pathway at Kinomiya Shrine — A passage of red torii gates at Kinomiya Shrine, a short walk from our first hotel.

According to a local tradition, walking once around the trunk is said to add a year to your life, while another version suggests that making a wish during the circuit may help it come true. Leah and I walked around it. I’m not particularly inclined to test the arithmetic, but when an ancient tree is offering you an extra year at no apparent cost, it seems unnecessarily rude to decline.

The huge, ancient trunk of Kinomiya Shrine's camphor tree seen from a walkway at its base. — Kinomiya Shrine’s Great Camphor Tree. The surrounding walkway gives some sense of its enormous scale.

Quiet leafy woodland pathway and two red lantern-like markers among the trees at Kinomiya Shrine in Atami — Beyond the ancient camphor tree, the shrine grounds turn into a quieter, wooded passage.

We then went looking for Atami Purin, the pudding shop whose small glass bottles and red hippopotamus branding have become closely associated with the town. The nearest branch to the shrine, around Kinomiya Station, had already closed by the time we arrived. Rather than abandon the idea, we returned to Atami Station and tried the shop near Nakamise-dōri, where there was a queue. I joined it and bought several flavours to try. They were worth queuing for, and I liked the packaging almost as much as the puddings themselves, although the custard was ultimately what mattered.

Three bottled Japanese custard puddings with patterned lids and colourful Atami Purin labels. — Atami Purin in its signature glass bottles: good pudding and very persuasive packaging.

We returned to Yumeiroha and finally used the onsen. After the airport arrival, studio tour, missed train and day spent getting to know Atami, a long soak was a particularly agreeable way to finish. The evening was less about seeing another attraction than about enjoying the place we’d booked, which was very much the point of coming to Atami.

A Traditional Breakfast and Another Onsen Hotel

Yumeiroha served a Japanese-style breakfast the following morning, with rice, grilled fish and small accompanying dishes. It was the kind of meal you take your time over, rather than something grabbed from a convenience store while rushing towards a station. We checked out afterwards and took an Uber to Soki Atami, our second onsen hotel, where we’d booked a room with its own private bath.

Japanese breakfast tray with rice, grilled fish, soup and several small accompanying dishes. — The traditional Japanese breakfast served at Yumeiroha.

The name Soki reflects the ideas of simplicity and a vessel, and the hotel’s approach is deliberately restrained. Natural materials, calm interiors and the ability to enjoy your own onsen were central to why we’d chosen it. We arrived too early for check-in, left our luggage and decided to wander around town instead of trying to squeeze another major attraction into the day.

Quiet modern courtyard at Soki Atami with gravel, stone, glass and timber. — Soki Atami’s courtyard, where the architecture is deliberately more restrained than its surroundings.

Soki Atami's open reception and lounge area with timber counters, dark upholstered seats and greenery visible beyond glass — The reception and lounge at Soki, where the low lighting and natural materials set a much quieter tone.

Foot Baths, Hand Baths and a Seafood Lunch

We began near Atami Station at Ieyasu no Yu, a public foot bath named after Tokugawa Ieyasu, who is associated with the town’s hot springs. It is free to use, with spring water and a pebbled floor, and it draws a steady stream of people looking for a brief soak before continuing their journeys. I joined them, grateful for the chance to sit and give my feet a rest. Sometimes an attraction doesn’t need to be any more complicated than warm water and a place to sit for a few minutes.

An elevated view of the station forecourt and surrounding shopping buildings in Atami. — Around Atami Station, the starting point for our walk towards the public foot and hand baths.

Shoppers walking past food shops and hanging signs on Atami's covered arcade — The shopping arcades near Atami Station, where browsing shops was an attraction in its own right.

From there we wandered through Nakamise-dōri and Heiwa-dōri, the two shopping streets near the station. Along Heiwa-dōri we found Fukufuku no Yu, a small hand bath beside a Jizō statue. Rather than sitting with your feet in the water, you simply dip your hands into the warm spring flowing from the monument. It took very little time, cost nothing and made perfect sense in a town where geothermal water is woven into so many ordinary activities. I enjoyed the modest scale of it; there was no need to turn every hot spring into a major excursion.

A small hot spring hand bath beside a Jizō figure and red canopy in Atami. — The roadside hand bath beside a Jizō figure, a small reminder of how much of Atami revolves around its springs.

Japanese ice-cream shop with blue signage, red-striped awning and two customers at the door in Atami — A small ice-cream shop on Atami’s shopping streets, one of the many temptations between the station and lunch.

Customers and pedestrians outside Atami's Butter-An shop on a busy shopping street — The Butter-An shopfront in Atami, with a small queue forming outside.

Seafood displayed at the entrance of a shop along Atami's Nakamise shopping street — Seafood on display along Nakamise-dōri, one of Atami’s station-side shopping streets.

Display of packaged food and snacks at a shop counter on Atami's shopping streets — A food counter along the station-side shopping streets, with plenty to look at before deciding what to eat.

We chose Isomaru Atami Heiwadori for lunch without researching it very thoroughly. Its seafood menu looked promising, and we managed to get in without waiting, which was fortunate because a queue began forming outside once we were seated. The restaurant serves seafood from the wider Numazu area, and the sushi and other dishes were excellent. There is a small satisfaction in finding a good restaurant without spending half an hour comparing ratings beforehand, particularly when the queue outside suggests you’ve arrived at the right time.

A Japanese sushi restaurant entrance among the shops on an Atami shopping street. — Seafood restaurants are easy to find on the shopping streets near Atami Station.

After a few local sweets, we spent much of the afternoon at Lusca Atami, the shopping centre attached to JR Atami Station. Like many Japanese station complexes, it was full of food, regional specialities, souvenirs and the sort of well-presented products that make browsing enjoyable even when you don’t particularly need to buy anything. Japan has always been interesting to me from a packaging and retail design perspective, and these ordinary commercial spaces are sometimes as engaging as a museum shop.

Japanese boxed souvenirs featuring retro giant-robot characters on a colourful shop shelf — Among the souvenirs, a shelf of familiar giant robots. Even the packaging was worth a photograph.

One unexpected discovery at Lusca was a live studio for Ciao! 79.6 FM, Atami’s local community radio station. A Japanese lady was presenting her programme behind the glass while people passed with shopping bags and continued about their afternoon. I stayed to watch for a little while. Having grown up with radio as a regular part of daily life, I liked the sight of a local broadcaster going about her work in public, apparently entirely unfazed by the flow of shoppers outside. It was an ordinary moment, but one I still remember quite clearly.

The shops and buildings surrounding Atami Station seen from above. — The station-side shopping district around Lusca Atami, where we also came across a local radio booth.

Dinner at Soki: An Unpromising Title and an Excellent Meal

We returned to Soki for dinner, which turned out to be one of the best meals of the whole trip. The full-course menu was called Acrid Aromas of Spring, not a phrase I’d normally associate with food I was looking forward to eating. In context, it made sense: the dishes were built around the distinctive sharp, bitter and aromatic flavours of seasonal ingredients, particularly those associated with spring in Shizuoka.

The meal began with a shijimi clam soup with tomato and ginger, followed by bamboo shoots, kelp-cured sea bream sashimi and whitebait with nanohana in a creamy tofu sauce. It was the kind of progression that invites you to pay attention, with portions designed to make sense as part of the whole meal rather than as separate attempts to impress. The kitchen clearly had a good understanding of when to let an ingredient do most of the work.

Four small opening dishes on a wooden platter at Soki Atami restaurant. — The opening courses of our dinner at Soki, presented with considerable attention to detail.

Small elegant dinner course with sliced meat and seasonal vegetables at Soki Atami — Another carefully plated course at Soki, where the details mattered as much as the ingredients.

My favourite was probably the katsuo warayaki, skipjack tuna straw-smoked over an open flame and served with fresh onion purée. The smoky flavour was present without overwhelming the fish, and it was one of the more memorable dishes I ate in Japan that year. Japanese beef warayaki followed with a bouquet of spring Shizuoka vegetables and three different salts, before the meal moved on to hagama-cooked rice with firefly squid, shiro-miso soup and pickles. Strawberry and matcha yōkan made a restrained finish.

Large flames rising from a straw fire in the open kitchen at Soki Atami. — Straw-fire cooking at Soki, a moment that was as much spectacle as preparation.

Sliced Japanese beef arranged with fresh vegetables on a wide grey plate. — The Japanese beef course, one of the dinner’s more satisfying plates.

Earthenware rice pot being opened at the table during dinner at Soki Atami — The earthenware rice pot brought to our table as dinner moved towards its final courses.

What impressed me most was how well the courses worked together. I have had long tasting menus where you begin to suspect that several dishes are there mainly to make up the numbers. This wasn’t one of those meals. The cooking was thoughtful, the pacing was comfortable, and each course seemed to have a reason for being there. It genuinely earned the time we spent at the table, which is about the best thing I can say of a full-course dinner.

Back in our room, we made a video tour because the space deserved one. The interiors were understated, with a sense of privacy that contrasted with the bigger city hotels we’d used earlier, and the in-room onsen was exactly what we’d been looking forward to. There was no need to check the opening hours of a communal bath or plan around other guests. After an excellent dinner, being able to soak in hot spring water in our own room was a particularly agreeable arrangement.

Private round stone onsen bathtub partially screened with timber slats at Soki Atami. — The private in-room bath at Soki, which made lingering at the hotel rather easy.

Sunrise and the Five Flavours of Breakfast

We were up early the next morning to catch the sunrise before breakfast. Soki’s grounds look out towards the neighbouring mountain and include herbs, vegetables and citrus plants, some of which are used in the hotel’s kitchen. There’s also a tea house with views towards Atami Bay. It was a pleasant place to stand quietly for a while, without needing to head anywhere or accomplish anything before the day properly began.

Orange morning sun rising over the rooftops of Atami and its coastal bay — The sun coming up over Atami’s rooftops and coastline, seen from Soki before breakfast.

Atami's densely packed rooftops and nearby hills with the sea in the background. — Looking across Atami’s rooftops and towards the bay from the hotel.

Breakfast was described as Japanese Cuisine with Five Flavours, organised around a balance of spicy, bitter, sweet, sour and salty. We began with black rice amazake, followed by dishes including Kintaromasu trout sashimi from Oyama, grilled fish, Shizuoka beef simmered with mini tomatoes and daikon, ohitashi, pickles and dried plum. There was Gotemba Koshihikari rice and a miso soup with aonori and fu-nori seaweed from Hamanako. As with the previous evening’s dinner, the meal was carefully considered without feeling unnecessarily elaborate.

I liked that Soki’s food reflected the region rather than simply offering a generic luxury-hotel menu. Even breakfast had a sense of place, and that made the stay feel like more than a comfortable room and a hot spring. We went back for one last soak in our private onsen before checking out. I could quite happily have stayed longer, though we still had Yokohama to visit.

Soki Japanese breakfast with grilled fish, rice, soup and several colourful side dishes. — The substantial Japanese breakfast at Soki before we left Atami.

Yokohama Without a Checklist

The train journey from Atami to Yokohama took about an hour and fifteen minutes. We transferred to the Minatomirai Line, got off at Bashamichi and walked to APA Hotel & Resort Yokohama Bay Tower. After Soki, it was quite a change of scale: 2,311 rooms across 35 floors, with high-floor views towards Yokohama Bay, the Bay Bridge, Cosmo Clock and Landmark Tower. It was a large, busy hotel rather than an intimate retreat, but it was well placed for the sort of few days we’d planned.

The Yokohama harbour skyline with Landmark Tower and other waterfront buildings. — The towers and harbourfront of Yokohama, a change of scale after Atami.

Detail of Cosmo Clock ferris wheel against blue sky at Yokohama harbourfront — A closer view of the Cosmo Clock, one of Yokohama’s unmistakable waterfront landmarks.

And that plan, such as it was, involved walking, browsing and not feeling especially guilty about doing very little else. We visited Takashimaya, Sogo, Yodobashi Camera and the Sky Building, with a Lawson stop here and there whenever we felt like it. There were no complicated connections to work out or tickets timed to the minute, and I rather enjoyed that. Having visited Yokohama before, we felt no pressure to revisit every landmark just to say we’d been.

Metal sculpture with a circular sunburst form outside modern buildings near Sogo Yokohama — A curious sunburst sculpture near Sogo Yokohama, noticed while wandering between shops.

Yokohama is easy to like when you’re not trying to accomplish too much. It’s a substantial city, but the areas we explored offered a comfortable mix of shopping, places to eat and streets worth wandering. I can happily spend time in a department store or an electronics shop without considering the afternoon wasted. With my background in graphic design and interest in cameras, gadgets and packaging, I usually find more than enough to look at, even when I leave without buying very much.

Retail buildings and streets in central Yokohama, with modern tower blocks beyond. — Yokohama at street level, with shops and streets providing most of our itinerary.

Grilled eel over rice on a lacquered tray with a bowl of soup and small side dishes — Grilled eel and rice in Yokohama, one of the meals that deserved a photograph.

Fried SPAM bites served in a SPAM tin with dipping sauce and iced drinks at a Yokohama café — Something less traditional in Yokohama: fried SPAM bites served in the tin, with iced drinks.

The quieter pace was a good counterpoint to the first half of the trip. Tokyo had been about the studio tour and getting around a city we’d returned to many times. Atami had been about the onsen hotels, small discoveries and particularly good meals. Yokohama was simply somewhere comfortable to spend time together, browse around and eat when we felt hungry. It wasn’t a case of having nothing to do; it was being quite content not to schedule everything.

Hotplate rice topped with fried egg, vegetables and corn, served with side dishes and iced tea — Another casual Yokohama meal: hotplate rice with an egg, small sides and a cold drink.

Back to Haneda, with Both of Us on the Bus

For the journey home, the Keikyu Bus from near Bashamichi was the obvious choice. The stop was across from the hotel, and the service went directly to Haneda Terminal 3, which meant we could avoid transferring between trains with our luggage. After my performance with the Saphir Odoriko, a straightforward airport transfer was especially appealing.

Terminal 3 felt much more active in daylight than it had during our arrival after one in the morning. Haneda Airport Garden, which opened in 2023, has brought more shops and restaurants to the area, while the Edo-themed shopping and dining spaces in the terminal provide somewhere to wander before departure. We had time to look around without being in a hurry, which seemed a suitable way to end a holiday that had deliberately avoided unnecessary rushing.

Wide interior of Haneda Airport Terminal 3 with departures and check-in counters. — Our last stop in Japan: the departure hall at Haneda Terminal 3.

We’d arrived six days earlier through quiet corridors that reminded me of a video game, stopped to photograph samurai armour and bought onigiri at Lawson. In between, we’d revisited the making of Harry Potter, acquired souvenir wands, missed a luxury train, walked around a 2,000-year-old tree, queued for pudding and tried several kinds of hot-spring bathing. We’d also eaten particularly well, from uncomplicated soba in Shinagawa to a full-course dinner at Soki that justified every course.

I keep returning to Japan because it’s somewhere we can move around independently, and where even fairly ordinary days tend to produce something worth remembering. The trains generally work, the food is good and there are always shops, neighbourhoods and small details that reward a closer look. We no longer feel the need to spend an entire holiday racing from one major attraction to another. A day of walking around Yokohama or a few hours in Atami’s shopping streets can be just as enjoyable as a carefully booked attraction.

The trip was not entirely free of mishaps, though the biggest one was my own doing. I still have photographs of the Saphir Odoriko looking splendid on the platform, even if my experience of travelling aboard it remains second-hand. Next time I photograph a train I’m actually supposed to catch, I’ll try to remember that boarding it is part of the arrangement.

There will probably be another Japan trip, and almost certainly more photographs than anyone reasonably needs. If past experience is anything to go by, the travel posts will appear long after the luggage has been unpacked. That seems to have become part of the routine as well.

Mixtape for the Apocalypse

The Train Left Without Me: Six Days in Tokyo, Atami and Yokohama

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