As a photographer visiting Tokyo for the first time, everything felt new, intoxicatingly so. I arrived from Australia with no real itinerary, just two weeks, a camera, and a willingness to lose myself in the rhythm of a city I'd only seen in photos. What followed was a whirlwind of light, motion, flavour, and emotion, none more vivid than one particular night spent wandering Shinjuku and Shibuya.
One evening, I teamed up with another photographer I met through a local online group. We dove into the electric pulse of Shinjuku, where neon signs towered above us like glowing totems and the sound of life never stopped bouncing off the concrete walls. We weaved through alleys, snapping shots of hidden izakayas, passing local salarymen on their way to late night meals, and soaking up the surreal stillness that somehow lives alongside the chaos in this part of town.
Later that night, we made our way to Shibuya. The famous scramble crossing was exactly as overwhelming and cinematic as I'd hoped. I watched waves of people move in all directions, yet somehow avoid collisions like a perfectly choreographed dance. The line to see the Hachiko statue wrapped around the plaza, packed with tourists all wanting their moment beside the famously loyal dog. I noticed that parts of the statue's brass had worn shiny from constant touching, a quiet, almost poetic sign of collective admiration.
Of course, the food. How could I not mention the food? I was stunned by the quality and variety packed into every 7-Eleven. Forget the basic convenience store sandwiches I was used to; these were full meals, beautifully prepared and packed with flavour. From onigiri to karaage to sweet mochi, I found myself looking forward to these simple, satisfying pit stops.
Navigating the city was a challenge at first, especially with the language barrier. Each neighbourhood felt like a new world, each train line an adventure of its own. Yet, Tokyo's public transport system was unlike anything I'd ever experienced: efficient, punctual, clean, and surprisingly intuitive once you got the hang of it. Getting around became part of the fun, part of the rhythm of city life that I fell into with ease.
But not all of the experience was perfect. One thing that really took me out of the magic at times was seeing how some tourists, particularly from North America, disregarded local customs and etiquette. Whether it was loud conversations in quiet trains, filming locals without consent, or treating spaces with a lack of care, it was disheartening. Japan has a beautiful culture built on respect and consideration, and watching that be overlooked so carelessly was a real contrast to the warmth and politeness I experienced from locals every day.
Despite that, what stays with me most are the people I met, some through photography, others by chance, who turned this massive, complex city into something personal and memorable. Even with the language barrier, moments of kindness, laughter, and connection broke through.
Tokyo, for me, was more than just a destination. It was a reminder of how much you can feel in a place you've never been before. It taught me how to be a better traveller, a more mindful photographer, and a more present human being. And I know this: I'll be back with more film, more curiosity, and an even deeper respect for the city that lit up my lens and my heart.
