on January 31, 2026
History, Koi, 
and Quiet Confidence
Day five began at a gentler pace. We woke later and headed down for breakfast around 9:00am. Shinjuku, even in the morning, feels relentless — a city that never truly sleeps. The scale, the noise, the movement… it can be slightly overwhelming, especially after the calm of Kyoto.
We decided to visit the Imperial Palace. Knowing we wouldn’t be able to go inside, we felt that walking the full perimeter would be just as meaningful — and in many ways, it was.
The palace grounds are surrounded by immaculately maintained trees, many pruned into vast cloud-like forms. We found ourselves wondering how old some of them must be, standing silently while centuries passed around them. As we walked alongside the wide moat, our eyes naturally searched the water. Surely there had to be fish in a body of water this large.
Craig eventually spotted two carp in a shallow, sunlit section of the moat — enjoying the warmth just as much as we were.
What really struck us was the sheer scale of everything. Gatehouses, stone walls, wells — structures dating all the way back to the Edo period — all standing firm amid one of the world’s most modern cities. History here isn’t hidden away; it coexists.
We explored the East Gardens of the Imperial Palace, noticing familiar trees along the way — olive, Japanese pine, bamboo. In one sheltered area, protected from the wind by enormous walls, we were lucky enough to spot the very beginnings of blossom. A quiet hint of what’s to come.
One of the most memorable moments came when we spent time watching the butterfly koi (Hirenaga). These koi were a gift from Indonesia and live in a beautifully designed Japanese-style pond, complete with rocks, pebble beaches, and a waterfall. The water was surprisingly shallow, yet the koi looked incredibly healthy and content — a small but powerful reminder that perhaps ponds don’t always need to be as deep as we think.
After stopping at a vending machine for water and coffee, we completed the circuit and made our way to Tokyo Station, grabbing a taxi back to Shinjuku.
Lunch came courtesy of the 7‑Eleven at the base of our hotel — a reminder that convenience stores in Japan are on a different level entirely. I went for a cheese and pork dumpling and a panko crumb‑coated chicken sandwich, while Craig chose curry bread — a doughnut‑like roll filled with katsu‑style curry sauce, which he assured us was excellent.
We took a short break back at the hotel, catching up with loved ones at home, before heading out again later. I also filmed eight minutes of video of the famous 3D cat to send back — a small slice of Shinjuku madness captured for home.
Dinner was ramen and gyoza — simple, fast, and delicious. Ordering via a ticket machine and handing it over felt strangely impersonal to us: eat, enjoy, and move on. Yet that efficiency is part of Japan’s rhythm.
What we noticed most today was our growing confidence. Navigating Japan feels a little more natural now — understanding the flow, the etiquette, and doing our best not to upset anyone along the way.
Tomorrow, Mount Fuji is calling.
