Japan: Two Visits, One Eel, and a Hard Hat

Japan has a way of making even a short visit feel meaningful. I have been twice, once during a 10-hour layover in May 2016, and again for a work trip in March 2018. Both visits were brief, but each left a very different impression: one rooted in tradition, temples, and the freshest eel I will probably ever eat, the other in modern Tokyo, business meetings, sashimi, and a very practical lesson in earthquake preparedness.

My first visit to Japan was not supposed to be much of a visit at all. It was a 10-hour layover through Narita Airport. Rather than sitting in the terminal watching the clock, I joined a local volunteer-guided walk into downtown Narita. The guides were retired Japanese locals, generous with their time, proud of their city, and happy to help travelers turn a layover into something memorable.

Narita was the perfect introduction to Japan: quiet streets, traditional storefronts, temple grounds, ornate architecture, and a pace that felt calm after a long international flight.

The walk led to Naritasan Shinshoji Temple, a beautiful Buddhist temple complex with a large gate, an ornate pagoda, stone paths, bridges, and peaceful grounds. Even with limited time, it felt like stepping into a deeper layer of Japanese history and culture.

The temple grounds were full of small details that made the visit feel special: a quiet bridge, carved stone markers, carefully shaped greenery, and traditional buildings that seemed to reward slowing down and paying attention.

One of the most interesting stops was Shaka-do Hall, marked as an important cultural property. It added another layer to the visit, reminding me that even a layover can still include real history.

What I remember most, though, was the food.

At the time, I was not yet a huge sushi fan. I liked it, but I was not exactly ordering chef's choice and nodding like I knew what I was doing. My guides suggested eel and asked, do you like fresh eel, it is cooked.

I said sure.

That was when someone reached into a bucket, pulled out a live eel, cut off the head and tail, filleted it, cooked it, flipped it, sauced it, and served it.

That is fresh. Possibly too fresh for eye contact.

But it was also amazing. I walked in as a casual sushi observer and walked out with a newfound love for eel and eel sauce. It was one of those travel moments where you say yes before fully understanding the question, and somehow end up with a great story.

Narita is also known for shops selling eel, fish, and other local specialties, which made the whole experience feel less like a novelty and more like a window into a local food tradition.

Before heading back to the airport, I also picked up authentic Japanese chopsticks, which felt like the perfect souvenir from a short visit that somehow managed to include temples, history, local guides, and a meal I still talk about years later.

My second visit came in March 2018, this time for work in Tokyo. The city felt completely different from Narita: modern buildings, bright streets, clean lines, business meetings, and the unmistakable energy of one of the world's great cities.

By this trip, I had a much better appreciation for sushi and sashimi. Japan has a way of raising your food standards quietly and permanently. After eating fish there, pretty good sushi back home suddenly feels like it is doing its best, and we should all be supportive.

But the most memorable part of that work trip happened in a conference room. Before the meeting began, we were briefed on what to do if there was an earthquake. The instructions included procedures for leaving the room safely and, most memorably, how to put on the hard hat hanging on the wall.

That moment stuck with me. It was practical, calm, and matter-of-fact. No panic, no drama, just preparation. In a country where earthquakes are part of life, even a business meeting comes with a quiet reminder that nature is always in the room.

Japan left me with two very different memories: one of a temple town, retired local guides, and an eel that went from bucket to plate with remarkable speed, the other of Tokyo's modern skyline, excellent food, and a conference room hard hat that said more about preparedness than any brochure could.

Across both trips, what stood out most was the culture itself. The friendliness, the respect, the order, the attention to detail, and the pride people seemed to take in doing things well.

Japan is a place where a layover can become a story, a work trip can become a lesson, and a meal can permanently change your relationship with eel sauce.