17 August 2026

This morning began with a surprise.

For perhaps the first time in recorded family history, Kirokugari beat her mother, Yodogari, to breakfast. I was so startled by this development that I briefly wondered whether we had accidentally entered an alternate universe overnight.

Checking out of Hotel Villa Fontaine itself was surprisingly painless. No battles with reservations. No negotiations. No court proceedings. Just a straightforward departure from what had been our home in Tokyo.

As we made our way towards breakfast, we could not help but notice the steady stream of workers ascending the escalators into the Sumitomo Building. We were leaving. They were beginning their workday. It struck me that while some people spend their mornings planning adventures, others spend theirs preparing for meetings, presentations and deadlines.

Looking at many of their faces, one got the impression that if given the choice between work and holiday, most had already made their decision. Perhaps that is simply the human condition. Everyone seems to be working towards freedom while sacrificing freedom to achieve it.

By the time these deep philosophical observations had run their course, Hitto Doraiba and I had already established ourselves in the restaurant and were making serious progress through breakfast.

Yodogari arrived last. Unfortunately, she did not arrive alone. She brought drama. Just as she was settling into her seat, it was discovered that one of the pearls from her earrings had escaped captivity and disappeared somewhere within the restaurant.

What followed can only be described as The Great Pearl Hunt of Tokyo. Instantly, every member of the travelling party was conscripted into the search operation. The fugitive pearl had become Public Enemy Number One.

Chairs were inspected. Floors examined. Corners investigated. Eyes strained.

Hope rose. Hope fell. The pearl, meanwhile, remained entirely uncooperative. Despite our collective efforts, the escapee could not be located.

This did not improve Yodogari’s mood. Recognising the danger signs early, I instinctively decided that maintaining a safe distance from the victim of the theft was likely the wisest course of action.

Breakfast itself introduced us to another surprise.

Ratatouille.

Not the animated rat but the actual dish. Curiosity demanded experimentation so we tasted it. We reflected upon it. And I think it is fair to say that our lives would not have been significantly diminished had we never encountered it.

The experience did, however, reinforce the extraordinary influence of television. After all, here we were:

A dish popularised by a French rat. Prepared in a Japanese restaurant. Being consumed by Australian travellers of Nigerian ancestry. Globalisation, apparently, is doing quite well.

Soon it was time to leave and the task of retrieving Aricato from her two-day period of hibernation was delegated to Tehaigari and Kirokugari. One can only imagine that Aricato was grateful for the rest. After carrying us thousands of kilometres across Japan, she had earned a little rest.

Before heading to Narita Airport, however, two final destinations remained on our itinerary – The Planetarium and a Sumo Show.

With Kirokugari once again in the driver’s seat and Hitto Doraiba handling the loading operations, Aricato rolled out for one final day of service.

Our stop at the Planetarium was brief. Very brief. In fact, one could argue we spent more time hurrying to the Planetarium than we did actually inside it. The clock was working against us. The Sumo Show awaited and nobody wanted to miss it.

In hindsight, this was absolutely the correct decision. The Sumo Show delivered everything it promised and more. Indeed, if I were compiling a list of highlights from the entire trip, this experience would sit very close to the top.

The performers, introduced as Hiro and Koji, immediately won over the audience. Now, strictly speaking, they do not possess the monumental dimensions many people associate with professional sumo wrestlers. But what they lacked in mass they more than compensated for through personality, humour and showmanship.

The performance was wonderfully interactive. Everyone became involved. Everyone became invested. Everyone laughed.

At various points the audience was shouting dambare ( protesting perceived fouls), dame (encouragements) and generally behaving as if the outcome carried national importance. By the end, we were all thoroughly entertained.

The mood inside Aricato afterwards reflected this. The atmosphere was light. People were smiling. The previous days’ tensions felt distant.

The trip to Narita Airport took roughly an hour, and once everyone had been delivered safely to Terminal 2, a final responsibility remained.

Returning Aricato.

That responsibility fell to me. Having heard repeated warnings regarding the potentially catastrophic financial consequences of damaging a rental vehicle in Japan, I adopted what can only be described as an ultra-conservative driving strategy.

Every turn was taken carefully. Every lane change thoughtfully. Every manoeuvre executed with the concentration of a surgeon.

Fortunately, Aricato was delivered safely home. Unfortunately, another shock awaited.

The toll bill.

The electronic toll tag was finally calculated and the resulting figure nearly caused emotional injury. I stared at the amount in disbelief. In many countries such a toll bill might trigger public protests. In feudal Japan it may well have been sufficient cause for hara-kiri. Only Japan could create a road network so impressive and simultaneously so expensive.

My shuttle ride back to Narita Airport after returning Aricato was one of mixed emotions.

There was joy. The trip had succeeded. Nobody missed a flight. Nobody crashed a vehicle. Nobody became permanently lost.

Yet there was also sadness. Every wonderful thing we had experienced had come with a price tag. Some financial. Some emotional.

And now the adventure was ending. Returning to Narita, I found the rest of the team waiting in the vast labyrinth that is the airport.

Soon came the inevitable moment. The goodbyes. The gate announcements. The different directions. The journeys home.

And then the tears. Particularly from Kirokugari, whose eyes suddenly decided that airport departures were an appropriate time to begin producing rivers.

Standing there watching everyone gradually disappear towards their various departure gates, I found myself reflecting on what we had accomplished.

Napoleon famously declared:

“I came, I saw, I conquered.”

The members of Samurai 2026 might phrase it differently.We came.We saw. We bonded.*

Japan was not what we expected. The trip certainly wasn’t what we expected. Yet somehow it gave us far more than we anticipated.

In just seven days we achieved something many people would have considered impossible. We travelled from different time zones using fourteen separate flight connections, any one of which could have gone wrong.

We collected a rental vehicle governed by enough terms and conditions to make a lawyer nervous. We drove across a country where we spoke virtually none of the language.

We navigated Narita, Fujikawaguchiko, Kyoto, Osaka, Hiroshima and Tokyo. We survived toll roads, traffic jams, wrong turns and navigation disagreements.

Drivers changed regularly. Luggage was loaded. Luggage was unloaded. Hotels were checked into and checked out. Breakfasts were chased. Attractions were squeezed into impossible schedules. Photographs were taken at every conceivable opportunity.

Somehow, through all of it, we made it work.

Along the way we stayed at the Narita Tobu Airport Hotel, Haostay, Travelodge Kyoto, Toyoko Inn Hiroshima and Hotel Villa Fontaine.

Each became part of the story. Each now forms part of our shared family memory.

So to every member of Samurai 2026:

Thank you.

Well done.

And congratulations.

As this chapter closes, I hope we remember that the most important thing we brought home was not souvenirs, photographs or stories.

It was one another. Families do not stay connected by accident. They remain connected through shared experiences, shared effort and shared memories.

And this trip gave us all three.

Because, at the end of the day, this is the only family we have.

A Few Lessons from Japan

1. Less is More

You can see it everywhere. Small cars. Small homes. Smaller spaces. Yet somehow everything works.

Japan continually demonstrates that effectiveness does not always require excess.

2. Waste is Unwelcome

From water taps delivering only the amount needed to the careful use of space and resources, efficiency appears to be embedded into everyday life. Nothing seems designed to waste.

3. Even Powerhouses Have Problems

Japan’s achievements are extraordinary. The trains. The roads. The bridges. The tunnels. The earthquake resilience.

Yet despite all this ingenuity, one still finds puddles after rain, ageing facilities and the everyday challenges that every society faces. It was a reminder that no country is perfect.

Every nation, no matter how advanced, is still a work in progress. And perhaps that lesson applies equally to families.

We are not perfect. We argue. We annoy one another. We misunderstand one another. Yet somehow we keep moving forward together.

Just like Samurai 2026.

Yours,

Kokaishi✈️🇯🇵❤️🏯