But would our young kids love the country and its food as much as we do?
Andrea Fazzari
But what will happen to Japan?
Trivial as it might seem when stacked against the responsibilities of procreation,Japanwas no casual consideration.
From left: Aman Kyoto’s traditional breakfast; a young guest enjoying the pool at the Trunk (Hotel) Yoyogi Park, in Tokyo.Credit:Andrea Fazzari
Wed been carrying on a torrid threesome with the country for almost as long as wed been together.
So, we resolved to shelve Japan until our children were at least old enough to spellomakase.
We were anxious: not just to return to Japan, but to test our mettle as a family.
From left: Lunch aboard a sightseeing train from Nara to Kyoto; schoolchildren with one of the wild deer that live in Nara Park.Andrea Fazzari
Could we still wander the world for weeks, even months at a time and would we want to?
And how would these little humans affect our relationship with the places most sacred to us?
Laura and I would learn to love Japan in a new way.
From left: Waiting for the shinkansen at Tokyo Station; ekiben lunches at Tokyo Station.Andrea Fazzari
What could possibly go wrong?
Every tiny detail registers at an elevated pitch.
Take advantage: food tastes better; beer slides down easier; neon shines brighter.
From left: Dressing up at Kyoto’s Samurai Ninja Museum; armor at the museum.Andrea Fazzari
I had hoped for a moment like this.
For everything I adore about Japan, Im often aware of the distance between me and its people.
Part of this comes down to social norms the Japanese value privacy, humility, and discretion.
From left: The entrance to Universal Studios, in Osaka; a Sesame Street–themed ride at Universal Studios Japan.Andrea Fazzari
The kids, I reasoned, would help tear down the walls that naturally exist between locals and foreigners.
After 20 years earning a living as a food writer, there is nothing I wont eat.
But it wasnt always this way.
The view from Kyoto’s Tempura Matsu restaurant.Andrea Fazzari
Truth is, if I had gone to Japan when I was four, I probably would have starved.
Nuggets, fries, mac and cheese: beige was the only color I allowed to enter my body.
My kids would be different, I reasoned.
From left: Snack shopping at a Tokyo 7-Eleven; testing the sleeping arrangments at Tokyo’s Trunk (Hotel) Yoyogi Park.Andrea Fazzari
And yet, theyve somehow remained impressively impervious to the wonders of local ingredients and seasonal cooking.
Four years in, I can only say that eating remains a work in progress.
Instead, we lean in to the foods we know will land well.
From left: Afternoon light in a guest room at Aman Kyoto; chef Toshio Matsuno in his Tokyo restaurant, Tempura Matsu.Andrea Fazzari
To deliver us to deliciousness, we enlist the help of Shinji Nohara, a.k.a.
When we step back into the night, Diego is buzzing from thebonjiri.
We crushed that yakitori!
From left: Tonkatsu for two at Butagumi, in the Roppongi district of Tokyo; calling guests to a table at Butagumi.Andrea Fazzari
But three blocks into the stroll through Daikanyama, Diego looks up and asks: Where is the playground?
Just as I feel the architecture inside me begin to buckle, we are saved by a pool.
Slowly, the gathering clouds begin to part.
From left: Fufu Nara’s bamboo garden; Fufu Nara hotel’s traditional Japanese breakfast.Andrea Fazzari
Sippng our welcome cocktails, we level with each other.
I think we need to rethink our strategy, Laura says.
We settle on a new approach: Two things per day.
From left: A display of kokeshi dolls at the W Osaka; a toy-store display in Tokyo’s Shibuya district.Andrea Fazzari
Day 4
The Bullet Train
When do your earliest memories start?
When do the images in your mind develop from Polaroids into a film reel?
Summer vacation in Hawaii.
From left: Traditional parasols at Aman Kyoto; origami lessons at Aman Kyoto.Andrea Fazzari
Moments that stick because travel pushes all of us, even kids, into a heightened state of being.
Displacement breaks through the mushy memories of quotidian life.
This is a moment I have been anticipating for years.
From left: Décor in the reception area of the W Osaka; the entrance to the W Osaka.Andrea Fazzari
The first time I witnessed theshinkansens smooth, elongated nose pulling into a station, my knees buckled.
God, I love this country.
What takes 10 words in English takes but one in Japanese:komorebi.
A guest room with a private onsen at the Fufu Nara hotel, in Nara.Andrea Fazzari
If anything, it denotes a troubling lack of appreciation for one of natures most bewitching phenomena.
The ginkgo and maple trees turn the city into a patchwork of autumnal majesty.
To them, beauty didnt mean sakura, which they saw as too flashy; beauty meant maple.
From left: The lobby lounge at the W Osaka; a view of Osaka from the W.Andrea Fazzari
My thoughts run wild.
Why do we travel?
We travel in search of the new and the wondrous, those beautiful bedfellows of the young mind.
And no place evokes wonder in the traveler as deeply and consistently as Japan.
At every turn, the discoveries leave you awestruck: The conductor who bows to an empty train car.
A calendar that marks not four, but 72 (micro) seasons.
How does the presence of new humans in our lives irrevocably alter the way we see the world?
In the end, we travel because its the closest we can get to becoming a kid again.
Ramen and yakitori prove reliable daily staples, buttressed with an ever-rotating roster of convenience-store snacks.
But today is different.
Today, we go to Tempura Matsu.
Not in the overused superlative way of modern food writing, but in the truest sense.
Shunichi, the bighearted patriarch, passed away a few years later.
Upon arrival, we are showered with attention and a Santa sack of beautifully wrapped gifts.
Behind the hickory counter, in a generous open-air kitchen, Toshio Matsuno works his sorcery.
For Diego, Toshio has made something special: handmade ramen noodles with a little sidecar of dipping sauce.
I breathe a sigh of relief, and we shower Toshio witharigatos and half-bows.
But when it comes time to eat, Diegos chopsticks dont budge.
These arent the ramen noodles I like, he protests.
I am not amused.
Toshio returns with a bit of tempura, hoping the crispy sweet potatoes and shrimp will break the standoff.
I eat them, bitterly, and the struggle continues.
I swing from angry to desperate, yet the more I push, the harder he stands his ground.
I turn to Diego to say something conciliatory, but hes already asleep.
I enroll us in Ninja University a class at the Samurai Ninja Museum.
First, we tackle the ninja stars.
Made of hard plastic, they sink into the Styrofoam wall with a decent flick of the wrist.
Next we move on to katanas, or samurai swords, then finally to the sacred blowguns.
For all the focus weve paid to our older son, its the baby Japan is most interested in.
Everywhere we take Dylan, he commands an audience.
Maybe its the blond hair, the chubby cheeks, the high-wattage permasmile.
Or is it just that I never really understood how much the Japanese love babies?
I find that it works especially well in the quietest corners of Kyoto.
Take him to a temple and hell bring the house of holy down.
Something about the juxtaposition of hushed contemplation and giggling baby makes people unreasonably happy.
But the truth is that there arent many quiet corners left in this city.
The crowds in Kyoto are every bit as big as Ive been warned bigger, in fact.
We pass Nanzen-ji and its pulsing crowd.
Heian is a thicket of visitors.
Below, a small cemetery, and beyond, the sprawl of greater Kyoto in the fading afternoon light.
The magic is alive, there to be unearthed just paces from the pandemonium.
Day 8
Universal Studios Japan, Osaka
We hadnt planned to go to Osaka.
We wanted this to be a simple trip, with as few stops as possible.
Not just because of the people those famously funny, hospitable denizens.
But this time around, theres something or someone drawing us back.
Theres an hour-long line for rainbow popcorn.
Bus after bus of schoolchildren (I want to go to school in Japan!
A wild collision of humans memorializing their every second inside the park.
After dropping in on the Minions and the Hogwarts alumni, the big moment arrives.
When we emerge, its as if weve stepped through the screen of my parents rabbit-eared television.
Carnivorous plants snatch at the sky.
Golden coins glint in the afternoon sun.
Toad and Princess turn to address the crowd.
Welcome to the Mushroom Kingdom.
Diego does his little happy dance.
Dylan kicks and coos.
Laura reaches out and squeezes my hand.
This place isnt made for the kids.
Nor for the parents.
