You’ve seen many stunning sights of Japan, but have you ever wondered what it’s like to go deeper? To feel less like a tourist and more like a participant in the rhythm of the culture? The truth is, while traveling often means checking off a list of famous landmarks, it’s the human connections that leave the most lasting memories.
Many of my best memories of Osaka are because of the Nakamura family, who once opened their home and attic room to me. The year-long homestay living with them before Mika and I got married taught me that connection can look quiet and ordinary. It might be evening conversations around a simple dinner or the way a noisy city fades into the background inside the kindness of a home.
That memory stayed with me as I entered the bustling World Expo 2025 in Osaka this summer. I had originally planned to go with my wife, Mika, but a thunderstorm and shifting schedules meant I ended up going alone. It was a scorching August day in Japan’s hottest ever recorded summer, and I felt a little lost walking into a sea of people. With the crowds weaving in and out of the two-kilometer wooden ring structure, the largest in the world, making their way to pavilion after pavilion, it was overwhelming.
Even in the chaos, the desire for connection remained. My legs were already starting to ache, and my mind was buzzing with all the exhibits I wanted to see, but I found myself slowing down and looking for a moment of quiet. That’s when I found it. At the Indonesia pavilion, I bought some food and searched for a place to sit. Every table was full. A family of three noticed me hovering and offered me their spare chair. They looked nervous at first, worried about speaking English, but our conversation in Japanese quickly put us at ease. For a moment, the noise of the Expo disappeared, and that small table felt like the Nakamura dining room again. Connection came through food and kindness.
I ended that day with aching legs and two blisters on my feet, but with a full heart. I’d visited around forty exhibits, from Saudi Arabia’s innovative displays explained in beautiful Japanese by the Saudi presenters, to the many other displays from countries in Africa and South America. So many of these exhibits brought back memories of students who’ve touched my life and shared their cultures with me.
The next day, I bandaged my blisters and pushed on. And it happened again. When I stopped for lunch, two people offered me their extra chair at a crowded dining table. They turned out to be university administrators from Osaka, and we had so much in common. Our conversation was a gift, a connection that only happened because they reached out.
Your next trip to Japan can be more than just a list of places to see. It can be a series of moments where you create your own lasting connections. The beautiful part of travel is that it hands us a mixture of joy and sadness, the joy of new discoveries and the sadness for passing time. That’s what I felt when I drove back to the neighborhood where I lived with the Nakamura family. The mailbox had a different name. The kind neighbor who had moved in told me Mr. Nakamura had passed away and Mrs. Nakamura was likely in a nursing home. Despite my sadness, I felt a wave of gratitude for the time they had given me, and for the lesson that even in a bustling city, connection is possible.
The Expo reminded me that people are proud of where they come from and eager to share it. Borders and politics can separate us, but food, stories, and shared tables bring us together again. My hope for you is that you’ll have the courage to find your own moments of connection in Japan and see beyond the famous sights to discover the human heart of the country.
