Tourism Slowly Returns to Japan

The Telegraph: After showing us to our room on the 42nd floor of our Tokyo hotel, the porter said firmly: "If there's an earthquake, get away from the window and stay in bed. The cupboard doors will bang from side to side, but ignore them – they've been designed to do that. Instead, listen out for the tannoy and follow any instructions. The fire escapes are to your left."

After that I couldn't sleep. What was I doing taking my 12-year-old son to such a danger zone? We didn't have an earthquake that night, but there was an aftershock the following evening – the second we experienced during our week-long trip to Japan earlier this month. I didn't feel it, but my son Thomas, lying in bed at the time, did and was distinctly nervous about another night so many floors above the ground.

I never wanted to go to Japan – but Thomas did. He loves Nintendo, manga, Buddhism, sushi, technology and tranquillity. After he nagged me about a year ago, I finally said, "If you pay for your trip, you can go". I didn't realise that he was going to get a part in a film over the summer and, with it, enough money to take himself (and me) to the place of his dreams.

We were meant to leave for Tokyo less than three weeks after the earthquake and tsunami. After taking advice from the British consulate we decided to postpone our visit. But the moment most of Japan was declared safe we were off.

I had expected a country pullulating with people, but it was quiet and serene. There were few signs in Tokyo that anything had happened at all. Panic buying had stopped. We had brought our torches and bottles of water, but there was no need for either. Everyone was drinking tap water and walking the streets.

Lights were dimmed in the subway, down escalators were turned off and the famous Blade Runner-like "television screens in the sky" on the Studio Alta building in Shinjuku were also switched off. But the streets were well lit enough and most of the neon signs were still glowing. Otherwise, we noticed nothing odd at all. When we felt our first minor tremor in a café, no one budged.

What's more, all the sights were ours – and ours alone. Our guidebook had warned us of packed temples in Kyoto, but there was no one there. In a week we saw just 20 western faces. To sit in front of not just one, but many, Zen gardens on your own is a priceless treat.

To share cherry blossoms and flaming red maples with a few Japanese is just what one would want. We felt truly a part of the country and its experience rather than two of a million tourists on the outside, looking in.

This was great for us, but it can't last. Japan has had a difficult few years economically and needs all the help it can get to recover. Before we left I watched a BBC film about a sake manufacturer who was going out of business, destroyed not by the tsunami but by Japanese politicians suggesting that to celebrate the annual cherry blossom season in the usual sake-filled way would be inappropriate. But Japan needs to start celebrating and not to allow those who have survived to be overwhelmed by guilt.

The 10-bedroom ryokan (traditional inn) in which we stayed in Kyoto had only two visitors – us. Everyone else had cancelled. They were thrilled when we rebooked after our initial cancellation and treated us like royalty. "Of course," our Japanese friend said. "You were the empress and Thomas was the emperor."

As the women at the ryokan waved goodbye to us, they were waving goodbye to their income for who knows how long. Tourism is down 75 per cent right now in Japan.

I lived in California for a few years in my twenties and remember many conversations about the San Andreas Fault. Earthquakes aren't new; what is new is our desire for safety at all times. But we have to support Japan, not just by donating a few quid, but by making the country feel alive again – and wanted.