Japan: One Week Inside Another Simulation
A look at Japan's culture & identity, listening rooms, and sex industry.
People love Japan.
It’s one of those destinations that seems to inspire near universal admiration. Friends rave about it. Travel creators obsess over it. Entire corners of the internet are dedicated to explaining why Japan is the best travel destination.
So naturally, I kept finding myself wondering:
Do I love it too? What about Japan do people love?
Earlier this February, I spent a week in Tokyo. A week is obviously not long enough to really get to know a city, let alone an entire country. My experience is simply a narrow window into how living here feels.
Still, even within that short time, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Japan operates on a completely different system. Almost like if the world is running on a simulation, Japan would be running in a separate universe. I left Japan a little bit perplexed, with more questions than answers.
Here were some themes I noticed and some questions I had:
A City Dressed in Black
One of the first things that struck me about Tokyo was how people dressed. Especially on my morning walks, I noticed how everyone moved orderly through the streets in the same colour palette: Black coats, black trousers, black skirts, black shoes. Occasionally grey. Sometimes navy. Rarely colour.
I started to wonder whether colour reflects the emotional temperature of a city.
For example, I had just come back from Brazil where people wore bright colours and expressive outfits. The clothing felt celebratory and energetic, like the people themselves.
Tokyo felt much more restrained. The contrast wasn’t negative, but it was noticeable. Entire crowds moving through stations dressed in variations of the same dark tones. Cities like Toronto and New York share a similar aesthetic, where black becomes the unofficial uniform of urban life.
Do more serious, high-pressure places naturally gravitate toward darker palettes? Do our moods spill over to how we dress, and does how we dress also spill over to our mood? If so, should I start wearing less black?
(My current wardrobe is definitely more than 50% black).
Work Culture & Technology
Before arriving in Japan, I had already heard the term salaryman, often used to describe the archetypal office worker whose life revolves heavily around his company and career. I knew that many Japanese workers put in extremely long hours, with work heavily tied to identity and dating prospects (especially for men). I saw many people through the office building windows working in their cubicles late at night, even on Saturdays.
Every time I was on the train, at least half of the commuters in black would be half sleep, heads tilted down. It often felt like entire rows of passengers were catching small pockets of rest between stops, in exhaustion.
I began to wonder, is this why Japan built high-speed trains?
Before arriving in Japan, I also heard that Japan had some of the most innovative technology. It’s true, their high-speed train networks move millions of people across enormous distances with remarkable reliability.
Watching those tired commuters made me wonder… is part of the efficiency designed to help people travel further faster, work more, and ultimately produce more? In other words, is innovation designed to increase convenience and the quality of life, or designed to serve capitalism?
An Introvert’s Paradise or Isolation by Design?
Another fascinating cultural difference I noticed was how many spaces in Tokyo are designed for people to enjoy alone.
There’s a café I visited called Lion Café where talking is not allowed. Guests sit quietly facing forward and listen to classical music playing on vinyl in silence. (It was a magical experience, by the way.) Restaurants often have solo dining sections where each person sits in their own booth. I also found that many hostels center their experience around “comfort” zones rather than social areas.
I know many Westerners may feel awkward doing things alone. In Tokyo, solitude appears completely normalized. You can eat alone, drink alone, listen to music alone, or sit quietly for hours without anyone questioning it.
There’s also a softness to how people interact in public spaces. Voices stay low. Movement feels orderly. People bow. Personal space is respected.
I found this very beautiful. There is a respect for personal space that allows introverted people to exist alongside one another without pressure to interact.
But then I started to wonder about the other side of that design. Japan is often discussed as a country facing high levels of loneliness and social isolation. Introverted people may value quiet spaces, but that doesn’t necessarily mean they want to always be alone.
People still need community.
So when a society builds environments that make solitude so easy and comfortable, does it give people the freedom to recharge, or does it also systematically deepen the loneliness many people are already experiencing?
Coffee as Craft
One thing I genuinely loved was the coffee culture.
Tokyo has embraced third-wave coffee in a big way, and the attention to detail is remarkable. Small specialty cafés are scattered across the city, each one treating coffee almost like a craft.
Baristas weigh beans carefully, pour with precision, and serve drinks that feel closer to a ritual than a quick caffeine stop.
Some cafés are minimalist and serene. Others are tiny hidden spaces tucked into residential streets.
For someone who enjoys discovering local coffee scenes when traveling, Tokyo was incredible.
In a city that otherwise moves quickly and efficiently, these cafés felt like small pockets of intentional slowness.
(My only question here is how I’m going to use the delicious espresso beans I bought without owning an espresso machine.)
Listening Bars and the Performance of Cool
Tokyo is also famous for its listening bars. Small spaces dedicated to vinyl records, incredible sound systems, and the idea of experiencing music with intention.
I love the concept. I love cozy vinyl bars, where you can get lost in the sound by closing your eyes, and letting your head sway with the notes.
But one experience tainted that romantic idea that for me.
One night, I tried to visit a well-known listening bar called Martha. I set my expectations low - I already saw low ratings online from people have had bad experiences with the doorman.
When I arrived, there was a small line outside. After the group in front of me went in, I was waiting alone when an English-speaking couple pushed by in front of me through the door, even though I told them I was waiting in line.
The doorman didn’t intervene. In fact, he seemed impatient that I didn’t speak Japanese fluently, shooing me back outside. “We’re full.”
It wasn’t until a male friend joined me, someone who could pass for being Japanese, that suddenly the tone shifted and we were allowed to wait inside.
When I confronted the earlier couple, they excused themselves by saying they “just wanted to get in” to their bucket-list bar and excused their behaviour as a “miscommunication.”
The whole experience felt strange. Listening bars are supposed to be soulful spaces built around music appreciation. But in that moment, the environment felt less about music, and more about exclusivity and the performance of cool with a pretentious crowd. (I know, it was just two people, but still).
I was ecstatic to find that the next listening bar we went to was cozier, sexier, had kinder hospitality, and was much more my vibe.
The experience made me question my own choices of spaces I visit - which spaces actually curate great experiences, and which ones are places that people go to just to be “seen”?
“Fūzoku,” Gender, and Power Dynamics
Another aspect of Tokyo that was difficult to ignore was how visible parts of the adult entertainment industry were. I later learned that many of these spaces fall under the umbrella term “fūzoku.”
Walking through the streets at night, I saw women standing outside buildings greeting people as they entered. They were beautifully dressed in silky dresses, waving and inviting guests in. At first I assumed there must be weddings or birthday parties happening.
But then I noticed more women in front of different buildings and only men, again in their dark suits, going in as visitors. After checking Google Maps, I realized many of these places were hostess clubs or other venues connected to the adult entertainment industry.
Sex work exists everywhere in the world, and people enter it for many different reasons. This is not a critique on sex work itself, and I’m not against it. What was interesting about Japan’s adult industry was how visible it was even outside of their “red district.” There was also a very specific version of femininity performed: cute, soft-spoken, attentive, fragile, almost like an infantilization of women which I believe reinforces male dominance and authority.
That aesthetic also appears frequently in anime and pop culture, where female characters are often exaggerated in ways that emphasize vulnerability or hyper-sexualized features.
I learned through a quick search online that fūzoku has existed in Japan for centuries, with a long history that includes trafficking and sex slavery. While prostitution has technically been banned, a number of legal loopholes allow many related services to operate in a grey area, and there are often no judicial penalties for providing or receiving certain types of sexual services.
Entertaining clients and coworkers in nightlife venues has also traditionally been part of corporate culture, functioning almost like a status ritual.
(If anyone is interested in learning about the different types of Fuzoku, here was a Reddit post I found. If you’re interested in an more academic reading, this is an article that dissects this theme from another angle: “The Costs of Lolicon: Japan’s Pedophilia Trade.”)
Japan is one of the most technologically advanced societies in the world. Bullet trains, robotics, automation, and precision engineering shape daily life. Yet alongside that future-facing innovation are social structures that sometimes feel rooted in much older hierarchies.
How do societies begin to shift gender dynamics that have been culturally embedded for centuries?
Why do some societies choose transparency and regulation, while others keep the same industries (ie. the sex industry) operating in legal grey zones?
Leaving With Questions
By the end of the week, I realized my reaction to Tokyo wasn’t simple admiration or dislike.
There is so much about Japan that I love. The craftsmanship. The quiet respect people show one another in shared spaces. The care that goes into even the smallest details. The food.
But there were also many moments that made me pause. I’m not an expert in Japan, and these were some of the questions I was left with.
Travel doesn’t always leave you with answers.
Sometimes it simply changes the questions you ask.
And Japan, more than most places I’ve visited, did exactly that.
Have you been to Japan? Would love to hear your thoughts.