Today is June 22, 2026. Last day of my Japan trip.

This is my fourth trip to Tokyo, and somehow the city keeps growing on me.

Some cities you figure out after one trip. Tokyo has never been that way for me. Every time I come back, it feels like I’m seeing it for the first time again.

It was 2020 when I visited Japan for the first time. Feb ‘20, just before COVID changed the world. It was an official visit and that trip was all about learning: how to navigate the city, deal with the language barrier, and communicate with Japanese clients.

I returned in Jan 2024 on a personal trip through Hong Kong, Osaka and Tokyo. Jan is winters, most of the time was spent indoors. Went to Disneyland, TeamLabs. I was simply a tourist. Loved it again.

Life, or rather my kids (Riya and Ryan), brought me back to Tokyo later that same year in June 2024 (after hearing my stories of how much I’ve loved Japan). Now my role had changed: from sightseer to guide for them.

I was extremely curious then. Would they like the city I’ve grown to love so much?

I need not have worried.

They loved everything I loved: the ease of travel, the hustle and bustle of the metro, the city’s stylish culture, awesome food at Lawson. On that trip, Riya even spent a day exploring Tokyo by herself.

They enjoyed it so much that I made a promise to my daughter, Riya: finish Class 12, do well in your entrance exams, and I’ll bring you back to Japan.

She kept her promise. She worked hard, did well in her exams, and earned her place.

So did I, kept my promise and I planned this trip as soon as her exams were over.

Which is how we three found ourselves back in Tokyo again.

Trip number four.

The details of this trip deserve a separate diary entry, but today I’m reflecting on what felt different this time.

By the fourth visit, the logistics fade into the background.

That’s when you start noticing things.

A few observations of mine from this trip:

The cleanliness is extraordinary

The city is clean. Like really, really clean.

Not just the city center, which is remarkable enough given how densely populated it is, but even the suburbs and quieter neighborhoods.

Finding litter is a rarity. So much so that when Riya and I spotted two discarded beer bottles, we were genuinely shocked!

What makes it remarkable is that you don’t see an army of municipal workers constantly cleaning. It seems to come largely from people behavior: people clean up after themselves.

This becomes even more impressive when you realize how much people enjoy eating outdoors. Yet you rarely see plastic wrappers, bottles, or half-eaten food lying around.

Just… nothing.

Eating alone is completely normal

Another thing that stood out was how comfortable people are eating by themselves.

Working hours in Tokyo can be long. It’s common for office workers to leave work around dinner time, grab a quick meal, and then head home. It makes perfect sense: you don’t necessarily want to cook after a long day.

As a result, there are thousands of small restaurants that seat only 15–20 people. You order, eat, and move on.

I often saw office workers quietly enjoying meals alone.

In many cities, a solo diner is an uncommon sight. Which is a pity, really. I love eating alone when I am travelling. In Tokyo, it’s completely normal.

Crowded, but not noisy

Tokyo can be incredibly crowded, yet it rarely feels noisy.

People don’t honk. Public spaces are generally quiet. And once you step away from the major commercial districts, mornings and evenings can feel surprisingly calm and serene. I had the most amazing morning and evening walks this time.

For a city of nearly 40 million people, that’s quite an achievement.

Quality matters

The convenience store meal should not be this good. That’s the thought I kept coming back to. The food was good enough that Riya chose to have every dinner from there.

At a Lawson or 7-Eleven, you’re not grabbing something to get through until the next real meal. The onigiri is fresh, the packaging is precise, even telling you exactly how long to microwave it, and someone clearly thought about it. That same standard shows up in a hole-in-the-wall ramen shop, and then again at a proper sit-down dinner.

It’s not that Japan necessarily has more talented chefs or better ingredients. It’s that a minimum standard has been set, and almost nothing falls below it. Being average just doesn’t seem to be an option.

Automation is part of everyday life

Walk into a ramen shop and nobody comes to take your order. There’s a ticket vending machine at the entrance. You select your meal, pay, hand a printed slip to the kitchen. Done.

The metro is a better example. The entry gates stay open by default. You tap your card as you walk through - barely pausing. Trivial detail, until you multiply it across millions of daily commuters. No queues at closed gates, no fumbling, no friction. Just people moving.

We took a lot of metro rides this trip, and Ryan loved this part. Every time, he’d take out his Suica card, tap, and walk straight in. In a sea of people, my 12-year-old navigated the Tokyo metro like it was second nature.

Most of the technology exists elsewhere. What’s different is that someone clearly asked: where does the friction actually live? And then removed it, quietly, without announcing it.

That question seems to run through the whole city. I noticed it much better this time.

Perhaps that’s why Tokyo continues to grow on me.

The first time, I was busy figuring things out. The second time, I was a tourist.

The third time, I was a guide for my children.

This time, I was simply an observer.

And maybe that’s when a city starts to reveal its layers: not on your first visit, when everything is new, but when you already know your way around and finally have the time to notice the small things.

My love affair with Japan continues to unfold. Can’t wait for the next visit to observe even more closely.