When I arrived in Japan in 2003, I didn’t come looking for a new life. I came for the experience — a year, maybe two — without imagining the country would shift under my feet, or that I would shift with it. Back then, Japan felt firmly anchored in the analogue world. People clung to cash with white-knuckled conviction. Flip phones ruled the world, and were the envy of it. ATMs had operating hours — even shutting down entirely for four days over the New Year holiday. Daily life ran on habits that felt immovable, accepted without question.

Tokyo is an incredible place to photograph — electric, peaceful, modern, ancient. But in recent years, something has shifted. As tourism has surged, so has resident frustration with photographers, influencers, and visitors who sometimes treat Japan more like a stage set than a living city. Some of this frustration is understandable. Pathways get blocked. Moss and flower beds gets trampled on. Private homes become props. And in a city where space is already tight, even small moments of thoughtlessness add up quickly.

It’s Christmas. I’ve always liked Christmas. Not just the day itself, but the stretch of time around it. As a musician in the UK, it was never something that began and ended on the 25th. There were concerts and carol services stretching from late November right up to Christmas Day itself. And it didn’t end there. Christmas Day was just the first of twelve. It was a period of time you lived inside, rather than passed through. Christmas Day was a marker, not a finale.

If you’re considering eloping abroad, Japan often rises to the top of the list — and for good reason. For couples searching “elope in Japan,” the appeal is usually a mix of beauty, culture, and the promise of something quieter and more meaningful than a traditional wedding day. But eloping in Japan is not the same as eloping elsewhere. It is shaped by permissions, cultural expectations, and a strong sense of place. Understanding those realities early allows couples to plan a day that feels calm, intentional, and genuinely intimate. This guide answers the most common questions couples ask when they begin exploring whether Japan is the right place to elope.

When I first arrived in Japan in 2003, I thought I had some idea of what I was stepping into. I’d travelled, I’d read the guidebooks, I’d watched the films. I assumed living abroad was simply “life, but different” — familiar enough, just with new scenery. What I didn’t understand was that Japan doesn’t just offer a different lifestyle. It offers an entirely different logic! And it took me years to realise how much of that logic I misunderstood at the start.

There’s something deeply moving about standing together years after your wedding day — hands entwined, hearts and heads a little wiser — and saying “I still choose you.”

For many couples, renewing wedding vows isn’t about recreating the past; it’s about celebrating how far they’ve come, recognising the challenges they may have had to overcome and looking ahead to the next chapter. And in Japan, where every season tells its own story — cherry blossoms for renewal, autumn leaves for gratitude, winter stillness for reflection — a vow renewal is somehow much more meaningful…

I couldn’t tell you the exact moment Japan became home.

Maybe it was when I upgraded my living quarters and moved into a high-rise condominium in Ikebukuro. Perhaps it was when Ayako and I got married… Whenever it happened, there was no ceremony, no milestone, no neat line between the life I thought was temporary and the one that had so very quietly become permanent.

I never planned to live in Japan. In fact, the idea barely crossed my mind beyond the films and books that coloured my teens with distant images of neon streets and quiet temples.

London was home, music was my entire world, and my future felt mapped out in rehearsals, concert halls, and late-night practice rooms. But life has a way of nudging you sideways.

In this scannable guide I aim to bring together everything you need to know — written from my perspective as a photographer who has lived in Tokyo for more than twenty years, and as someone who sees each session as a chance to share their adopted city; a place I have come to love (almost) as much as I love London!

For many, the word elopement once meant secrecy — slipping away quietly to marry without fanfare. But in today’s world, to elope means something very different. It’s an act of intention. It’s about stripping away everything unnecessary so that what remains is real, personal, and deeply yours. And aside from the financial aspect of it all, this is the main reason why the number of couples choosing elopements over more traditional weddings is on the rise.

The Tokyo Prelude Session is a couples photoshoot designed like a date. Rather than hopping from one tourist landmark to another, we move through the city in a way that feels natural, romantic, and personal.

Seasonal Experiences are designed to connect you with the fleeting beauty of Tokyo’s seasons: moments you can only find once a year, captured in photographs you’ll treasure forever.

For many couples, coming to Japan isn’t just about the sights — it’s about connecting with culture. From kimono to tea ceremonies, shrine rituals to calligraphy, these traditions offer a glimpse into the heart of the country.

… life doesn’t always follow the script we imagine. As the late great Steve Jobs once said: “You can’t connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking back.”