After visiting Japan for the first time in November 2025, I came to agree with that sentiment to a certain extent. Maybe it's because of my perspective as a westerner, unfamiliar with the aesthetics and culture of Japan, but there is certainly a charm to Japanese cities, villages, temples, parks, and all.

But does that guarantee great photos everywhere you point your camera?

Walking around Japan on my first night and the following day in there, I sometimes felt apprehensive that it seemed harder to find the right angles than what I was led to believe was possible. Things that seemed to work in my mind didn't look good on the camera back, and the inverse was not often true either. I wasn't really stressed about it, per se, but that thought kept nagging me after every photo I took.

However, I quickly took control of that feeling and reminded myself that I wasn't in Japan to take photos primarily, and that although I enjoy taking photos, I'm there to travel and have new experiences. And what happened on the following days was a complete inversion of that feeling.

I found that by focusing primarily on being where I am, invested emotionally and mentally in the moment, I was more readily able to identify nice photo opportunities. Armed with that new, clear mindset, I set out to be more spontaneous with my street photography. Experiment more, think less; then learn from my unexpected hits as well as my mistakes.

Oh and there were the birds, too.

I seriously considered not taking my telephoto lenses to Japan, but I knew I would regret that immensely as soon as I saw my first Japanese bird in the wild. And Japan did not disappoint; I spotted several birds, including the Common Kingfisher, which was a bird I had been wanting to photograph for literally years – they exist in BC with a different coloration, but they're not easy to spot in here either.

Bird photography is a genre I'm much more familiar with than street photography, and being able to switch between the two was a good reminder for me that all photography is about the skill and taste you build with time and experience, and that there was nothing wrong with me. I'm just not as good a street photographer, exactly because I've done less of it.

I then started to feel more in tune with the ambient around me. And that allowed me to explore my street photography senses better. Since I wasn't so concerned about getting the right angles, I was more responsive to serendipity.

I then left Tokyo for Osaka. I was excited to see Mount Fuji from the Shinkansen, and no amount of reading about it could have prepared me for that sight. Japan is covered in beautiful rolling hills and mountains, which have shapes similar to the ones in BC which I've become accustomed to, and so to see that perfect conical volcano in the distance, shrouded in puffy clouds, was breathtaking. It's no wonder that mountain has been revered by Japanese artists and culture for so long.

This was also an opportunity for some more technical learning about my kit: In post it became clear how much vignetting my Nikkor Z 24-70mm ƒ/4 lens produces wide-open. I had to spend a lot of time coming up with a good mask to correct for it, as the vignetting controls in Lightroom were insufficient to deal with it completely. I'm not convinced my corrections are perfect, and I admit that in some pictures it kind of works, but in the Mt Fuji ones it really detracted from the composition. I'm now aiming to not shoot that lens wide-open unless necessary.

Another technical point: The Shinkansen moves fast enough that the rolling-shutter effect – present when using the electronic shutter on my Z6III – was significant enough to distort subjects quite a distance away from the train. I was concerned that using the mechanical shutter would disturb other passengers on the quiet carriage, and so I switched to front-curtain electronic-shutter mode (which mixes both electronic and mechanical shutters, and is slightly quieter). However, that didn't completely avoid the rolling shutter effect, and so my photos still have a bit of a vertical skew.

However, in some cases, if things align just right, you can get nice compositions which really capture the mood of being inside a high-speed train:

While Tokyo is predominantly a big modern metropolis, Osaka was a nice mix of modern and historic architecture – Although it is important to know that some landmarks like Osaka Castle were destroyed in World War II and then reconstructed with modern materials. I enjoy trying to portray the overlap between old and new where it exists, and I think the Osaka Castle and its moat, surrounded by modern buildings, let me exercise that well.

Another genre I wanted to explore was the wide+tele sets of compositions, where a wide shot of a subject is presented next to close-ups of details of the subject, giving the viewer a more complete appreciation of the subject.

Osaka also has plenty of large-scale infrastructure that's fun to photograph, both from up close as well as on a wide shot.

Another fun subject to explore was the Umeda Sky Towers with their ocular Sky Walk terrace which spans the two towers at their top, forming a single structure that seems out of this world. As you walk the streets nearby, it's hard to miss this colossal building in the distance. It really made me want to capture the somewhat eerie feeling of observing such a large structure while surrounded by much smaller ones.

For almost the entire time I was in Japan, the weather was clear and sunny, and I got to witness some spectacular sunsets. Unfortunately, timing wasn't always great for me to get good city shots during golden hour in Tokyo. I had a bit better luck in Osaka, especially from my hotel. In these shots, I experimented with hyperfocal distance, and I'm very satisfied with the outcome.

I then departed for Kyoto. I had been told it is a charming city, but nothing could have prepared me for how charming it really is. Whereas Tokyo and Osaka feel like the large-scale metropolises that they are, Kyoto felt like a much more human-scaled place. Narrow and well-arborized streets, low buildings, plenty of parks, large and small. It almost felt like a carefully curated experience. I immediately fell in love with that place, and was so enamoured by its charm that I walked several streets without ever considering taking photos. So you will have to forgive me for not being able to demonstrate it as well as I wish I could. I'll make sure to do a better job when I next visit Kyoto.

At Kyoto Gyoen I was able to do a lot of studies in landscape photography, as its many trees dressed in autumn colours and wide pathways allowed for a lot of exploration and planning around the subjects. This was a good place to exercise the "small adjustments" muscle, where you study each photo you take for hints of what to tweak in your composition. The lighting was also often great, especially during golden hour.

Another magnificent place in Kyoto is Kiyomizu-dera, a Buddhist temple atop the hills east of Kyoto. The lush vegetation, dressed in beautiful autumn tones, not only contrasts but also complements the beautiful temple pagodas, Niomon, and other structures, all beautifully painted in bright reds and oranges.

I especially like that last photo on the right. The idea for that photo came spontaneously to me as I walked along the path down from the main shrine, but the pathway was crowded, and I had to wait a few minutes to get a good chance at it. However, while I waited, I took a few "draft" shots that had people walking through the frame just to see what came out, and noticing details in those photos helped me choose the right composition for that shot, even though those draft shots weren't any good. (In other words: you don't need a viewfinder to find a view.)

One other temple I visited was the Shimogamo Shrine. It's a small shrine nestled in a dense wooded area in the middle of Kyoto.

The last shot, of the taiko-bashi, was one where the best composition was very obvious to me as soon as I noticed it, but I still took the time to try other possibilities. Rather than a waste of time, these other shots revealed why this was indeed the ideal shot: any other angle I tried would fail to balance the elements, even if the taiko-bashi was conflicting with the sanmon in the background. Even a higher-up point of view (which I wasn't able to explore) wouldn't show the creek's reflections as neatly.

Next, I took the Thunderbird Limited Express train to Tsugura, and then the Hokuriku Shinkansen to Kanazawa. I only spent one evening and the following morning in Kanazawa, as my main reason to go there was so that I could fill in a night that I hadn't booked any hotels with the intent of booking the Sunrise Express, which I did not manage to do. However, this was also a great opportunity to take a train somewhere off the Hokkaido Shinkansen line, and I'm glad I did, because the entire trip, including the following day trip to Tokyo along the rest of the Hokuriku Shinkansen, was absolutely gorgeous.

The last four shots, taken from the Thunderbird Limited Express, necessitated some manual white-balance correction due to the tinted window of the train car. Although I didn't perceive it as very tinted while I was there, looking at the raw images afterward showed how off and green-tinted everything was, as so it was also an opportunity for me to balance these images in the way I perceived them while traveling through these landscapes, and not necessarily exactly as it was. It was a bright and sunny autumn day, and so I felt it was a good choice to make them slightly warmer, to really bring out the browns and yellows from the foliage.

Although I spent just about an hour taking photos in Kanazawa, I did take quite a few of them. However, very few produced results that I liked. I was rushing, after all, and I think this was a good way to benchmark my keep rate on a rushed photo walk. The lighting was perfect, the subjects were incredible, and yet very few photos worked. This was a lesson as good as any about how much intention and patience matter in photography.

I then boarded the Hokuriku to take the trip back to Tokyo. The weather was perfect, and the views were magnificent. Starting from the coastal sights in Kanazawa, around the high Kubiki Mountains, and through the Chikuma-gawa river valley, the sights just kept on coming, and I didn't find much downtime to eat or write down on my travelogue.

During this trip, which was my last Shinkansen trip of my visit, I switched between mechanical and electronic shutter modes depending on the result I wanted, and I believe I was able to get much better results than in my first trip, and I'm happy to see my intentions were achieved quite effectively. It is still quite a challenge to take photos from a fast-moving train, as you have to deal with glare, motion blur, sway, and the fact that a tunnel or barrier may block your view in the blink of an eye. This is definitely a case where you want to be a bit trigger-happier than you normally would.

I then spent a few more days in Tokyo. Although I felt more comfortable with the energy of this place, I was still mostly visiting places I hadn't been to yet, and so there was still a level of unfamiliarity I was playing with in my photography.

In retrospect, one compositional aspect of these Tokyo Tower photos I wish I had explored better was the people walking along the sidewalks. I think I could have worked with them better, since a constant presence of visitors is a big part of the story of this subject.

I really like these tight close-ups I got of the tower, however:

From the tower's observation decks, I was able to explore one of my favourite photography styles, which is urban landscape photography. I find that when I visit high viewpoints, there are often so many details I miss, which I only ever notice later in the photos I take. However, the feeling of being there tends to be well-captured in the photos as well. When I combine these two things, I feel this genre has a somewhat hyperrealistic aspect to it, and I love exploring that.

So, after all these photos, what did I learn? While I think it's hard to quantify my learnings during this trip objectively, there are a few take-away points that I think will certainly guide me in the future – and which have already helped me with the photography I've done since this trip:

• Understand your equipment to the best of your abilities. Knowing its strengths as well as its limitations will help you make better and quicker decisions about technique when you're out and about.
• Photography is about transporting the viewer not only to the places where photos were taken, but also to the mindset of the photographer who took them. And thus:
• Being present in the moment is more important than any technical achievement. If you're not connected to your surroundings it's likely your photos won't be, either.
• Patience is the most important skill in a photographer's kit.
• It's okay to try the same subject in different approaches, to take several shots with tiny adjustments in between them, and to go back to try something else at a later time.
• At the same time, being able to identify a spontaneous photo opportunity is important, and having the presence of mind to hit the shutter when "it" happens takes intent.
• Studying your work in retrospect and introspecting about how you could have done better are essential to becoming a better photographer.

But maybe the most important point is: there will always be more to learn, and you'll only learn by doing it. So keep releasing that shutter.