15 August 2026

This morning started well enough.

Breakfast at the Toyoko Hotel was early, plentiful and surprisingly good. Even more pleasing was the fact that most members of the travelling party demonstrated a commendable relationship with time.

Hiro Doraiba appeared promptly as expected. Tehaigari arrived about five minutes late, which under family travel regulations remains within the range of acceptability. Then there was Kirokugari.

I have now come to accept that certain members of the travelling party regard punctuality as a recommendation rather than a requirement. She eventually appeared with all the confidence and self-assurance of royalty descending a palace staircase to greet waiting subjects.

Outside, Higashihiroshima was still half asleep. The roads were quiet, most businesses appeared yet to begin their day, and even the birds seemed reluctant to clock in for work. By the time Aricato was retrieved from her overnight shelter and loaded, the town was only just beginning to stir.

At 7:35am we set off.

Unlike previous driving days, everyone understood the challenge before us. Today was The Long One. The journey from Higashihiroshima to Tokyo would consume the better part of the day. If things went well, perhaps twelve hours. If they did not, closer to fourteen. As events unfolded, fourteen proved to be the more realistic estimate.

Kirokugari took the opening shift behind the wheel. As we left town, I found myself once again struck by something that has become a recurring theme throughout rural Japan. Almost every residence appears to have a rice paddy nearby. It is as if an unwritten national policy exists stating that no household should be more than a short walk away from food production. Food security is clearly important in Japan.

Fuel security, however, was about to become our problem.

Aricato had been thirsty since the previous day and we planned to satisfy her needs at ttnearby Apollo filling station before beginning the long haul to Tokyo. The plan sounded simple. The reality proved otherwise. One after another our various financial instruments failed us spectacularly.

Revolut. Rejected. Wise. Rejected. International credit cards. Rejected.

If the fuel pump had possessed hands, it would probably have returned the cards with a note attached reading:

“Please try again in another country.”

Before long, five supposedly prepared international travellers found themselves pooling together whatever Japanese yen could be found in pockets, wallets and forgotten compartments. Thankfully there was just enough to give Aricato a drink substantial enough to prevent mechanical dehydration.

With that accomplished, we left hoping that civilisation would eventually return in the form of a card machine willing to cooperate with foreigners.

Unfortunately, peace did not accompany us. No sooner had we left the filling station than the first argument of the day erupted. Yodogari observed that Kirokugari occupied a lane she believed she should not occupy and recommended that she change lanes. Kirokugari acknowledged the advice and indicated she would. Yodogari repeated the recommendation. Then repeated it once more.

At this point something resembling an emotional dam burst. Words began flowing. Some measured. Some unmeasured. Some perhaps better omitted from the official family archives.

As the exchange unfolded, I sat quietly observing proceedings and found myself thinking only one thing:

“Yes, this is definitely my family.”

Fortunately there were no lasting casualties, though two road exits may have suffered collateral damage. In fairness, however, Japan’s roads deserve some of the blame. By this stage of the trip, I have formed the view that Japanese road designers belong to a secret society dedicated to ensuring nobody reaches their destination without paying at least three unexpected tolls.

Miss an exit? Pay. Take the wrong turning? Pay. Breathe aggressively near an expressway? Possibly pay.

Still, after several navigational adventures and a few involuntary donations to the Japanese toll authority, we eventually settled into a comfortable cruising rhythm.

And in doing so, we began to appreciate once again just how remarkable this country truly is. Japan is not merely a country. It is a giant engineering project. Everywhere one looks there are mountains. Wherever a mountain obstructs progress there is a tunnel. Wherever a valley interrupts a route there is a bridge. Wherever geography presents a challenge, the Japanese appear to have responded by building through, over or around it. The result is extraordinary. The toll charges, however, remain a matter under active family review.

Everywhere we looked there were mountains, forests, little towns tucked neatly into valleys and graveyards perched on hillsides. The scenery was so consistently beautiful that it almost became unfair.

Around midday we arrived at Himeji Castle.

Whether Kirokugari was still carrying emotional remnants from the morning’s diplomatic disagreement remains a matter of speculation, but upon arrival she elected to drop the rest of the team off and proceed alone in search of parking.

This was perhaps a wise decision. Even at a UNESCO World Heritage Site, Japan remains committed to its philosophy that no motor vehicle shall rest without first paying tribute.

The brief stop provided an opportunity to stretch our legs, visit the facilities and, most importantly, take photographs.

The castle itself was striking. Perched elegantly atop Himeyama Hill, its brilliant white exterior seemed to glow against the sky. Looking at it standing proudly above the landscape, one could almost hear it responding positively to Christ’s instruction to build your house upon a rock.

As impressive as it was, our admiration was strengthened by another discovery. The admission fee.

By the time someone multiplied the entrance cost by five family members, we concluded that the exterior views were more than sufficient for our cultural needs.

The castle remained beautiful. Our bank balances remained healthier. Everybody won.

Soon we were back inside Aricato and the journey resumed.

Kirokugari’s driving shift had ended and she joined the rest of us commoners in the rear seats.

Unfortunately, nature immediately launched an attack. Hay fever struck. First came a sneeze. Then another. Soon there were watery eyes, a running nose and enough sneezing to convince an observer that she had personally offended every grain of pollen in western Japan. I briefly wondered whether the universe had decided to administer a lesson following her earlier interaction with Yodogari. Then I remembered that I am supposed to be compassionate.

Besides, thank goodness it was not infectious. The thought of arriving in Tokyo as a convoy of red-eyed sneezing tourists would have been deeply concerning. To her credit, Kirokugari bore her ailment with admirable grace and very little complaining.

Around this time, our earlier confidence regarding Obon traffic also began collapsing. For days we had heard warnings. The roads will be crowded. Travel will be difficult. Expect delays. Having escaped major congestion thus far, we had quietly concluded that these warnings had been exaggerated. We were wrong. Spectacularly wrong.

What followed was the first of several traffic jams that would collectively add close to two hours to our journey. Vehicles slowed. Patience slowed. Time slowed. Everything slowed.

Well, almost everything. Tehaigari remained at least mentally capable of travelling much faster than the rest of the traffic. Twice she braked sharply enough to awaken sleeping passengers. After the second incident, I felt compelled to revisit the story of Mr Benson and remind everyone of one fundamental truth:

All incidents are preventable.

It is remarkable how much discussion can occur when five people spend almost fourteen hours trapped inside a moving metal box. At one point Hitto Doraiba transformed himself into a chemistry lecturer. Using explanations much simpler than anything I remember from school, he somehow got everyone discussing atoms, attraction, repulsion and chemical bonding. The fact that the lesson attracted sustained interest remains one of the great surprises of the trip.

I contributed by introducing discussions about Nigerian history, particularly the Nigerian Civil War and its aftermath. This unexpectedly captured Kirokugari’s attention and soon she wanted to know more. That naturally led us back to the abandoned Wisdom and Wonder podcast project, a father-and-daughter initiative launched enthusiastically many moons ago before being quietly shelved in the manner of many ambitious projects.

The discussion eventually drifted towards an even more dangerous topic. The celebration dinner at the end of our holiday. Someone asked how much should be budgeted per person. Immediately recognising the financial danger ahead, I adopted the strategy taught by MKO Abiola that a man’s head should not be shaved in his absence. I therefore removed myself from the conversation by pretending to be asleep. For added realism I included light snoring.

I am not entirely convinced the performance was convincing. Several arguments broke out regarding whether I was genuinely asleep or merely pretending. Regardless, the strategy worked. No budget figure was extracted from me. As far as I am concerned, this qualifies as a successful negotiation.

Later in the afternoon Tehaigari successfully guided us towards Mitsui Outlet Park Nagoya, where we intended to stretch our legs, purchase a few items and contribute modestly to the Japanese economy.

Unfortunately Japan’s road system had other plans. A navigational misunderstanding resulted in a wrong turn and though we eventually reached the expansive car park, another challenge presented itself.

Parking required cash. We did not possess sufficient cash. Cards would not be accepted. What followed was a fascinating standoff between five determined tourists and an elderly gate attendant who remained completely unmoved by our collective charm. To be fair, she was merely doing her job. And doing it exceptionally well. Being approximately 200 yen short was apparently just as problematic as being 20,000 yen short.

Disappointed but understanding, we retreated and found refuge at a nearby Lawson. By this point Kirokugari continued alternating between being annoyed and being annoying, which are not always the same thing. I therefore volunteered to relieve Tehaigari and took control of Aricato for my first driving shift of the trip.

My first assignment was simple: Feed Aricato. Thankfully, civilisation finally returned. Our credit cards worked. Diesel flowed. Aricato drank deeply. Everybody celebrated. Peace briefly returned to the kingdom.

The peace lasted until Hiro Doraiba attempted innovation. For reasons known only to himself, he decided that navigation would be improved by simultaneously using both Google Maps and Apple Maps. One system provided audio guidance. The other provided visual guidance.

Unfortunately, the two systems disagreed. This produced confusion. Confusion produced a wrong turn. The wrong turn produced another toll charge. At that point even modern technology was informed that enough was enough. The competing systems were separated and harmony restored.

For the final leg into Tokyo, Tehaigari resumed command. As darkness approached, we observed another interesting aspect of Japanese driving culture. Some motorists travelled at speeds suggesting they were attempting to catch tomorrow. Others appeared exceptionally knowledgeable about the locations of speed cameras.

More interestingly still, drivers warned one another of approaching cameras using flashing indicators. It reminded me of something important. Human beings are remarkably similar. We speak different languages.We eat different foods. We grow up in different cultures. Yet wherever you go, people still find ways to help one another. Perhaps we really are one giant tribe separated only by geography.

At precisely 9:22pm we arrived at Hotel Villa Fontaine in Tokyo. By then we had been travelling for almost fourteen hours.We were tired. We were hungry. We were sore. We wanted only two things: Food and beds. Unfortunately, Tokyo had one final challenge for us.

The front desk.

What followed was a masterclass in administrative persistence. Despite presenting reservation confirmations, passports, credit cards and enough supporting documentation to satisfy most courts of law, the receptionist remained unconvinced that our reservation should be honoured without modifications.

An increasingly exhausted family attempted diplomacy. The receptionist remained committed to procedure. The battle continued.

Meanwhile Aricato was escorted to a nearby public car park where she would enjoy a well-earned two-day rest while we explored Tokyo using trains and subways.

Eventually common sense prevailed. Room passes were issued. The crisis ended.

Yodogari immediately launched a food recovery mission, supported by Tehaigari, while the rest of us concentrated on remaining conscious.

As I lay in bed that night waiting for sleep to take over, I found myself reflecting on the day. The mountains. The tunnels. The bridges. The endless toll gates. The arguments. The discussions.The laughter. The ingenuity that built modern Japan. And the extraordinary privilege of sharing all of it with family.

We are Enid Blyton’s Famous Five. Five different personalities. Five different ways of thinking. Five different perspectives. Yet somehow one family travelling together across a remarkable country. That, more than the scenery, may ultimately be the memory I carry home.

What were your own thoughts?

Yours,

Kokaishi 🚗🇯🇵❤️