Every trip has its non-negotiables.
For my sister, it was an omakase.
For me, it was an onsen (Japanese hot spring)… which was promptly vetoed by the rest of the group for many reasons. I’ll save that dream for my next trip—solo.
Months in advance, I reached out to our hotel concierge to secure a spot at a highly coveted, eight-seat Michelin-star restaurant plus the add extra courses.
This dinner became the most anticipated meal of our entire trip.
Did we forget to eat that day? Or were we just not hungry?
Depends on which sibling you ask. My sister famously forgets to eat. My brother—who follows a carnivore diet—was making strategic snack runs to the nearest 7-Eleven and FamilyMart throughout the day.
Let me rewind to how the day started in Kyoto. We went. We saw. We conquered:
• Arashiyama Park
• Otagi Nenbutsu-ji
• Iwatayama Monkey Park
• Kinkaku-ji
After 27,495 steps, we returned to the hotel in Osaka to get ready for dinner.
.
My brother was—shockingly—the first one ready.
When we arrived at the restaurant, we were guided to our seats, unsure of what awaited us. No menu. Limited English. Just trust.
To our left, a couple sipped Champagne, celebrating their wedding anniversary. To our right, three friends drank sake in honor of one friend’s arrival in Japan.
What did we drink? Still water.
The omakase experience truly lived up to its meaning—“I leave it up to you.” Every course was decided in real time, mid-meal, by the chef in front of us.
At one point, my sister—putting her best Japanese accent to use—asked where the bathroom was.
“Sumimasen, toire wa doko desu ka?”
すみません、トイレはどこですか？
The sous chef replied entirely in Japanese, giving detailed directions. My sister stared back with dazed eyes… then confidently walked off toward the only bathroom.
Not long after, my brother adopted a strategy of his own.
He began sitting in the bathroom for minutes at a time, quietly hoping the chef would forget about him—and maybe, just maybe, skip serving him a few courses.
Sitting face-to-face with the chef, I started to feel unwell—nauseous and very full. Embarrassed, I tried to power through. My sister leaned over and whispered, “Eat. Swallow.”
She was right.
I had no choice.
And just as the chef placed the next course in front of me, I realized I might not make it through the rest of the meal…