For Part III of our Japan dispatch, Tatiana went even further off the beaten path. You can read her notes form her time on the Kumano Kodo Here.
However for this portion, she went south, to the Japan she once knew, as Tatiana put it. This is Unzen and Aso, the Japan nobody ever sees. This is #bigfivin.
“Japan remains one of the most visited places in the world, and for good reason. It offers an extraordinary blend of food, culture, history, nature, temples, and safety. Yet all of this beauty comes with a price: the most iconic destinations like Tokyo, Kyoto, Osaka, and Hakone are now overwhelmingly crowded. Rivers of people flow through every site, every train, every street, not only locals, but Western travelers and visitors from all across Asia. At times, it feels as if the magic is being swallowed by the sheer volume of tourism.
Last month, during yet another visit to Japan, I found myself longing for the Japan I once knew, the quiet moments, the gentle encounters, the feeling of being a foreigner in a place where everything felt new and special. And then, unexpectedly, I discovered that Japan again.
I traveled to Unzen, in Nagasaki Prefecture, and Aso, in Kumamoto, both in the Kyushu region. Nagasaki often carries a heavy place in the world’s memory, but few people know the hidden gem that lies beyond that history: a land of hot springs, active volcanoes, and a deep, unpolished authenticity. You know you have stepped off the beaten path when you realize you are the only Western-looking person on the plane.
In Unzen, the volcano has long been revered as a protective deity, a source of healing hot springs, fertile soil, and rich tradition. It was Japan’s first designated national park, and its lush nature still draws those seeking peace. Here, I met a group of young entrepreneurs and professionals who had left their high-powered lives in Tokyo in search of something quieter. They now live from the land, cultivating strawberries, plums, pears, and grapes. They traded the skyline of concrete towers for the ocean, the forest, and the tranquility of a life in the country.
What touched me most were the countless conversations I shared with locals, despite the fact that I don’t speak Japanese and they didn’t speak English. They were humble, regal in their simplicity, balanced, respectful. We spoke with our hands, our eyes, our gestures, and our smiles. Because they are not overwhelmed by foreign visitors, they were genuinely curious about me. They wanted to connect. They even wanted to take photos together.
I remember walking toward the Temple of Eyesight, where locals come to pray for better vision. At the top, I met Morah, a local farmer who volunteers to keep the temple clean. He offered me oranges and potatoes for our dinner, a gesture so pure and generous it stayed with me. That evening, we used his potatoes at a small traditional eatery beside the Unzen Jigoku steaming vents. The restaurant cooks everything using the natural geothermal steam rising from the volcanic ground, a method that has shaped Unzen’s culinary culture for generations. Food is steamed at around 100°C, preserving moisture and enhancing natural sweetness. No oil, no heavy seasoning, just clean, honest flavors from a region rich in organic farms.
Here, you can kayak at sunset on calm waters, then end your day lying on a tatami mat, watching the starry sky while wrapped in the warm embrace of the volcano.
After a short local ferry ride, I arrived in Aso, home to one of the world’s largest volcanic calderas. You can stand at the edge of the Nakadake crater, visit rural villages like Teno nestled inside an ancient caldera, and wander through wide-open landscapes shaped by fire and time. This is a place made for cycling, hiking, and breathing deeply.
Agriculture is the heartbeat of Aso. Each year, farmers burn the fields to restore minerals to the soil, allowing new grasses to grow and feed the cattle, a continuous cycle of destruction and renewal, where nature is reborn again and again.
You can enjoy a private tasting of organic tea with a woman who harvests every leaf herself, creating delicate blends that reflect the land. And you can visit Aso-jinja, one of Japan’s oldest Shinto shrines, with nearly 2,000 years of history. It is dedicated to the Aso deity lineage, believed to protect and shape this volcanic world.
In these places, Unzen and Aso, I found the Japan I had been missing. A Japan of quiet beauty, genuine encounters, and landscapes that breathe with ancient life. Here, far from the crowds, Japan feels intimate again. Here is where the land, the people, and the traveler meet with open hearts.”
The Kumano Kodo is one of the most sacred walks in Japan, one that Big Five had to pause when Japan reopened after the borders post pandemic. We did so because there are only a few guides that are truly knowledgeable about the importance of this trail. My colleague Tatiana wrote what I think to be her best dispatch ever in this section. She had just lost her mom right before departing for this trip, and it was here that the true power of the Kumano Kodo was unveiled.
Enjoy.
“I embarked on this adventure to hike the Kumano Kodo with mixed feelings. Part of me was driven by my exploring spirit, always eager to see the world, while another part carried the weight of my mother’s recent passing. She was the one who taught me about the world and encouraged me to discover it. I grew up listening to her countless stories of traveling through Europe with her sister and aunt in the 1950’s, a time when going abroad was rare in Chile, where she was born. She remembered every detail, and her stories were so vivid that I never tired of hearing them or reliving them in my imagination. They sparked in me a desire to see those places with my own eyes. She opened a door to travel that I never want to close.
I can still hear my mother’s words: “Always take advantage of any opportunity to travel,” and “Let the money suffer,” she used to say, “because seeing the world will enrich you in so many ways. Every time you travel, you will change, your mind will expand, your acceptance and understanding of others will grow, and so will you.” She was absolutely right. Her advice is what led me to pursue a career in the travel industry, beginning with my first job as a guide in Ecuador. And last month, when I found myself doubting whether I should go to Japan, I could hear her voice encouraging me to go, reminding me that she would be with me.
The Kumano Kodo, together with the Camino de Santiago, is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. I walked the Camino eight years ago, so when the chance arose to experience the Kumano Kodo this year, I didn’t hesitate. At first, our planning was purely exploratory, as we wanted to re-introduce the hike into our programs since we stopped offering it after Covid. I had no idea that the purpose of this hike would shift so profoundly, drawing me into something far more personal.
For over 1,000 years, pilgrims have walked these mountains. The region’s sacred peaks were once seen as otherworldly, places connected to death, the afterlife, and spiritual renewal. People come here for many reasons: to seek rebirth, to deepen their awareness, to transform, or simply to be close to nature.
Every evening, we stayed in small onsens, sleeping on tatami mats on the floor. I was convinced my back wouldn’t survive several nights like that, but to my surprise, I didn’t have a single ache. I’m starting to think the Japanese are onto something with these tatami mats. One night, we stayed in an old temple where monks still practice and train. At dawn, we witnessed a fire ceremony led by the monks, burning small pieces of wood while praying for the well‑being of loved ones, their chanting echoing through the hall. I learned about the Shinto practice of worshipping mountains (as it is the home of the divine), the arrival of Buddhism in Japan from China and the fusion of both faiths.
Every day, I felt as if I were dining in a Michelin‑star restaurant, each meal somehow better than the last. The sashimi melted in my mouth, and the combinations of flavors and ingredients were constant, joyful surprises. I tried everything, sometimes with reluctancy, and now I find myself longing for it all. Meals arrived on multiple tiny plates, offering a different texture and taste: lightly seasoned vegetables, fish, sweet fish, cucumbers, pickles, rice, seaweed, tofu, miso soup, all perfectly balanced and proportioned. Nothing was heavy, everything felt just right. We even visited a fish market in Ise, where people from across Japan come in the morning for fresh sashimi, and much of the tuna sold in Tokyo’s famous fish market comes from there.
Along the way, we visited many shrines and temples, but three sacred sites left the deepest impression:
This seven‑day, forty‑mile hike took us through cedar and cypress forests. Some days were easier, with flat stretches, others required tough ascents and careful descents. Most days we enjoyed beautiful sunlight, but we also proved our endurance through rain, and at times heavy rain. Along the trail, we found many Jizō statues, placed to guide and safeguard hikers. They remind you that you are not walking alone, and I definitely wasn’t. The moment I needed a push, there was a Jizō blessing my journey.
One day, we passed an area with fourteen stone poem monuments erected about thirty years ago by the Kumanogawa villagers. The poems are a mixture of old and new, multilayered in meaning, and difficult to translate because of their nuances. Our guide chose one poem to translate. No one knew about my recent loss, yet when I heard it, it felt like a vivid message from my mother. It read: “My deceased mother reminds me: every step on Kumotori is a walk for the repose of the dead.”
It means that your walk on Kumano is not just a hike, it is a sacred act, a way of honoring the dead, especially your mother. I knew in that moment that these words were meant for me, and that taking this hike was no coincidence. I needed it, and it arrived in my life with a kind of quiet precision, at exactly the right time. Every step became a personal prayer for me, and every breath helped me cherish many memories of my mother and me. The trail ended, but the conversation with my mother continues in every step I take from here.”
Since 2003, my team and I have repeatedly visited Japan with one goal. How to get beyond the typical Tokyo, Hakone, Kyoto circuit. That move was amplified during the pandemic as it led to the current guide shortage that causes stop sells regularly in Japan. Well, what better way to understand the new class of guides entering Japan then by sending a former guide back to Japan, to see things from a different perspective. My colleague Tatiana started in Kyoto and Osaka, skipping the tourism center of Tokyo and Hakone on purpose. This is the first of a three-part dispatch sharing her observations.
Stay tuned and enjoy the video.
Japan is now in everyone’s conversations and on everyone’s list of favorite places to visit. Each traveler has a different reason for going: food, temples, safety, culture, nature, or simply the feeling of being somewhere beautifully different.
I visited Japan last month to meet with our guide team, walked the Kumano Kodo pilgrimage trail, and discovered new and unique areas beyond the traditional triangle of Tokyo, Kyoto/Osaka, and Hakone.
Today, I would like to talk about Japanese culture and some of the guides who impressed me. I will share the other two topics in the next dispatches.
As a former guide myself, I believe the role of a guide is crucial. A guide can shape not only your trip, but also how you perceive the country you’re visiting. No matter how much you prepare for your trip, how many books you read, how many people you talk to, how many videos you watch before, your experience in a country will always be uniquely yours. How you perceive the people, what you notice, and what you carry home in your memories and in your heart will be yours alone.
There is never just one perception, one opinion, or one way to tell a story. And we must also consider ourselves: what we bring into a country, how we interact with locals, how open we are to the moment.
Japanese people, in general, are very polite. They use gentle, respectful language, speak in soft tones, and choose their words carefully. Respect is a core cultural value, and you see it immediately in the way they bow. They are quiet, mindful of personal space, and deeply considerate.
I met many guides, but these wonderful women made a lasting impact on me. In Japanese culture, there is a phrase: “one time, one meeting” (ichigo ichie). Ichigo ichie is the idea that every encounter, even a brief one, is unique and will never happen in the same way again. This is exactly what I felt with every person I met. I will carry ichigo ichie with me because it invites us to treat the present as something precious, not casual. It asks us to leave behind the preconceptions we often carry. It’s an invitation to slow down and give your full attention to the person in front of you. Presence becomes a form of respect. It becomes sacred. These small interactions transform the everyday into something meaningful. And the people who share those moments with you, even briefly, help shape your story.
I walked the streets of Kyoto with Fumiyo, a retired schoolteacher and grandmother, who shared Japan’s culture and history intertwined with stories of her childhood. She grew up in a world shaped by post‑war rebuilding, traditional village life, and the beginnings of modern Japan, a childhood very different from what we see today. She told me about running through rice fields, catching beetles, playing hide‑and‑seek in bamboo groves, and swimming in rivers. She lived in a small wooden house, slept on tatami mats, and taught me the beauty of minimalism. She grew up with a strong sense of hope. She learned to prepare miso soup, pickles, rice, and grilled fish from her mother, and she still eats the same breakfast every day. She grew up listening to the radio, long before television arrived, and she loved hearing her grandmother’s stories. It’s no surprise she inherited her storytelling skills.
She also spoke about wa (harmony) and how important it has been in her life. Harmony is the idea that life works best when people move gently with one another, with respect and balance, another foundation of Japanese culture.
And wa brings me to my encounter with Katherine, a young American woman who fell in love with Japanese culture during her university days in New Mexico. After taking two semesters of Japanese, she decided to leave her life in the U.S. and move to Japan ten years ago, a quietly transformative experience she is still living. Her life has been shaped by curiosity, courage, and a deep love for place, just as harmony teaches.
Coming from New Mexico, she grew up with big skies and open landscapes. In Kyoto, she found a different kind of wilderness: cedar forests, mountain temples, and narrow trails lined with stone statues. We hiked the old samurai trail (near Nara), the path warriors once took to visit the town where swords were made. Another gifted storyteller, she transported me to that era with every step. She shared her struggles and successes with Japanese and with keigo (the respectful language). But every day she improves, because every new word she learns opens another door into the culture she loves so much.
Being close to nature with her, she taught me about yūgen, a profound, mysterious sense of beauty, not the beauty you see, but the beauty you feel, for instance, the moon behind clouds, distant mountains, a quiet temple at dusk. It’s the emotion that lives in the unseen.
Then, there was Migen, a woman in her 40’s who traveled the world and chose to settle in a small town outside Kyoto because the city taught her to listen to silence, to see what your eyes can’t, and to slow down. She told me that in all the other countries she visited, she never understood yūgen, not until she walked through the narrow alleys in Kyoto at sunrise, when the day is just beginning, or when she looked closely at the delicate craftsmanship of a temple roof. She felt moved but couldn’t explain why. Kyoto was the first place where her heart finally unclenched. It was there that she met an older Japanese woman by chance in a tea shop. She was drawn to her kindness and quiet strength and soon realized this was the mother she didn’t know she needed. Her Japanese mother became her anchor. Their bond was also yūgen, not loud affection, but a quiet, profound connection.
Throughout my time in Japan, I felt a wholehearted hospitality what the Japanese call omotenashi, serving others with sincerity, without expecting anything in return. It’s why Japanese service feels so warm and effortless.
I am bowing to you.
May 16 took on a different meaning for me in 2004. Until then, it was simply my father’s birthday. But that year, it became something more, something lasting. It became a tradition rooted in the values of our founder, a man whose life was guided by a single, unwavering purpose: to serve others without expectation.
What began as a personal moment has grown into a collective one. Each year on this day, we organize a movement across the many destinations we call home—a coming together of our teams, our partners, and our extended community. Last year, on what we now call Mahen’s Day of Service, we helped feed more than 2,000 people in just three hours, across 10 countries. It was powerful not because of the numbers, but because of what it represented: shared intention, shared action, and a reminder that impact doesn’t have to be complicated, it just has to begin.
This year, our focus turns to something deeply needed and often quietly carried—children’s mental health.
We are proud to be spending the day with Tykes & Teens Children’s Mental Health in Stuart, Florida, an organization doing vital, hands-on work for young people in our community. For over three decades, they have provided affordable, high-quality behavioral and mental health services for infants, children, and adolescents across Florida’s Treasure Coast. Their approach is rooted in trauma-informed care, meeting each child where they are, regardless of a family’s ability to pay. It’s the kind of work that changes lives in ways you don’t always see, but always feel.
Beyond Florida, this effort reached far and wide. Teams in 12 countries committed to supporting projects within their own communities, all centered on youth mental health. Different places, different approaches, but one common thread: showing up when it matters. Mahen always said, “You cannot clap with one hand.”
While 12 countries joined us on May 16, the truth is this was never about a single day. The opportunity to serve isn’t confined to a date on the calendar.
I encourage you to explore the Tykes and Teens website to see their mission in action, or donate browse their Amazon Wishlist to see how you can make a difference.
We invite you to be part of it, wherever you are. Find a children’s mental health cause near you. Give your time. Lend your voice.
Show up in whatever way you can, today or any day.
