emmyinjapan

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Kyushu Hakata Daikichi Sushi (九州 はかた 大吉寿司)

Dinner here was a delightful surprise. I’ve always loved conveyor belt sushi—watching plates zoom by, trying to grab the perfect one before it vanishes. But this place? It went next level with wagyu beef and—brace yourself—horse meat sushi. I know, sounds wild, but trust me, it was delicious. The wagyu melted in my mouth, and the horse meat? Surprisingly delicate and rich. Culinary adventure, anyone?

What really won me over, though, was the option to customise the rice. I’m not a fan of sushi rice mountains—just a little is enough so the fish can shine. The ability to adjust it made all the difference. Oh, and being a massive uni (sea urchin) fan, I had to indulge. It was creamy, fresh, and pure bliss. Sure, it cost a bit more than your average conveyor belt spot, but with quality like that, every yen was worth it.

—Emmy

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Capturing the Last Autumn Leaves at Mifuneyama Rakuen (御船山楽園)

Towards the tail end of autumn, I managed to catch a fleeting glimpse of Mifuneyama Rakuen’s final autumn leaves, just before they were swept away by the winds. The weather, as it so often does, decided to be a bit temperamental—cloudy and windy—but at least it was kind enough not to rain. I hadn’t bothered with an umbrella that day, which, of course, meant that the skies seemed to conspire against me, but I wasn’t about to let a little breeze spoil my adventure.

At just 500 yen for admission, I’d say it’s one of the best deals for an experience that felt straight out of a dream. The moment I stepped into the garden, I was transported into a world where time seemed to slow down. Mifuneyama Rakuen, with its vast, sprawling grounds, is nothing short of magical. Covering over 500,000 square metres, the garden is home to hundreds of thousands of trees and flowers, each season painting the landscape in a new palette of colours. From the early bloom of cherry blossoms in spring to the rich hues of autumn, there’s always something spectacular happening.

In spring, the garden bursts into life with vibrant cherry blossoms, followed by the rich greens of summer, when the trees provide a lush canopy of shade. Then, as autumn arrives, the garden transforms again, this time with a fiery explosion of reds, oranges, and yellows. Even in winter, there’s beauty to be found, with the trees standing proudly against the crisp air, and the occasional plum blossom daring to bloom early.

Located about two hours from Hakata Station, this tranquil retreat feels like a hidden gem tucked away from the city’s hustle and bustle. As I wandered the paths, I was surrounded by an enchanting array of trees, many of which had already begun their autumnal dance, shedding their leaves in a glorious burst of colour. Some of the trees clung to their last golden hues, while others, like old soldiers, stood tall and proud, their branches swaying in the breeze.

It’s hard to put into words just how peaceful and awe-inspiring this garden is. The air smelled of damp earth and crisp leaves, and with every step, I was greeted by new vistas, each more stunning than the last. If you’ve ever felt like stepping into a painting or a dream, this was as close as it gets.

—Emmy

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Walking through a dream...

I had the chance to visit Mifuneyama Rakuen, where the renowned TeamLab had set up one of their mind-blowing exhibitions. Picture a magical, fairy-tale world of lights and mystery—like stepping into another dimension where reality takes a break, and enchantment takes over. The glowing orbs, shimmering pathways, and dreamlike reflections made it feel like the love child of a fantasy novel and a sci-fi film.

After leaving, I felt as though I had just woken up from a dream.

—Emmy

[emmyinjapan]

Iyemon Café (伊右衛門カフェ)

🍨🍵🍃🍡🥝🍌🍒🍊

I had an absolutely massive craving for matcha ice cream, mochi, and fruits—basically, all the good stuff life has to offer. My sweet tooth had reached dangerous levels of rebellion, so I knew I had to act fast. Thankfully, while wandering through Lalaport, I stumbled upon this charming little café that practically whispered, "You deserve this."

Without hesitation, I ordered the Mitsumame topped with bean jam, matcha ice cream, and fruits (宇治抹茶 ソフトクリーム あんみつ)—a glorious treat for just 890 yen. It looked like a dessert masterpiece crafted by angels with a serious flair for Instagram. The matcha ice cream was this perfect shade of green that practically screamed “authentic,” sitting proudly atop a bed of chewy mochi, juicy fruit slices, and bean jam so silky it could have been used as a spa treatment.

One bite in, and I was transported to dessert heaven. The earthy bitterness of the matcha balanced the sweetness of the bean jam like a symphony in my mouth. The mochi was delightfully chewy, and the fruits added that perfect pop of freshness. I savoured every spoonful like it was a life-or-death situation because, honestly, in that moment, it was. If indulgence were an Olympic sport, I would’ve been gold-medal material.

—Emmy

[emmyinjapan]

A Random Rooftop Garden

Tsubame-No-Mori Hiroba Rooftop Garden (屋上庭園 つばめの杜ひろば) and the Railway Shrine (鉄道神社) are tucked away on the top floor of the Amu Plaza at Hakata Station, and let me tell you, it’s a delightful mishmash of surprises that feels like a rooftop Wonderland.

First, let’s talk about the giant dinosaur-shaped plant. Yes, someone, somewhere, decided a massive shrub needed to become a prehistoric icon, and honestly, I respect the vision. It looms over the rooftop like a gentle guardian of greenery, reminding you that even plants can have personality. Just a few steps away, I came across a Moana stand. Why? No clue. Presumably, it was leftover from promoting the movie, but it did feel oddly fitting in this rooftop mash-up of themes. Nothing says “relaxing garden” quite like a Polynesian princess and a leafy dinosaur.

As I wandered further, the Christmas lights stole the show. There were glowing animal sculptures dotted around—an illuminated squirrel, a rabbit, and even a bear—standing proudly against the wind as if this was their personal rooftop kingdom. It felt like an enchanted rooftop woodland had been plopped down right in the middle of the city, and I couldn’t help but smile at the quirky charm of it all.

And then came the Railway Shrine. Yes, a shrine. For trains. On a rooftop. In a station. I couldn’t decide if it was an ingenious spiritual offering for safe travels or just a genius tourist attraction, but either way, it had an odd charm. It’s a little pocket of serenity surrounded by plants, lights, and city buzz.

The rooftop also offers a view of the city, though it’s a mix of beauty and practicality. The glittering skyline stretched out before me, but the sight of a few cranes peppering the view reminded me of the city’s ever-evolving nature. Somehow, even the cranes added a certain urban charm, like a work-in-progress masterpiece.

With the cold wind howling, the eclectic mix of dinosaurs, Disney, glowing woodland creatures, and railway spirituality, I couldn’t help but marvel at the sheer randomness of it all. It’s a rooftop like no other—a place where tradition, whimsy, and the spirit of Hakata converge. Just don’t forget your coat in winter, because that wind is no joke!

—Emmy

[emmyinjapan]

Sunset on the way home...

This is the usual route I take to and from work every day. I walk about 30 minutes each way, and over time, it’s become a bit of a ritual—one that gives me a chance to clear my mind before the day starts, and reflect a little on the way home.

The bridge I stand on is Kiyomi Ohashi (清美大橋), and it’s one of those places that, without fail, offers a moment of quiet beauty. The river beneath is always calm, its surface a perfect mirror, reflecting the sky above and adding to the tranquility of the scene. It’s the kind of view that makes you forget you're just on your way to work, pulling you into a moment of peace in the middle of the city.

In the morning, the river often welcomes elegant cranes, standing perfectly still at the water's edge, like statues carved by nature itself. They exude a quiet dignity, as if they own the place and know it. Watching them in their stillness feels like glimpsing a moment frozen in time—a small, magical sight that makes you pause and smile before continuing on your way.

Each day, as I cross Kiyomi Ohashi, the gentle view of the calm river and the occasional bird offers a quiet reprieve from the rush of life. It’s a serene reminder to pause, breathe, and embrace the fleeting moments of stillness and connection that so often go unnoticed amidst the chaos.

—Emmy

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Santas Take Over Tenjin Central Park: Christmas 2024 Edition

I was in a conference at a nearby venue during the day, and every now and then, I’d glance out the window and notice something that made me do a double-take—lots of Santas in the distance. I couldn't quite wrap my head around it at first. Was I seeing things? Had I accidentally stumbled into a Christmas fever dream? Anyway, curiosity got the better of me, and I decided to investigate. I went over in the evening, and let me tell you, the sight that greeted me was nothing short of bizarrely brilliant.

At Tenjin Central Park, for reasons beyond my understanding, there was an absolute army of Santa statues. It was like an orchestra of Santas—each one in their own little world, striking different poses and sporting varying expressions like they were auditioning for a Christmas play. Some looked jolly, some looked serious, some even seemed a bit... disinterested, as if they were just trying to get through the holiday season without too much fuss. And then, just to add a touch of the bizarre to this festive tableau, there were a few Santa statues wearing shorts and sunglasses. Yes, you heard that right—Santa in shorts and shades. I’m not sure if they were embracing the "beach holiday" spirit or just feeling like they needed a little extra coolness, but it was definitely an unexpected twist on the classic Santa look.

It was like a Santa convention had accidentally taken over the park, with each statue bringing their own unique style to the table. You could almost imagine them all breaking out into a Christmas choir at any moment, except one Santa might be a bit off-key because, well, he’s wearing sunglasses and probably squinting. Honestly, it was the sort of sight that made me stop and think, “Only in Japan would you see an entire park filled with Santa statues.” It was absolutely delightful in the most wonderfully peculiar way.

—Emmy

[emmyinjapan]

Hakata Station December 2024 🎄

Hakata Station at Christmas 2024 was an absolute winter wonderland! The centrepiece, of course, was a massive Christmas tree, its lights twinkling with such festive enthusiasm that it almost looked like it was in competition with the stars. The colours were a dazzling mix of reds, greens, and golds, making the whole area look like a giant Christmas card come to life. And as if that wasn’t enough to put you in the holiday spirit, there were four Santa statues dotted around the area, each one sitting more jolly than the last, as if they were on a well-deserved break from delivering presents.

Naturally, the place was packed, especially in December when everyone was eager to soak up the holiday cheer. The atmosphere was buzzing with excitement—shoppers, families, and tourists alike all gathered around to take in the display. Food and drink stalls lined the walkways, offering everything from hot chocolate that could melt the coldest of hearts to sweet treats that would make even the Grinch himself crack a smile. The smell of grilled snacks filled the air, and you could hear the occasional jingle of festive music playing in the background.

I’d pass by here nearly every evening after work, and it was always lively—like a mini celebration on my way home. There would often be bands playing live music on a stage, adding to the merry vibe. It was the kind of place where you could stop for a moment, sip on something warm, and let the festive tunes fill the air. Honestly, it felt like the whole of Hakata Station had been transformed into one big Christmas party, and everyone was invited. I half-expected to see Rudolph himself popping out from behind a stall to offer me a mulled wine. But hey, with the tree so bright and the Santas so merry, I wasn’t going to complain. It was Christmas in full swing—colourful, chaotic, and wonderfully festive.

—Emmy

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Meet the Fukuoka Atago Shrine "Hozukkin-chan"

This shrine has its very own mascot, and let me tell you, she’s absolutely adorable. You’ll find a stand-up poster of her by the seating area at the shrine—proudly displayed, as if she’s the star of the show. And naturally, a few girls were there, snapping selfies with her, as though she were the real celebrity of the day.

—Emmy

[emmyinjapan]

Atago Shrine (愛宕神社) ❤️ ⛩️

The oldest shrine in Fukuoka City.

After dragging myself up what felt like an unending staircase, wheezing like an old kettle and seriously questioning my fitness levels, I finally reached the top—and despite the effort, it was absolutely worth it. Before me stretched a stunning panoramic view of Fukuoka City, even under the moody grey skies of a cloudy day. The iconic Fukuoka Tower stood tall in the distance, piercing the overcast sky like a quiet sentinel, while the city below shimmered faintly, muted but still breathtaking.

—Emmy

[emmyinjapan]

Christmas in Japan = KFC 🍗

Christmas 2024 was a memorable one for me, not just because of the festive cheer, but because it was the first Christmas I had KFC! Now, my family in the UK has always been pretty traditional when it comes to Christmas dinner—we’re talking turkey, stuffing, the whole shebang. But in Japan, Christmas means something a little different, and that something is KFC. Yes, you read that right—fried chicken takes centre stage on the Christmas table in Japan, and I couldn’t wait to join in the tradition.

I must admit, I was a bit baffled at first. KFC for Christmas? But then I learned it’s actually quite the thing here. The whole nation seems to get excited about it, as if Colonel Sanders himself has become a festive icon. Mid-December, I spotted the Colonel all dressed up as Santa in a KFC storefront window. There he was, in full red suit, a jolly smile plastered across his face, looking like he’d just hopped off the sleigh and into a chicken bucket. It was like a delightful Japanese Christmas miracle: the fusion of Western Christmas with the distinctly Japanese love for fried chicken.

So, off I went, joining in the KFC madness. I have to say, it was a delightful experience. The crispy chicken, the mash, the gravy (though I’m still not entirely sure it was ‘traditional’ gravy), and of course, the festive bucket that looked more like something you’d expect to find at a fast-food rave than a traditional holiday dinner. But somehow, it worked. The atmosphere was lively, the staff were in the best Christmas spirit, and everyone around seemed genuinely excited to dig into their fried chicken feast. It was like discovering a whole new Christmas tradition.

In the UK, we'd be polishing off mince pies and turkey leftovers, but here in Japan, it’s all about crispy chicken with a side of festive cheer. Honestly, I can’t help but think this is one of the most amusing—and most delicious—Christmas traditions I’ve ever encountered. I’m not sure if I’ll give up turkey entirely, but this time, KFC definitely had my vote for Christmas dinner.

—Emmy

[emmyinjapan]

Atago Otojiro Inari Shrine (愛宕音次郎稲荷神社)

As I made my way through the many torii gates of Atago Otojiro Inari Shrine, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d wandered into a delightful alternate reality. It was like stepping onto the set of some quirky spiritual film—except the entire cast was made up of cats, rubber ducks, frogs, and shrine guardian statues.

What really struck me, though, was the complete and utter absence of people. No one at the booth, no tourists, no pilgrims—just me, alone with my strange but peaceful companions. And I have to admit, I loved it. There’s something quite special about being completely alone in a place like this, the silence wrapping around you like a warm blanket. It was as if the world had pressed pause, giving me a much-needed moment of solitude.

As I walked through the torii gates, I couldn’t help but feel that the place was a sanctuary—one where the only thing more prevalent than tranquillity was the bizarre charm of frogs and ducks. The shrine guardians stood watch, silently holding court, while I wandered freely, soaking in the peacefulness. It was like a personal retreat, away from the world, and I thoroughly enjoyed the calm of being completely alone, surrounded by my animal entourage.

Who needs the hustle and bustle of crowds when you’ve got rubber ducks sitting around, frogs lounging in zen-like poses, and cats with enough attitude to keep things interesting? Honestly, it was one of the best moments of the day—perfectly blending peace, serenity, and just the right amount of quirky animal mischief to make it unforgettable.

—Emmy

[emmyinjapan]

Cats at Atago Otojiro Inari Shrine (愛宕音次郎稲荷神社)

As I approached the Atago Otojiro Inari Shrine, my attention was immediately captured by a couple of mysterious feline figures hanging out near the torii gates. Now, I’ve always had a soft spot for cats—they’re such beautiful, enigmatic creatures, and let’s face it, they’re pretty much the royalty of the animal kingdom.

At the entrance, I encountered a rather grumpy-looking black cat, who seemed to be guarding the shrine with an air of quiet authority. It gave me the kind of stare that said, "I don’t need you, but I’ll tolerate your existence for now." Its attitude was pure feline mystery—like it was involved in some ancient, secretive cat society that I was never meant to understand. The second cat, a white and grey one, was more laid-back, but still had that slightly aloof vibe. It sauntered around the torii entrance like it owned the place, giving me a look that basically screamed, "I’m just here for the snacks, human. Don’t get any ideas."

Honestly, watching these two was like observing the beginning of an epic feline drama—a grumpy, enigmatic leader and its slightly more relaxed companion, both silently plotting their next move, probably towards some hidden stash of treats. These cats were no ordinary shrine residents; they were the true gatekeepers, and I felt privileged just to be in their presence. It's like they were saying, “Sure, you’re here for a spiritual journey, but remember—no one leaves without earning the trust of the cats.”

🐱

—Emmy

[emmyinjapan]

Ducks & Frogs...

While en route to the Atago Main Shrine, I stumbled upon a delightful little detour called Atago Otojiro Inari Shrine (愛宕音次郎稲荷神社)—and honestly, it was quackers. Instead of the usual solemn shrine atmosphere, I was greeted by an utterly charming scene: bright yellow rubber ducks lounging about alongside four tiny green frogs perched on vibrant green leaves.

Each frog had its own unique vibe. One was laid out flat, basking in the imaginary sun as if on a miniature tropical holiday. Another sat upright in perfect meditation pose, radiating inner peace like the Buddha of amphibians. The third frog stood tall with a tiny paddle in hand, leaning over its leafy “boat” with all the grace of a slightly bewildered Italian gondolier, ready to drift aimlessly down a pond with a charmingly confused look on its face. And the fourth? Well, it was just… there, chilling, existing, contributing to the aesthetic without a care in the world.

Meanwhile, the yellow ducks sat around confidently, clearly in charge of the whole operation. It was such an unexpectedly whimsical sight that my original destination completely slipped my mind. Who needs the “main” shrine when you’ve got ducks and frogs delivering a masterclass in relaxation, mischief, and the art of simply existing? Honestly, it was the highlight of the day���and proof that even frogs can have big personalities.

—Emmy

[emmyinjapan]

Good morning from Fukuoka!

Yesterday was absolutely freezing, and to my utter shock, it snowed overnight. The roads turned into an ice rink, and just getting to the office felt like I was starring in a low-budget survival film, complete with snow flying into my eyes as if nature itself was the villain.

There were so many moments where I felt I’d narrowly escaped death—honestly, I deserve an award for Best Slippery Pavement Performance. As a creature who thrives in warm weather, this cold is absolutely not my thing. All I want is to be rolled up in a duvet like a human burrito, sipping something hot, and pretend winter isn’t real.

Somehow, I managed to make it to the office in one piece, but I’m not entirely sure how I’ll survive the journey home. If you don’t hear from me, assume I’ve been claimed by the great Fukuoka freeze. Send a duvet and some warm thoughts in my memory.

—Emmy

[emmyinjapan]

Momochi Beach (ももち海浜)

I remember during my first week back in Japan, the heat hit me like a wall. It was blazing hot—32°C and climbing—and, in a desperate bid to cool down, I decided to walk to Momochi Beach (ももち海浜). I thought, Ah, the sea breeze will surely save me. Maybe I’ll even dip my toes in the water and feel human again. Spoiler alert: I was very wrong.

By the time I got there, I felt like a melting ice cream cone. The sun was relentless, and instead of a refreshing sea breeze, there was nothing but still, sweltering air that seemed to wrap around me like an oven. I trudged through the sand, half-hoping I’d discover some hidden oasis of coolness, but it only got hotter. At this point, I was genuinely starting to wonder if I’d evaporate before the day was over.

Eventually, I gave up on exploring and collapsed under the shade of a tree, clutching my water bottle like it was my lifeline. Even in the shade, the heat was unforgiving. I swear, I could almost see the steam rising off my skin. I sat there, a sweaty, slightly defeated mess, staring out at the sea and trying to convince myself that this was fun. This is what you wanted, right? A beautiful beach day in Japan? Living the dream!

Don’t get me wrong—it was a good day to be outside, but I couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed. The beach wasn’t as big as I’d imagined. I had pictured long, sprawling stretches of sand, endless waves, and maybe a few palm trees swaying gently in the breeze. Instead, Momochi Beach felt more compact, a little more urban, and not quite the paradise I had envisioned.

Looking back, I probably should have explored some of the other beaches in the area. Maybe found one with fewer people and more shade—or perhaps even an air-conditioned café right by the water! But hey, I’ll give Momochi Beach credit where it’s due. The views of the Fukuoka Tower in the distance were stunning, and it was nice to just sit there and take it all in… even if I felt like I was being slow-cooked the entire time.

By the time I got home, I looked like I had run a marathon rather than spent a relaxing day at the beach. But it was all part of the adventure. That’s the thing about life in Japan—every day brings something new, even if it’s the lesson to always carry extra sunscreen, a hat, and maybe a portable fan.

After trudging back to my apartment, drenched in sweat and thoroughly roasted by the unforgiving sun, I felt a wave of pure relief the moment I walked through the door. The aircon hit me like a blessing from the heavens, and all I could think was, Thank you, modern technology. Thank you.

I didn’t even bother with the sofa or the bed—I just flopped straight onto my yoga mat, which had never felt so luxurious in my life. Lying there, sprawled out like a starfish under the sweet, cooling breeze of the aircon, I felt a kind of happiness that words can barely capture. It was as if every ounce of heat and exhaustion was being gently lifted away, replaced by the sheer bliss of being still and, most importantly, not melting.

For a good while, I didn’t move. I just stared up at the ceiling, letting the aircon work its magic, and thought about how underrated it is to simply be comfortable. After a day of battling the elements at Momochi Beach, this moment of peace and coolness was the highlight of my day. Sometimes, it’s the little things—like a yoga mat and an aircon—that truly make life in Japan feel like an adventure worth taking.

—Emmy

[emmyinjapan]

Just a few thoughts since moving to Hakata, Fukuoka...

This was the very first photo I took when I moved into my apartment in Fukuoka. I remember standing there, gazing out of the window, and thinking, Wow, this is going to be so peaceful compared to London! I imagined quiet evenings and restful nights, far away from the hustle and bustle of the city life I’d grown accustomed to back home.

Oh, how wrong I was.

It didn’t take long for me to realise that quiet is a relative term. While Fukuoka is certainly smaller and less chaotic than London, my apartment is far from the sanctuary of silence I initially envisioned. For one, I live right next to a playground and a school. The sound of children playing—laughing, shouting, and sometimes screaming—echoes through the air in the mornings, often jolting me awake far earlier than I’d like.

And then there are the sirens and alarms at night. At first, I was startled, wondering what could be happening. But now I’ve come to accept them as part of the rhythm of life here. It’s almost comforting in a way, knowing the city is alive, even after dark.

The walls of my apartment are another surprise. They’re thinner than I expected, which means I sometimes hear my neighbours going about their lives—conversations, footsteps, the occasional muffled TV show. It’s not always ideal, and yes, it can be a little frustrating when I’m craving peace and quiet. But, oddly enough, it’s not a bad experience.

What my apartment lacks in quiet, it more than makes up for in convenience. There’s a Family Mart right downstairs, which has become my go-to for late-night snacks or when I need something in a pinch. Shops, restaurants, and other amenities are just a short walk away, making it easy to grab whatever I need without much effort. And the best part? Hakata Station is only a 15-minute walk from my apartment, giving me quick access to the city and beyond. Having such a central location means I’m always close to the action, and it’s made exploring Fukuoka so much easier.

And you know what? Compared to Tokyo, I definitely prefer Fukuoka. Tokyo is incredible in its own way—vibrant, fast-paced, and overflowing with endless things to do. But it’s also overwhelming, crowded, and expensive. Fukuoka, on the other hand, feels far more balanced. It has all the conveniences of a big city, but with a slower pace and a friendlier atmosphere. The cost of living is more reasonable, the streets are less crowded, and there’s a real sense of community here that Tokyo sometimes lacks.

There’s a certain charm to it all. The hum of the playground during the day, the distant chatter from next door, the unexpected sound of sirens breaking the stillness of the night—it’s a constant reminder that I’m in the heart of a vibrant, living city. Fukuoka has its own pulse, its own soundtrack, and my apartment is perfectly placed to hear it all.

In a way, this noise has become part of my new normal, part of what makes life here feel real and authentic. While I occasionally miss the tranquillity I imagined, I’ve come to appreciate the lively, imperfect beauty of it all. Life in Fukuoka isn’t quiet, but it’s full of energy, character, and charm—qualities that make me feel like I’m truly part of this wonderful city. And compared to the overwhelming buzz of Tokyo, Fukuoka feels like home.

—Emmy