Japan

An intense and unforgettable journey through the Land of the Rising Sun — two weeks straddling mid-August to discover the most authentic Japan, from the ordered chaos of Tokyo to the silent temples of Kyoto, through immaculate castles, sacred forests and the memory of Hiroshima.

Arriving in Tokyo is an immediate plunge into the future: the Shinjuku skyscrapers disappearing into the humid August sky, the Shibuya crossing where hundreds of people intersect like a perfect anthill, the Akihabara district with its neon lights and manga and electronics shops. Then the sudden silence of Senso-ji in Asakusa, the city's oldest temple, with the red lantern of Kaminarimon and the scent of incense blending with the warm air. Tokyo is a city you don't understand — you live it — and every neighbourhood is a world of its own.

The first excursion outside Tokyo leads to Nikko, a UNESCO heritage site nestled in the mountains of Tochigi Prefecture. The Toshogu shrine, dedicated to the shogun Tokugawa Ieyasu, is a triumph of golden lacquer and polychrome carvings set amid forests of ancient cedars — a striking contrast with the Zen sobriety of classical Japan, yet breathtakingly beautiful. The famous "see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil" monkeys have been carved in wood here for over four centuries.

Kamakura, the ancient samurai capital, is just an hour's train ride from Tokyo. The outdoor Great Buddha (Daibutsu), thirteen metres of bronze, gazes with the serene expression of one who has watched centuries pass without flinching. The paths between Zen temples — Engaku-ji, Kencho-ji — wind through hills covered in bamboo and hydrangea, the sea glimpsed through the foliage. A perfect place to understand what wabi-sabi truly means.

From Tokyo heading west: Hakone, the gateway to Mount Fuji. The cruise on Lake Ashi with the red torii emerging from the water, the volcanic Owakudani valley with its sulphurous fumaroles and the famous black eggs (one for every extra five years of life, legend says). On lucky days Fuji appears above the clouds — a vision that justifies entire journeys.

Kyoto is the heart of traditional Japan. Three days are never enough, but enough to fall in love. The Kinkaku-ji (Golden Pavilion) reflected in the pond is the perfect postcard, but it's the Fushimi Inari Taisha with its ten thousand vermillion torii gates that truly strikes — an orange tunnel climbing the mountainside for four kilometres, in a silence broken only by crows and wind. Arashiyama with its bamboo forest, the Silver Pavilion (Ginkaku-ji) with its Zen sand compositions, and the geisha district of Gion where time seems to have stopped.

A full day dedicated to Nara, the ancient capital where sacred deer (shika) roam freely through the park, bowing to ask for senbei rice crackers. The Todai-ji houses the world's largest indoor bronze Buddha, in a wooden building that is itself the largest in the world. The impression is of being in a place where the sacred and nature are one and the same.

The bullet train (Shinkansen) reaches Hiroshima in under two hours. The Peace Park and Memorial Museum are a perspective-changing experience: the ruins of the Genbaku Dome, the stories of the hibakusha, the peace bell ringing in the silence. Then, by ferry, the magical island of Miyajima with the great floating torii of Itsukushima that turns red at sunset against the sea. Deer here too, wandering among temples and souvenir lanes.

A brief stop at Himeji to admire Japan's most beautiful castle: the White Heron Castle (Himeji-jo), with its immaculate white walls and six wooden storeys standing for over four centuries. A masterpiece of military architecture and elegance.

The quintessential spiritual stop: Mount Koya (Koya-san), centre of Shingon Buddhism founded by the monk Kukai in the ninth century. You sleep in a temple (shukubo), dine on the monks' vegetarian cuisine (shojin ryori), and in the early morning attend the fire ceremony (goma). The Okunoin, Japan's largest cemetery, is a two-kilometre path through over two hundred thousand moss-covered tombs beneath giant cedars — an atmosphere outside of time.

The finale in Osaka, the "kitchen of Japan". The Dotonbori district with its giant luminous signs (the mechanical crab, the running Glico man), the sizzling takoyaki (octopus balls), okonomiyaki (the "Japanese pizza") and crispy kushikatsu — all in the humid evening heat of August, amid the crowds and laughter. Osaka is generous, loud, fun: the perfect counterpoint to Kyoto's composure.

Two weeks that redefine the concept of travel: Japan is not a place you visit, it's a place that enters you.