An Ode to Rural Japan

Postcards from Asia, Part 14

Ashleigh at Travel Bugg

Feb 25, 2025

Dear friends,

Tokyo, Kyoto, and Osaka get all the love, fame, and tourist hype.

But, the real magic is in small-town rural Japan.

I went to Hadano, a place even some Japanese people can’t find on a map, and it was my favorite spot in the country.

I hadn’t planned to go to Hadano. I had looked into day trips from Tokyo to Hakone, Nikko, and Kamakura. I settled on Yokohama, a port city close to Tokyo and home of the Ramen Museum. I searched to see if there were other Couchsurfers in the region and messaged Mew, a local with stellar references and asked if he’d like to meet up.

Cup O’ Noodles Ramen Museum in Yokohama, Japan

Mew said he would, but he warned me he lived about an hour away from Yokohama in Hadano. I was welcome to stay with him and his family for a couple days before New Year’s Eve, but Hadano wasn’t a tourist hotspot.

I didn’t know anything about the town, but after a quick online search, I saw the area had hiking trails, even a forest therapy path, and decided to give it a go.

I took a train to Yokohama with my French friend Lara, checked out the Cup O’ Noodles Ramen Museum and a light show by Yokohama’s harbor, and then met Mew at the train station to head to Hadano.

On the train, I shared with Mew that it had been my dream to see Fujisan, but it was obscured by clouds when I rode the Shinkansen from Kyoto, and I missed it.

“Oh, you can practically see it from our house,” Mew said casually. On the map of the area, there was even a Fuji lookout point.

The next morning, while Mew went on a run for his marathon training, I decided to hike around Hadano and try to see Mount Fuji.

Walking across the town alone, I looked at the way the houses were arranged clean and orderly, with plants and small gardens. In the center of the shopping street, speakers played cheerful tunes. A tiny recording studio selling vintage records stood on one corner and local clothing shops on the other.

I kept walking until I came to a Lawson’s on the outskirts of town, bought a coffee, salt bread, and some snacks and then headed toward the Fujisan lookout point.

I climbed higher up the winding, rural roads, keeping an eye out for cars, when I saw the bench that looked out over the entire town and river.

There, I saw it.

It was the clearest of days, and Fujisan was unobstructed by clouds or tourists: just me and the mountain on a warm winter morning.

I felt unexpected tears as I wrote in my journal:

“Emotional moment seeing Fujisan rising above the small town of Hadano in rural Japan.

It made living seem worthwhile again. It felt good to feel the sun and see the mountain, clear and snow-capped.

Maybe this is why I travel, for moments like this.”

I spent the rest of the day hiking the small mountains around Hadano, creeping on Fujisan, and taking photos of it from every angle I could get.

I ate my snacks in the sunshine and smiled at families as they picnicked on the side of Mount Kobo.

Mew texted me to see how I was doing, and I told him I had found a small bird sanctuary on the mountain. “I’m birdwatching with some old men, I love it here.” I texted back.

That night, Mew and his mom, who is Japanese and his dad, who is Korean, invited me to eat Korean barbecue at their restaurant in town. The food was incredible, and we watched Korean singing competitions, and I told them about my trip to Korea a month earlier while his dad explained more about the country’s history.

Sharing Korean barbecue with Mew at his family’s restaurant

My last morning, Mew had to go to work early so I had breakfast with his mom (who speaks excellent English) as she told me about the history of Yokohama with the help of a history book and translator app.

Hanging out with Mew’s mom before heading back to Tokyo

Before heading back to Tokyo, I walked to Lake Shinseiko, a lake that was formed after an earthquake shook the town, where I made a wish at a small shrine and ate onigiri next to the water.