I poke my head out of the taxi for some air, noting the darkness that surrounds us at 4:00am. This morning, we’re going to Tsukiji Fish Market - the largest wholesale fish and seafood market in the world.

Sellers are still setting up shop when we arrive. It’s the perfect time for me to acquaint myself with the space. Upon arrival, Tsukji  seems  intimidating with a whole lot of chaos. But a closer look reveals that everything and everyone is moving at a routined manner. Fresh catch is loaded into the market by car, boat, or truck then parts are auctioned off.

With one eye on my eyepiece and the other on the trucks zooming by transporting catch from one location to another, I peruse the aisles for anything interesting on display.

My hand feels around on the nightstand quietly, I’m trying to find my cell phone in the dark and not wake up my roommate Sal at the same time. The phone flashes 3:49am.

I’ve had a hard time falling asleep the last few days but I don’t mind. There is no better place to stay up all night than in Tokyo, Japan. I sneak out of bed and grab my camera, I tiptoe around the suitcases on the floor and snap a few pictures through the window.

Japan is addictive for photographers - its ancient culture with ceremonies and traditional dress, its lush green landscape and the romantic spring cherry blossoms, its quick embrace of technology and fast economic development.

For me, the appeal of this country lies in its contrast. Japan is a world of dichotomies and of contradiction - it is futuristic as much as it is traditional, it is calm and collected yet effusively emotional, it is the past and the present, preserved in one place. It is wabi sabi.

I sit by the window for a few more minutes and start to yawn. Tiptoeing back to my bed, I decide to give sleep one more try and snuggle back under the covers.

Tonight, I hope I dream about Tokyo.

I walked up the stairs cautiously to avoid tripping in complete darkness. Guided by the dim rays of a handheld flashlight, I made my way up the uneven stairs at dawn.

After a week in Jakarta that often ended in late-night karaoke, I was craving to get a taste of Indonesian history. Only a quick plane ride away from the capital, Yogyakarta is a historic and cultural hub of Indonesia. The land surrounding Yogya is home to many Hindu and Buddhist temples.


My attempt to catching sunrise at Borobudur failed that particular cloudy morning. But the 9th century Buddhist temple, made up of 2,672 panels and over 500 Buddha statues, was still a photogenic site. After morning tea at Borobudur, I went to the Hindu temple Prambanan. As someone raised by agnostic parents, I have always found religion intriguing.

This blog post was made possible through my partnership with Kensington Tours, but they did not request that I write a favorable review or have a near miss with a coconut falling on my head.