Tokyo is a city I had dreamed about for years — neon streets, ancient temples, food stalls glowing at midnight. But instead of booking a hotel, I chose something different: a seven-day homestay with a local family. What followed wasn’t just a vacation — it was one of the most meaningful travel experiences I’ve ever had.
Here’s how my week unfolded.
Day 1: Arriving Home, Not Just in Japan
My homestay was in Kawagoe, a suburb of Tokyo far from the tourist crowds. My host, Mrs. Tanaka (Okāsan), welcomed me with a bow and a warm smile, showing me to a simple tatami room with a futon and low table. That evening, we shared grilled fish, miso soup, and rice while exchanging stories in a mix of English and beginner Japanese.
It didn’t feel like checking into accommodation — it felt like being invited into someone’s home.
Day 2: Shinjuku — Skyscrapers by Day, Kabukicho by Night
I spent the day exploring Shinjuku, wandering from towering skyscrapers to the peaceful paths of Shinjuku Gyoen National Garden. As night fell, I headed into Kabukicho, Tokyo’s famous entertainment district, where neon signs stacked sky-high and the streets pulsed with energy. Despite its reputation, the area felt vibrant and surprisingly friendly, filled with arcades, karaoke bars, and late-night ramen shops glowing under electric lights.
Back at my homestay, tea and mochi were waiting on the table — a small gesture that somehow felt unforgettable.
Day 3: Old Town Charm in Shibamata
Instead of heading downtown, I traveled by train to Shibamata, a nostalgic Tokyo suburb that felt worlds away from skyscrapers. The approach to Taishakuten Temple was lined with traditional snack shops selling senbei rice crackers and dango skewers, their scents drifting through the damp rainy sky. Locals strolled slowly, greeting shopkeepers by name, and the pace of life felt refreshingly gentle.
That evening, Tanaka-san helped me practice Japanese phrases over green tea. “Trying is enough,” he said — and I believed him.
Day 4: Kawaguchiko and Mount Fuji Magic
I left Tokyo before sunrise for Kawaguchiko, and by late morning, the clouds cleared to reveal Mount Fuji in all its perfect symmetry.
I rented a bicycle and rode around Lake Kawaguchi, stopping constantly to admire Fuji’s reflection shimmering across the water. After taking the ropeway up for panoramic views, I ended the day at the infamous Lawson watching the mountain glow pink and lavender at sunset — easily one of the most peaceful moments of my trip.
Day 5: Hachiko, Shibuya Crossing, and Go-Karting Through Tokyo
Back in Tokyo, I started the day at Shibuya Station, where I visited the iconic statue of Hachiko, the loyal dog who waited years for his owner’s return. From there, I stepped into the chaos of Shibuya Crossing, watching thousands of people surge across the intersection in perfect rhythm.
Then came one of the wildest experiences of the trip — driving go-karts on Tokyo’s public roads, dressed in costume and cruising past skyscrapers, traffic lights, and stunned pedestrians. It felt surreal, exhilarating, and completely unforgettable.
That night, my hosts taught me how to make okonomiyaki. Mine fell apart. Everyone laughed. It still tasted perfect.
Day 6: Finding Magic in the Ordinary
My favorite day turned out to be the quietest. I followed Okāsan to the neighborhood market, learned the names of vegetables, and helped choose strawberries for dinner. I spent the afternoon writing postcards while cicadas buzzed outside the window, then watched TV dramas with the family — understanding only half the dialogue, but all the warmth.
Travel, I realized, isn’t only about famous sights — it’s about shared moments and lasting impressions.
Day 7: Goodbye, But Not Really
On my last morning, Okāsan packed me a bento box for the airport and Tanaka-san gave me a small origami crane “for safe travels.” I bowed my practiced bow lower than I ever had done before to show my deepest appreciation to them for hosting me.
As the train carried me away, Tokyo blurred past — temples and towers, rivers and alleyways, crowds and quiet homes. But what stayed with me most wasn’t Kabukicho’s neon, Mount Fuji’s perfect silhouette, or even go-karting through Shibuya.
It was the sound of curious questions and muffled laughter at dinner.
The warmth of tea poured without asking.
And the feeling of belonging, even briefly, in a place far from home.
The writer is a Malaysian student who went on a homestay in Japan.