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A Japanese Honeymoon

October 31, 2026

Our long-planned honeymoon trip to Japan was an absolute smash hit. All of the advanced planning helped make things smoothly. (You can read the almost final itenerary document here if you wish. It was developed using both this blog, lots of travel experience, and help from Claude which was really insightful when it came to logistics.)

This was an experience of a lifetime, filled with shared sights and adventures, quiet time, full days of travel, great food and relaxed cocktails. Our mission was high art in every place.  We succeeded.

Here is a chronological listing of blog posts.

The Peninsula Tokyo: Honeymoon Bookends

Hakone: Hakone Gora Karaku

Takamatsu (and Naoshima): Hanajukai 夕凪の湯HOTEL 花樹海

Arimasansoh Goshobessho: Perfection in Arima, Japan

The Thousand Kyoto: Respite from the Tourist Hoards

The Peninsula Tokyo: Honeymoon Bookends

The morning after our perfect day on Naoshima came early. Romey was not in the mood for Japanese breakfast again, so we uncovered Little Mermaid (or Ritorumameidotakamatsuekiten リトルマーメイド高松駅店) which served up Danish breakfast in all of its carbohydrate glory. We paid a visit there before hitting the train and heading to Kobe, where we picked up a taxi to Arimasansoh Goshobessho.

I got a special Autumn edition bento at the train station department store just as they opened.

Even the arrival was meaningful as the taxi drove us right past the entrance…discrete and hidden behind a tall wall right on the road. The staff rushed to unload us, and though we were early, finalized our villa as we got permission to eat the bento we had no time for on the train.

We had our lunch by the huge window in the great room. Slowly nature sank back in.

And then we were escorted the exquisite villa with the “birds nest” onsen where we were to spend the night. The space was outstanding. Hands down the best accommodations of the trip.

The bathroom annex included an onsen shower, the birds nest onsen itself (“golden” being a euphemism for muddy), a sauna, and a dressing area with sinks.

The onsen was very cool indeed. We took a soak.

Goshobessho is filled with art and juxtaposed with Portugal in interesting ways. This was reflected in the food as well.

Even the little “stuff bag” for carrying around your personal items between baths was cool.

After a luxurious and fun afternoon, we headed across the compound to the best kaiseki rykan dinner of the trip. Our server Aoi (あおい is a Japanese word that can mean both “blue” and “green,” depending on the context. It is also a common unisex name in Japan, with various meanings based on the kanji used) was delightful, had some quirky but excellent youtube infected English, and was a sake sommelier who had just passed her exams. We asked for just the right thing when we requested a sake pairing. Exceptional.

In this case the food was even more delicious than it looked, and it looked superb.

The chopstick holders came with intentional design.

This sake is super special. Each came with its own beautiful glassware or pottery

The menu

A poem on the wall says in perfect Portuguese melancholia:

Of Myself

I watch myself burning old letters and contemplate the sad smoke that rises…
This sadness is not for you, who have already passed by.
There is nothing in me.
I am sad with myself for having no sadness.

We were the opposite of sad about dinner, and caused a minor kitchen kerfuffle when we requested to speak to the chef and give him our highest compliments.

And then whiskey and another soak before bed.

There was more magic in store the next morning before we departed. We spent some time exploring the small but beautiful compound.

Morning soak and a leaf trapped in falling. Such peace.

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Breakfast backdrop. The architecture incorporates the outside.

Art

Grounds

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Looking up at the bird’s nest.

And then it was off to reacquaint ourselves with the tourist hordes in Kyoto in a chartered car. The drive was just over an hour.

Bye now. Stay cool.

Five showerheads and a bubble of everlasting peace for the Arimasansoh Goshobessho. We sincerely can’t wait to return.

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We start where we left off—on the big travel day, 2 shinkansen trains and a marine liner on our way from Hakone to Takamatsu (which was as close to Naishima as we could stay). Here is the Seto Bridge at sunset from the Marine Liner panorama car (seats 1CD).

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Our taxi ride up the hill from the station co-occurred with a blazing sunset.

Hanajukai is a very Japanese, very regional, and really very awesome. We were welcomed with not much English, and accommodated with humor, grace, and great attention to detail. The extended check-in process involved procuring an all day taxi for Naoshima, working out how and when to route our luggage to Kyoto, and picking meal times. The taxi idea was a new one (hire it all day and take it across on the ferry). We did some laughing.  Ultimately, everything came off without a hitch.

We were assigned a Japanese room (108) on the bottom floor corner with a private onsen on the terrace. The room smelled almost edibly of tatami mats. The furnishings had no legs.  The security door was made of paper.

I took a quick travel-recovery soak before dinner. This is something NPS should adopt at home.

We each donned a Yukata and proceeded to the best local kaiseki so far this trip. Beat Hakone hands down. Udon, special dispensation for Romey. Fish poached on the spot.  Here’s what we had…

Local sake.

Honestly delicious. And then it was back to our futon pods on the floor. (After two nights of this, we were ready for a western bed again.)

I was up with the sun again for a very early onsen.

After we deciphered the elevator instructions, we headed up for a very early breakfast on our Naoshima adventure. We met the taxi at 7:20.

Morning view from the coffee area.

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Naoshima! See the many Naoshima entries: Taxi, ferry, Go’o shrine, chichu, yellow pumpkin, red pumpkin, and sunset ferry.

About the only wrinkle in our Takjamatsu visit came after a magical sunset ferry back to town.  We requested a dropoff at Honetsukidori Ikkaku.  In retrospect we would never do that again. There are not many unwelcoming assholes in Japan, but we managed to  find some.  It became a ramen emergency.

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Followed by a quest to break the little toy machine racket.


A late night onsen saved the day.

Up with the sun again.

Five showerheads for this gem of a hotel Hanajukai. Friendly staff, authentic and delicious local delicacies, beautiful rooms and a perfect onsen.  This made the heart of our honeymoon beat strong.

Welp, Hilton has somehow taken over the best boutique hotel in the city
just like it did in Dublin. Sadly that means the Haven hotel is not really up to NPS standards. Alas.

On the other hand, Rotterdam is well worth a visit. Take a water taxi or seven.

Even if you let a Hilton know exactly when you will be arriving early, they will still NEVER be prepared.

Our room had a view…a long long view.

But even a suite here has such a bad layout that you can’t really nest. I mean, who puts a hot tub directly in the room? Or a sauna just across from the shower?

The sauna was actually fun to use.

And the bed was very comfortable.

But the “suite” was not.

Anyway, we were in Rotterdam, so that was a thing. Lots of amazing food: Zeezout was excellent, River Bar was delicious but not as welcoming. We also scoped out a bunch of little street places with mixed results.

The water is a main attraction.

We had a boat tour of the harbor since it was mandatory. It is a great way to experience the architecture.

The felix is definitely worth a visit.

Sunset at the NY hotel is worth a cocktail visit.

Rotterdam has a door to nowhere.

This is an ice cream cone. LOL.

Four showerheads for the Haven. Not our demographic. We will stay elsewhere when we return to Rotterdam.

Surely you’ve seen In Bruges?! Well we have, and we saw it again before the big birthday trip just for good measure. This is the very hotel featured in the movie.

In person, Relais Bourgondisch Cruyce Hotel is much more sedate and refined. No guns. No child murderers. No rooms full of crazy parties with cocaine and hookers. Darn.

We are actually on a scouting expedition for our return in July. Here’s what we learned.

Room 25 is the one we want. This time we were in 20, which is a very nice room that overlooks the canal but is a smidge small and has extremely limited closet space. So we looked at all the other rooms and 15 and 25 are the new targets.

Room 20 is the one on the right on the second floor where we stayed this time.

And what is that? Real klimt on the wall?? Yup. Lots of real pictures.

No wait really is that a Matisse?

Yes and in fact there is another on the wall in room 20.

We arrived so early that we simply dropped our bags and walked over to hop on a boat. We lulled Madou into a false sense of security by visting 5 previous times and never doing anything touristy. Bwahahaha!

This time he rode the boat.

We even made him climb the tower! But then he ran away, leaving us to explore on our own before returning with reinforcements for dinner.

What a view.

Euro-bathroom might kill you if you are a lawyer.

The breakfast room is very nice, but our quick hit did not include time for that. We were up way too early to take the direct train to Brussels airport (about 90 minutes and very easy) and fly home. The logistics of being in Bruge are excellent on that front.

Dinner at Republiek was great, especially with the entire gang. There was also mandatory ice cream.

All in all Bruges is very much a tourist town, smelling faintly of sugar and clogged up with lost people walking in circles. But it is worth a visit, if not just to drag Madou up the tower.

Four showerheads for Relais Bourgondisch Cruyce Hotel, a romantic little gem hidden among the droves.

My mom was a francophile. I’m not sure why, because her French was not that great and she was more of a worldly American trapped in East Tennessee than anything else. She loved Paris especially. Whenever she visited with dad, she always stayed at Lutéce on Ile St Louis.

I stayed here myself a couple of times years ago, and felt drawn to the island to share a bit of my mother’s ghost with Romey. This is the only way they will meet.

The hotel has seen an excellent facelift as a result of COVID, and remains a beautiful little quirky gem. Of course, when you learn anything about Paris (and Lutèce) you find out that ile saint louis is all very new and once was the domain of more cows than people—kind of like where we live now only with much less city. Thanks to Victor Hugo, Notre Dame was rescued from decrepitude and became, once again, the heart of the world.

Speaking of which, here we are standing together on the dot that was once the center of planet earth from which every other place was measured. Our friends Yo and Caroline trained down from Leuven to join us for the weekend—time we will always treasure.

We dropped our bags on a rainy morning (having come down from Hotel de Nell) and headed back up for lunch at Habile. Not to state the obvious, but the French are excellent cooks. Food plays a central role in human existence, and the French have known this for centuries. This is something my mother knew to her core as well.

Habile is superb and fun and neon colored and eclectic. It is also situated in the heart of a set of high-end vintage clothing stores. A coat that immediately caugfht Romey’s eye in the window was a Hermes for a mere 2500 euros. We had fun perusing the stores.

This is the “arc of participation prize.”

Eventually we ran out of steam and stopped for a drink in a random street cafe.

Around sunset we made it down to the seine.

We parted ways for the evening over a glass of champagne in the lobby and headed up to room 61.

61 is a very cool room with an excellent bathroom.

And then it was off to Pur for a delicious old school dinner.

Bright and early the next morning we walked together to the Musée d’Orsay.

Pictures from our visit here.

View from 61.

After a very brief rest came an excellent private tour of the newly-renovated Notre Dame.

Then it was off for some shopping at Galleries Lafayette. Just go. Nothing was purchased.

We returned to Ile Saint Louis in the very nick of time for a delightful oyster fest at
Poget & De Witte, featuring two bottles of wine and five renditions of the happy birthday song: english, chinese, dutch, german, french and “pissed off drunk guy.”

Romey and Caroline were busy conjuring up words for the various translations.

After dinner we had more mandatory pommes frites at Le Saint-Regis which is about as touristy as they come. Then we packed up and readied ourselves for the trip home.

A warning: we were shanghaied by Dior in the airport somehow on our way out of town the next morning. LOL. A cherished keepsake is now in the inventory.

We had an excellent adventure filled with lots of walking, lots of talking, and lots of love.

Five showerheads and fond memories for Lutèce.

It was an ill-fated plan that failed along two predictable dimensions. But it was worth investigating. The investigation involved a trip to the middle of nowhere in Pennsytucky where we were surrounded by bikers—well people on bicycles with ridiculous lycra clothing anyway. It was about as far from dangerous as you can possibly get.

We stayed at the Smith House Inn in Confluence. I mean if you are staying in Confluence, you might as well stay there. You can pretty much walk everywhere else in 4 minutes or less.

We had dinner, a bad negroni, and a ridiculous lighning lashing on the river at River’s Edge.

We had espresso at the Tissue Shop and a laugh about meatballs.

Three showerheads for the fly speck.

In the still active quest to find a NY hotel to use as home base, we present the (nope) Intercontinental Barclays hotel.  This was a quick, trip up for business and pleasure.

The Barclays is old school.  Well, old.  Definitely old.  Try as they might to upgrade to “hip” or “relevant,” there is too much inertia for the sluggish IHG chain to overcome.

Our arrival was very corporate and our room was nice but hamster cage.  All vestiges of Kimpton privilege have been assimilated.  And there is only so much that you can do to drag a mid-century hotel into the new millennium.  Frankly, I don’t even remember what our room number was or even what floor it was on.

The shower was fine.

A comfortable generic bed.  Design by somebody’s grandmother.

Oh, here it is, room 939 on the not at all memorable 9th floor.  This is a concierge floor which means only you can share an OK breakfast with other people who think that concierge service is good.

But it was NYC!  BTW, the Fasano is a great place for a ridiculously expensive business dinner.  Great food and a relaxed atmosphere conducive to conversation.

Also, as always the tucked away Oyster bar in Grand Central is a fun place for a snack.  We tried out the back room (new to me).  The front is more NY, FWIW.

Meanwhile, the bar back at the Barclays has a reputation far beyond its ’70s reality.  Great cocktails served by cynical old school NY barkeeps with a hotel lobby feel that can’t be overcome.  Skip it.

The great news is that the trip’s most memorable experience was a great one.  The MOMA’s Karl Lagerfeld exhibit was not to be missed.  See more here.

Before whizzing back across town and under the river to Newark, we had a great lunch at Blue Willow somewhat on a whim.  Outstanding.

All in all, three showerheads and a continued search for a NY home for the Barclays Intercontinental.  Too much corporate genericism for us.

We came to Spain for an in person meeting—our first encounter as a group since COVID struck the planet.  High bandwidth.  Full of energy. Intense and productive.

The meeting was organized by the best of professionals who discovered an excellent location in the Pestana Plaza Mayor, a refuge in the heart of the tourist zone which manages to avoid most (but not all) of the Disneyfication of Plaza Mayor.  The location really couldn’t be better for first timers to Madrid.

The Pestana is squarely in four star category, like right smack in the middle.  This kind of hotel is perfectly suited for its demographic.

Our arrival process in Madrid was definitely a let down after all the rumors of long lines at customs, COVID QR codes, and lost luggage.  The QR code that took so much effort to secure was not even glanced at in the blue lane.  Our plane was first in. Customs took less than 2 minutes.  Our luggage arrived within 5 minutes, barely enough time to get our bearings.

About the only challenge at arrival was the absolutely cocaine-addled Serbian taxi driver who insisted on aggressively hauling ass through Madrid, unceremoniously dropping us off at the wrong corner past the hotel and insisting on being paid cash.  Anyway, we made it in quick.

So quick, in fact, that we were way way way too early to check in.  We were offered a shower in the (common) spa area.  Which was OK if you don’t mind other people stopping by while you are in your underwear.  The spa was very hot and not properly cleaned and cared for, but the showers work.  Management could do with a better solution to offer early arrivals a more civilized welcome.  FWIW, this problem happens all over the world.

Somewhat freshened, we crossed paths with a colleague just in from Chicago and sought out some espresso and juice for breakfast.

The irony of having an intensely good tiny espresso and some fresh squeezed orange juice just next door to a generic Starbucks was not lost on us.


We stopped in at the Mercado San Miguel for some tourist-priced street food and made our way through old Madrid.  Finally it was time to check in.

We were assigned room 117, a superior room in a classic hamster cage design (nothing like a rectangle with some strategic mirrors).  This room is too tight to spend a week in (more about that to come), but it is fine for a day or three.

The superior category rating comes from the balcony which overlooks Plaza Mayor.  All of that seems awesome until the fourth or fifth night of listening to the hack “musicians” loop through Hit the Road Jack or the Disney princess medley accompanied by a Casio soundtrack on accordion.  Someone should invent a pandemic that wipes out the accordion players in one fell swoop.  The most amusing part of the street music problem is the cat and mouse game they play with the police.

The view from the balcony is excellent.  It is hot as the Dickens in Madrid this week, with temperatures above 101 Farenheit every day.  The breeze through the balcony door is hot.  The A/C in our room is almost up to the task.  Almost.

The shower in 117 is fantastic.  Glass. Lots of hot water.  Plenty of room to get clean. 100% NPS approved.

Lunch with the team from the company we’re advising was incredible at Sa Brisa Restaurante en El Retiro.  We started at 2:30 and finished at 5.  Very Spanish of us!

The rooftop pool at the Pestana is a long skinny rectangle maybe a lane and a half wide.  It is unlikely that the Madrid summer olympics will be held here anytime in the future. But the water is refreshing and the beer is, well, beer (don’t tell Markus).

After this excellent start, a major setback in our trip happened on day one.  After receiving an email from NH about a positive COVID test among the people I was on stage performing with, I decided to test myself in the morning even though I was pretty much asymptomatic.  One positive test result later, it was isolation time and worry for my partner who was also well exposed by that time.

We are still in isolation and recovery mode.  By now I am almost fully recovered and plan to retest tomorrow.  My partner is still in the heart of it (though she has never tested positive we are treating her as if she did).

Anyway, the pretty much constant view became this as the table was shifted over to the balcony door for a day long zoom meeting.  AUGH!  Honestly, I know we are all done with zoom by now, but imagine being fully prepared to chair an in person meeting full of great people from all over the world and then being relegated to zoom less than 200 yards away from the actual meeting.

Lets just say we’ve spent an inordinate amount of time trapped in 117, venturing out to walk the city in the evening once or twice, remaining masked and socially distanced.  Eating room service food, take away pizza, and breakfasts fetched by whichever one of us was the most healthy.  Masking even in our room together.

The hotel has been a very good base of operations, the staff accommodating to the highest degree (we are being very careful and mindful of them), and the interstitial time long and full of nothing.  We even streamed 21 grams one night.

Speaking of which, the room TV/Internet tech all needs to be replaced here.  It is old and it does not work with modern gear.  Good luck making it stream anything.

We are existing on Spanish time, getting up late, lunching well into the 4pm hour, and eating after 10pm.  Can’t wait until we can do that with other humans.

A special breakfast salad brought up for consumption.

A socially distanced Negroni. This plaza (Plaza de Santa Ana) was filled with packed restaurants at 9:30pm.  We asked for a table far from everyone, and had our first proper Negroni of the trip.  We were hoping that would cure us.

That night it was ice cream and potato chips for dinner.

Incidentally, our room is on the first floor above the plaza the bottom right of the lighted doorway square.

Great take out pizza can be found at Pizzamascalzone.

Have an Aperol Spritz…if you can find one.

Be a human.

Walk madrid.

Finally, a word about the common areas of the hotel.  The grand stairway leading to the Plaza Mayor (and to the breakfast room).

Breakfast is excellent.  Having it in the breakfast room and hotel restaurant would be nice.  But so far, no dice.  Fortunately there is Paula.  Paula helped arrange for special treatment for my partner during a number of breakfasts this week.  She was the most helpful and friendly person we encountered.  Be like Paula.

 

We did finally venture out (carefully, slowly, and fully masked) to do some shopping at Paloma del Pozo and to see some art at the Museo Nacional Centro de Arte Reina Sofía.  See our blog entry here.

And we greatly enjoyed an in house Aperol Spritz conjured up by Paula.  (See Aaron?  We fiigured it all out.)

There is obviously much more of Madrid to see.  Until our next visit!

All told, four showerheads and escape from the global pandemic woes for the Pestana Plaza Mayor.  Can’t wait to experience Madrid properly.

 

 

Upon arrival in Italy, NPS was whisked off to perform, postponing arrival at Villa Emma by several hours.  (For more about the first in country performance of our impromptu group, Into the Unknown, see Making Music Near Biella (Miagliano).)  By the time Davide dropped us off at the property it was dark and beginning to cloud up.

It rained.  Walking up the stairs, surrounded by newly met strangers who were already in bed, at midnight, in a lightning storm with rolling thunder, in a slightly dilapidated old Italian villa from the 1800s…really you couldn’t write a more hackneyed scene.  But there you have it.

There were probably vampires.

In the morning the splendiferous beauty of the place was apparent.  Set in the mountains east/northeast of Milano outside of Biella, Rialmosso is a tiny collection of houses built high into the side of a steep hill from Balma.  Villa Emma is two very steep very tiny roads up from the Church at about the same level as the top of the bell tower.

By this point in the trip, music leaks out of the house.  For example, Chopin.

We have convened to create some art.  But the already slightly whacky plan has been partially derailed by COVID, which has taken out three artists, including our fearless leader.  That means the rest of us are assembling art on our own and performing.

We spend much of our time practicing on the back veranda.

Which has views.

And feels as comfortable as home because of the people.

Collective dinner on stage

COVID quarantine has shifted everyone around.  NPS is in this room with three beds (it is always good to have extra beds around just in case?).  Sometimes a bat visits.

Ceilings are a thing throughout the villa.

Fittingly, the view from this room is of the practice space.  This trip is, after all, about making some art.

The kitchen is reasonably equipped, but not by someone who actually cooks. So there are gigantic whisks and tiny nutmeg graters, skinny spatulas and knives that saw.  All in all, the situation is well beyond workable with very good grocery stores about 10 minutes away by car.

One major benefit of the vila is the huge windows that allow lots of fresh air to pervade the house.  Because of our COVID problem we still mask inside, but the delta between fresh air inside and outside is minimal.  The mountain air is fresh and cool.  Sometimes the mornings are chilly, even in July.

The healthy people have been relegated to the downstairs bathroom.  It does not meet NPS standards, but it is large and the water is hot. (Well, the water is hot for some number of people in a row, anyway.)  If you think of this stay as a giant camping trip, it is very cushy indeed.

We’ll just not even comment about the shower.

Maybe the COVID bathroom is better.  We will never know.

 

The common areas are mostly downstairs and are beautiful.  We commandeered one chunk as a bedroom to keep everyone distinctly separated.

The wine situation in Italy is excellent of course.  And fixings for Negronis can be gathered by visiting only two stores.

The bar

 

A car is an absolute necessity here.  Plans to have one available on this trip fell through, and NPS solved the problem with the application of vast quantities of cash.

Plan to rent a car if you stay here.  Getting a bus to Biella is possible, but there is no Tabacchi nearby to purchase bus tickets.  The ride to town takes 52 minutes.

As always in Italia, shopping is a daily phenomenon.  That requires either super human patience or a car.

We have been haunting a couple of important sites in the area.  The first is La Casa del Gelato for ice cream (25 minutes of fun to get there).   The other is Loft Cafe in Biella where we just have to stop by for a Negroni from time to time.

More to come here.

All told, we’ll aware three showerheads to Via Emma.  Bring your tribe and revel in Italy.