I Went to Japan Solo, and It Was the Best Breakdown I’ve Ever Had

Lets be clear, not in a spiritual Eat, Pray, Love kind of way (although it kind of turned out to be) more in a need a break before I commit a crime kind of way.

I booked the flight in December, cried on the plane in January, and by the end of the month I was contemplating a new life under a fake name in Tokyo. So yes, it went well.

The flight? No compromise on price, very pleasant and comfortable, thanks British Airways. But 14 hours of watching strangers sleep with their mouths open and 4 full movies (what else is there to do?) Add a four hour car journey to London beforehand and it became one of those “is this still worth it?” moments. (to be fair - it absolutely was.) I landed at Haneda Airport, was greeted by robots, genuinely, nobody believed me when I told them, actual talking robots, and suddenly I felt both very welcome and very obsolete - just this was already the experience of a lifetime.

Day 1: Akasaka, Egg Sandwiches & 7/11 Culture

Checked into a Hotel Mystays in Akasaka, Uwabaki and Jinbei waiting on fresh, clean pressed sheets like I’d been dropped into a minimalist fever dream. Tucked away on quiet backstreets just five minutes from the train station, the hotel was the perfect blend of calm and convenience. My room came with a fridge, a bed that 100% understood my jet lag aching 30+ year old bones, and some kind of two in one kettle/noodle warmer that I absolutely did not trust myself to use but immediately did, and I don't even like noodles.

I later walked the streets in a jet lagged haze, fuelled by a 7/11 egg sandwich, a can of peach fizz, and some Japanese hula hoops, I did have plans of trying to eat better - but please, not right now. I raided vending machines like I had a sponsorship deal and then spent the evening wandering, wide eyed and wondering if I’d finally lost it, in the best way.

My culture clearly knows no bounds, travelled nearly 6000 miles for the most english style food you could get.

Day 2: Tokyo Skytree & Chopstick Induced Rage

After what would become my standard 7/11 breakfast, I strolled around Akasaka to get my bearings, feeling the calmest i've ever felt surrounded by men in business attire and stumbling across the most beautiful temples. Took my first solo train to Sumida, Tokyo’s train system is a mix of wizardry, chaos, and efficiency. You don’t talk, you don’t eat, you just exist quietly, it was heaven.

Like a true tourist, I headed up the Tokyo Skytree (¥3,400 Admission) and caught the sunset from 2,000 feet up, quite possibly one of the most beautiful things i had ever seen - almost beautiful enough to forget the mound of people pushing up to the glass to get their insta pics...

...I was one of them...

Dinner time in the Asahi Sky Room, a criminally underrated spot on the 22nd floor of the Asahi Beer Headquarters, and mercifully free of crowds once you are selected to enter. I had buttered potatoes. With chopsticks. It was, an experience…and although perfectly cooked and seasoned, they were nothing compared the to view from the window table, sitting with a cold one catching the last of the sun over the city.

I meant it when I said I had 'buttered potatoes..just, buttered potatoes.

Took a detour to the back past the Skytree and gardens which were now blaring with lights, worth the extra steps NGL.

Day 3: Shinjuku, Pikachu Pity Prizes & ¥1,600 Cake

I ventured to Shinjuku to see the Godzilla head because, honestly, why wouldn’t you chase a giant lizard through a foreign city when your jet lag has dissolved all sense of reality?

Next stop: Harbs for afternoon tea, a recommendation from a wholesome solo travel girl facebook group who conveniently forgot to mention it would cost me the financial equivalent of a small wedding. The queue wrapped round the centre like it was handing out immortality, but I had faith (and 45 minutes to kill). I was graciously shown to my seat, handed a photo only menu like a lost toddler, and nervously pointed at a cake and a green tea.

The damage? More than some of my childhood birthdays combined. But the cake? I’d happily get into debt for this alone.

Find someone who looks at you like I look at Green Tea

Post dessert, I waited 20 minutes to see the famous 3D cat (worth every minute) known as Cross Shinjuku Vision, located near the east exit of Shinjuku Station. I then rolled into Tokyo Kabukicho Tower, a place of dreams with everything you need under one roof, home of grabber city, Namco Tokyo, where I publicly humiliated myself via claw machines until a kind worker, presumably out of second hand embarrassment, popped open the glass and handed me a Pikachu plush. I may have cried. Or bowed. Or both. Wrapped up the chaos with a drink at The Kabuki Hall - Kabuki Yokocho, a neon drenched fever dream that looked like Studio 54 had a baby with a pachinko parlour. In Japan, yokocho are small alleys crammed with tiny restaurants, bars, and Japanese pubs called izakaya. They're popular places to go drinking after work and eat cheap and delicious food, though at this point my diet would

consist of Harbs and Mcdonald’s.

Day 4: 100,000 Steps and a Dead Social Battery

I hit my introvert wall. After what felt like 100,000 steps, I needed a quiet day. Went for a coffee, sat in an Italian place and ate pizza while pretending I wasn’t slowly disassociating from people overload. It was bliss.

Day 5: Mt. Fuji, Illegal Speeds & 4AM Revelations

Stopped at a tiny local café in Ebisu where I, 100% upset the most adorable elderly owner. She was trying so sweetly to communicate with me, and I was doing my best nod and smile routine, in the end Google translate was my saviour, and we had a great rapport, until I tried to leave her a tip. Now, I knew tipping isn’t the done thing in Japan. I’d read it, heard it, absorbed it. But the Yorkshire in me took over, and before I could stop myself, I’d waved off the change and left her looking like I’d just insulted her ancestors. Felt like a twat. She ran after me down the whole aisle of the cafe with my coins like I’d dropped a kidney.

Lesson learned: read the room, not just the google guidebook. Shame nicely bottled up for future use, went and saw Mt. Fuji from Lake Kawaguchi and contemplated throwing my phone into the water and starting fresh. Took a detour to Tsukuba Circuit, then joined a Tokyo night drift tour which felt more like a Fast & Furious skit.

Seeing Tokyo at night from that angle? Unforgettable. Got back to my hotel at 4am and at that point, sleep was a suggestion, not a reality.

Day 6: Harbs Round Two & Harajuku Mayhem

Returned to Shinjuku because I’d mastered the trains and was now essentially a local.

Had another Harbs experience, full course this time (of course shamelessly expensive, zero regrets).

Wandered Takeshita Street in Harajuku, bought a bunch of things I didn’t need, ate a load of stuff my hips will absolutely hold onto for another 5 years and realised shopping therapy is real, and I am deeply unwell.

Day 7: Shibuya Scramble & Slight Emotional Collapse

Crossed the iconic Shibuya Crossing and immediately spiralled into a mini identity crisis so went and sat with a coke and watched from the Magnet Building, a non touristy, very artsy spot I found by accident and now consider sacred ground.

Watched the controlled chaos below with the calm detachment of someone who has seen things and bought too many keyrings.

Day 8: Goodbye Robots, Hello Northern Lights

Checked out of the hotel, took a breezy Uber to the airport, cried into my neck pillow.

But the flight back gave me one last gift, we flew through the Northern Lights. I took it as a sign that maybe, just maybe, I hadn’t completely ruined my life and there may actually be better things further afield of Tokyo (i’m still waiting)

Cost Breakdown (7 Days) Hotel - ¥129,680 (£663.44) Taxi's - ¥8800 (£45.02) Trains - ¥360 (£1.84) Cafe's - ¥4981 (£2.51) Harbs (2 trips) - ¥1,542.36 (£78.09) Meals & Food Shopping - ¥15,196 (£77.74) Attractions - ¥6,700 (£34.38)

Final Thoughts:

If you’ve ever considered running away for a bit, I cannot recommend Japan enough. It’s clean, pristine in fact, inexpensive, safe, even for solo females, weird in the best way, and gives you space to be completely anonymous while eating snacks shaped like pandas.

Would I go back? In a heartbeat. In fact, don’t tempt me, I’m one mental breakdown away from selling everything and moving into a capsule hotel. Travelling solo was, hands down, the best thing I’ve ever done for my mental health, and I say that as someone who’s tried everything from journaling to expensive serums that claim to fix your soul. There’s something profoundly healing about being completely alone in a place where nobody knows your name, your trauma, or your baggage.

You stop performing. You stop explaining. It’s just you, your thoughts, and a whole country of strangers who don’t give a shit if you cry into your konbini sandwich at 10am.

I learned how to be alone without feeling lonely. I reconnected with parts of myself I’d buried under burnout, people pleasing, and the sheer noise of everyday life. I remembered I’m capable. I remembered I’m allowed to rest. And more than anything, I remembered I actually like my own company.

So if you're on the edge, flirting with burnout, heartbreak, or just pure boredom, book the flight. Go alone. Eat the overpriced cake. Get lost on the trains. Cry on a bench if you need to. Japan won’t judge you. And neither will I. If you're planning your own escape to Japan (or just want to avoid offending sweet old café owners), I’ve put together a separate post with things you definitely need to know so you can spend less time Googling and more time buying socks from vending machines. Read it here.