Okay, so we admit it. We have been less than stellar bloggers as of late. But you will just have to forgive us because, you see, we are on the home stretch of our time here in Korea. With less than two weeks left here we have been busy trip planning, packing up, saying our goodbyes to departing friends, and collecting all the necessary visas, vaccines, and malaria pills we may need for the next four months. We did, however, take a break from all the mad scrambling last week to cross the East Sea (or the Sea of Japan, depending on your perspective).

Of course, anything that can possibly be overstated about Japan has probably been said before, but it takes a much more talented observer not to crescendo into hyperbole in this country. Japan’s dichotomies are so stark and it’s subtleties so perplexing that it is extremely difficult not to feel overwhelmed and intimated. Yet, one of the first things we learned about Japan is that it is not a country which rewards timidity. One cannot expect a warm welcome here without taking a few risks.

The old streets of Kyoto are especially intimidating in their traditions and exclusivity. Shops, restaurants and cafes are hidden along narrow alleyways with no sign or placard advertising their existence—the idea being that if you don’t know where it is, you shouldn’t be there anyway. In Japan, instead of waiting to be invited or dragged inside, you have to muster enough courage and confidence to slide open the darkened screen door of a machiya (traditional wooden house) restaurant or teahouse.

And it isn’t just social anxieties one must overcome in Japan, but more traditional phobias a well. Japan demands a Godzilla’s-eye-view of everything, above the throngs of traffic and zillions of people. Thus we found ourselves continually searching for high ground atop hills, skyscrapers and hotel restaurants (where we clearly did not belong). Needless to say, Japan is not a country for sufferers of acrogoraphobia.

Yet for all its challenges, Japan offers up a lot of pleasant surprises as well. On Sunday night we were wandering around the mostly deserted streets of Gion in Higashiyama, Kyoto. As we walked up one cobbled street and down another it seemed as if the city had shut down for the night. But then, somewhere immediately to our left, a screen door slid open, illuminating the street, and five figures staggered out. It took only a few seconds to realize what was going on as three smartly dressed men and two maiko (apprentice geisha) emerged from one of Kyoto’s exclusive hidden teahouses. Seeing as we were the only other people on the street and only a few feet away, I resisted pulling out our camera, but much to Greg’s dismay, I couldn’t keep myself from staring as they brushed past us.

All in all, our trip to Japan was a whirlwind of experiences and sensory overload that we couldn’t possibly detail in one post. In Kyoto, we spent our mornings drinking matcha (powdered green tea), listening to the hypnotic tones of temple chanting, or hiking to a mountain waterfall. By the afternoon we were in electric Osaka—45 kilometers and a lightening fast 14 minutes away.

In Tokyo, we were awake before dawn to take in the frenetic energy and slightly macabre atmosphere of the Tsukiji fish market. Then in Rongponggi, we stayed up late wandering through bookshops and museums (like the fabulous Mori Art Museum). We window-shopped and gallery-hopped in Ginza. We slept on tatami mats in a ryokan and in twelve-bunk hostel rooms. We bathed in sento and ate kaiseki. We took our shoes off, put them back on, and then took them off again. And again. And again.

Pretty soon we will be putting our traveling shoes back on once more. Japan was kind of like a warm up for the next few months, but for now it’s back to business: packing and saying annyeong to Korea.