I’ve Been on 40 Cruises, but This Fall Visit to Japan Was the Most Surprising of All

For a Miami resident like me, the season of amber and russet trees and hiking trails blanketed in leaves is an as-seen-on-TV fantasy. And while most people associate the full-on, fall foliage experience with New England, I set my sights a bit further afield.

So, last October, I touched down in Kobe, Japan, to board the Seabourn Quest, a 458-passenger ship from the luxury line that's a favorite of T+L readers . I was looking forward to spending 12 days aboard, but many of my fellow passengers had already settled in: I met one couple that had already spent two months on the ship.

It was easy to understand why. Quest is one of the older vessels in Seabourn's fleet, but you wouldn't know it. My stateroom had a balcony, a marble bath with a tub, and a walk-in closet. The spa, with its Serenity Lounge and excellent therapists, was as nice as any I've seen on ships of this size. A new restaurant, called Solis, had chic decor and a tableside tiramisu that I loved.

As I hung out one day in Seabourn Square, a central social space that serves as a coffee bar, library, and lounge, I kept striking up conversations with guests and staff alike. I realized that, far more than the fine finishes on board, it's the friendly, familial vibe that Seabourn cultivates that makes this ship special. It was something I'd never before experienced, even after taking more than 40 cruises around the world.

Perhaps part of the charm was how excited we all were to see Japan, on an intensive itinerary that would take us to eight ports before ending in Yokohama, just outside Tokyo. At our first stop after leaving Kobe, we dressed in white robes (hakui) and cone-shaped bamboo hats (sugegasa) to visit two of the 88 Buddhist temples on the Shikoku Pilgrimage route. It's said that if you visit all the shrines on this 1,200-year-old trail, you're guaranteed good fortune. I know I felt fortunate to be strolling through the tranquil gardens of Ryozenji temple, admiring ponds of floating lotus flowers and gliding koi, soothed by the scent of incense, and enchanted by the sonorous peals of bells.

How different was our next stop, Takamatsu, where we docked just 20 minutes' walk from the bustling shopping district Marugame-Machi. I was surprised to find Halloween celebrations in full swing—albeit a few days early—with a seemingly endless wave of costumed children, parents, and pets trick-or-treating through the arcade. I congratulated myself for recognizing the retailer Muji, despite the fact that its name was written in Japanese characters, and happily dropped some yen on clothing and shoes from now-global Japanese brands such as Uniqlo and Onitsuka Tiger.

In Sakaiminato, I spent a sunny afternoon strolling along Mizuki Shigeru Road, which is named for the manga artist who makes his home here, admiring the more than 150 whimsical bronze statues of his fantastic characters that line the route. In Tsuruga, I was exploring on my own—and touched by the kindness of a shopkeeper who insisted on walking me to the nearby temple rather than simply offering directions. It was the first of several times on my trip that I was on the receiving end of Japanese graciousness and hospitality. In Akita, at the Kanto Festival Center, I captured countless photos of the elegant kimono-clad geisha who served tea to a group of us from the ship.

I was so fascinated by everything I was seeing and doing that it wasn't until late in my trip that I realized: I hadn't seen a glimpse of the fall color I had come for!

Thankfully, we had one final stop, the city of Hakodate, on the island of Hokkaidō. En route to Ōnuma Quasi-National Park, my hopes rose as city streets gave way to a ribbon of highway bordered by forested hills in every imaginable shade of yellow, orange, and brown. Once at the park—a natural playground with three large lakes connected by 18 arched bridges—our guide directed our attention to Mount Komagatake, a volcano in the distance. But I was focused on a more proximate attraction: the variegated leaves beneath my sneakered feet.

Kicking them as I walked revealed sunny yellow hues and amber tones, older leaves edged in chocolate brown, newer ones still showing glimpses of summer's green. The last time I'd seen such splendor was as a child growing up in England. And now, as an adult, the combination of the distinctly vegetal scent in the air and the sight of tree branches laden with trembling red leaves, bent as if to kiss the rippling lakes, made me feel giddy with joy. I whipped out my tripod and remote shutter to memorialize the moment. My Instagram video wasn't exactly made for TV, but it still felt like a fantasy.

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