Tokyo is less a city than a galaxy of cities, an endless sprawl that somehow stays clean, quiet and impeccably on time.
Neon canyons in Shibuya and Shinjuku give way to hushed shrines, tiny backstreet bars and gardens where cherry blossom falls in spring. It runs on a logic all its own-vending machines on every corner, trains to the second, a politeness that borders on art.
Each neighbourhood is its own world, and you could spend a lifetime and never reach the edge of it.
Eat sushi at a counter, slurp ramen without apology, and hop the lantern-lit izakayas after dark.
Round trip from Prague, any dates in November 2026.

The 13th-century samurai capital by the sea: the 11-metre bronze Great Buddha, zen temples in wooded hills, and the little shrine island of Enoshima along a retro coastal railway.

The classic Fuji-viewing resort: a loop of switchback railway, a cable car over the sulphur vents of Ōwakudani, a 'pirate ship' across Lake Ashi past the floating torii gate — and onsen baths to finish.

The mountain mausoleum of the Tokugawa shoguns — the Tōshō-gū shrine's carving-encrusted gates deep in cedar forest, with the Kegon waterfall and Lake Chūzenji up the switchbacks behind.
Shrines, neon and trains to the second
Wooden temples and neon districts, mountains and hot springs in between, tied together by the most reliable trains anywhere.
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