Shaped like an arrow pointed towards Japan’s mainland, Amami-Oshima is an island placed roughly halfway between Kyushu and the country’s seaside playground, Okinawa. But while dozens of airliners descend towards Naha airport every day, only a couple of 737s link Amami with Tokyo. Why that’s the case is, much like the reason why a North Korean spy vessel decided to stage a battle in the waters out here, a mystery we won’t be able to solve.

Close your eyes and think of Tokyo. What do you see? Perhaps it’s seas of people at that Shibuya crossing. Or maybe it’s fast trains gliding through a man-made canyon land of neon lights. Glitz and glamour, hustle and bustle, the lot. 

All of that exists and, if that’s what you seek, you will find it aplenty in the world’s largest megalopolis. But the Tokyo that I’m drawn to, the one that lures me back time and again, is different. Quiet and ethereal, modern and ancient, I don’t even need to employ the trite “off the beaten path” trope to see it. Because it’s everywhere.

What follows is a long post, for it’s not a single story. It’s a collection of postcards. Enjoy.

A bikepacking trip in Slovenia with an old friend. Pedal further.

An afternoon in Tokyo, Japan, unshackled by any commitment.

There are four stages in culture shock: honeymoon, frustration, adaptation, and acceptance. Reaching the last one in Japan took me the best part of a decade.

The Ryukyus are a chain of tropical islands to the south of Japan. Think of clear blue waters, white sands, and discovery.