Why Do You Travel? Kanko as Learning, and the Places That Feel Right
Why do you travel? Takahiro Mitsui, a Japanese philosopher born in 1991, writing every Friday from inside Japan and outside academia, has moved through every corner of Japan for the past few years, and his answer is kanko (観光) in its original sense: to observe the light of a country as a guest and to learn from it, not to consume it. Not an itinerary but the meaning of travel, from a writer alive today who travels his own country, for the millennial who has already been to Japan once.
For the millennial who has already been to Japan once
Takahiro Mitsui's thesis (To observe the light of a country, 2026-05-06): he has moved through every corner of Japan to turn over the essence of tourism, and some travelers feel uneasy with the uniform, shared experience mediated by social media.
"Why do you travel?"
How would you answer so simple a question?
For the past few years I have moved through every corner of Japan, turning over the essence of tourism.
Yet some travelers feel uneasy with that mainstream, and they should not be lumped in with tourists.
Not where to go: why you go
Takahiro Mitsui's thesis (To observe the light of a country, 2026-05-06): kanko is learning as a guest, and it always presupposes output: what you learned goes back into the life where you live.
In Japanese, going to different places to see and learn is called kanko (観光). The word comes from a line in the Chinese Book of Changes: 観国之光 利用賓于王. In modern terms, it means to observe the light of the country, the society and the people you visit, and to learn from it as a guest.
Kanko, in its original sense, is learning, and it is not one-sided consumption.
It means that when the journey is over and you are back in the country, the society, the community and the relationships where you live, you put what you learned into practice for a better future. That is the essence of kanko.
Which places feel right: fudo
Takahiro Mitsui's field report (Histories are made in closed rooms, 2026-04-12): in all his years of traveling across Japan he found some places comfortable and others not, again and again, and he found his answer in an old idea, fudo (風土).
In all my years of traveling across Japan, I have found some places comfortable and others not, again and again. I thought for a long time about where this groundless sensation comes from. Lately I have found my answer in an old idea: fudo (風土).
No word conveys the heart of the Japanese as they once were better than fudo.
Build the silence within
Takahiro Mitsui's thesis (Silence is built within, 2025-11-27): silence is not a resource buried somewhere in the world; it is created through one's own will and craft, and built within.
This silence is not a resource buried somewhere in the world waiting to be sought out.
That is because silence is not something discovered, but something created through one's own will and craft.
Seen from another angle, a doubt arises: no matter how far we travel in search of silence in the outer world, if we have no silence in the unseen inner realm of our own mind, is it not all just a temporary detox in the end?
Travel light, so you can go on
Takahiro Mitsui's thesis (Strength is living in two kinds of time, 2025-09-05): in an unpredictable age, readiness to leave at a moment's notice matters, and richness lies in finding places where your hours are genuinely full.
From the moment I decide to leave an inn to the moment I check out takes me less than five minutes. Which is another way of saying that I can move house in under five minutes.
Unlike the years before the pandemic, richness is no longer a matter of which country or city you happen to live in. It lies in finding places where your hours are genuinely full, recovering your spiritual energy there, and moving on to what comes next.
Travel as discipline: eating clean, waiting, being called
Takahiro Mitsui's field report (Travel as ascetic practice, 2025-08-27): in Hakata, the greatest flaw of dining out in Japan is that the quality of ingredients cannot be guaranteed, so he rarely eats out and cooks for himself in his hotel room. Takahiro Mitsui's field report (Letting the will of the subject go, 2025-09-10): in Nobeoka, in Miyazaki, he writes that his destinations are not chosen by the will of a subject, and that keeping the diet clean and waiting for the right moment keeps the intuition clear.
To overeat or consume food ill-suited to one’s body damages one's health—the single greatest risk that can derail fieldwork.
Such necessity has shaped my mode of travel, turning it into something resembling modern ascetic practice.
To travel in search of things from within that predicative realm means that the destination is never chosen by the will of a subject.
The places I visit are places to which I have been called by a god; when you arrive at the right place at the right time, that god points you toward the next road.
Still more important is knowing how to wait for the right moment. Life turns on a handful of openings, and if you misread their timing, you cannot take hold of them.
Rather than going where you want whenever you please, what matters is to live almost like a monk in training—keeping your food clean day by day, readying yourself to hear the voice of the gods, and staying light enough on your feet to set out the moment you are called.
What a place keeps and what tourism takes: a mountain, a blossom, a city
Takahiro Mitsui's field report (Reverence was lost on the mountain, 2024-12-25): the reverence once held toward mountains has vanished with the rise of leisure climbing, and overtourism asks for a new attitude toward nature and landscape. Takahiro Mitsui's thesis (A symbol changes with the people who love it, 2025-03-18): a symbol changes with the people who love it, and wondering what the cherry's symbolism will be next gives a deeper journey. Takahiro Mitsui's field report (The right size for a city, 2025-09-04): in Kokura, he judges a city by whether its crowds are on a scale that feels just right.
Today mountaineering is booming, and anyone can climb freely whenever they please.
Along the way, the historical faith born out of daily life and people's lived relationship with the mountains were dismissed as unscientific and ignored—a shift that worked a deep change upon the Japanese heart.
Put simply, the cherry blossom opens in a short time and falls within days, and the Japanese who saw this took it as a symbol of "the fleetingness of life" and of "a moment's radiance of beauty."
And, knowing as I have written that the symbolism of the cherry has changed greatly through history, to wonder "what will the cherry's symbolism be next?" will give a deeper experience than that of the ordinary traveler.
By the feel of having gone through the cities of Japan, Hakata is compact yet gives the impression of too many people, while Kokura is more compact still, has very few tall buildings, and holds its crowds to a scale that feels just right, and that atmosphere is quite unlike other places.
What I feel on this visit, though, is that compared with other cities in Kyushu, Kokura's pace is gentle and the distance between people is just right.
Essays to read
- To observe the light of a country — Why do you travel? Takahiro Mitsui, a Japanese philosopher born in 1991, who travels his own country, notes that kanko is observing a country's light as a guest, and light means shadow too, needing self-restraint and respect.
- Histories are made in closed rooms — Who was Emperor Tenmu? From fieldwork across the Japanese archipelago since 2019: histories told by those who do not know fudo, wind and soil, are armchair theory made in closed rooms, Takahiro Mitsui argues — and why fudo works only when you go to the land.
- Silence is built within — Where do you find silence? Takahiro Mitsui, a Japanese philosopher born in 1991, argues not in the world but within, as a firewall around your own consciousness, and how the onmyoji first laid down kekkai around Heian-kyo.
- Strength is living in two kinds of time — How do I stay calm in an unpredictable world? In an unpredictable age, Takahiro Mitsui maintains, strength is inhabiting both hyper-accelerated time and an unhurried time that seems to have stopped.
- Survival has become a matter of individual discernment — What can the Jomon teach us about surviving climate change? The age of the collective is over, Takahiro Mitsui argues: as climate shifts, individuals must choose where they can truly live.
- A journey made as homage to the dead — Why did Basho make his journey, and why does it still feel mythic? Basho walked where earlier masters had walked, Takahiro Mitsui observes: his journey was homage, and its legend shows how pilgrimage becomes myth.
- Where the sacred follows the resource — Is the Shikoku pilgrimage really about faith? Takahiro Mitsui's thesis: faith aside, the 1,400-kilometer Shikoku pilgrimage looks like the trace of a survey Kukai carried out under imperial decree in search of mercury, the sacred following the state's practical need for cinnabar.
- Travel as ascetic practice — Can travel be a discipline instead of consumption? Travel can be modern ascetic practice, Takahiro Mitsui says, tempering oneself amid urban desire rather than consuming.
- Letting the will of the subject go — How do you move without forcing? Takahiro Mitsui argues fieldwork brings the will of the subject to nothing, and keeping one's own rhythm replaces it.
- Reverence was lost on the mountain — Why do people climb mountains for fun and what did we lose by doing it? Mountains were gods before they were trophies; Takahiro Mitsui weighs what a people loses when reverence gives way to conquest.
- A symbol changes with the people who love it — When is the best time to see cherry blossoms in Japan? The cherry blossom began as the plum's rival and became a philosophy of beauty in transience, Takahiro Mitsui shows: symbols change with their people.
- The right size for a city — What is the right size for a city? Takahiro Mitsui argues it is measured by the distance between hearts, and a gentle pace leaves people room.
- Project 2049, Vol.0 (free in full) — begin here; Project 2049 continues every Friday