KEY TAKEAWAYS

• How can I make good friends in Japan?

• Where can I go to meet Japanese and International friends in Japan?

• Which is the best way to meet friends in Tokyo who are cool?

• What is the safest way to meet friends in Japan?

FRIENDS ARE HARD TO FIND IN TOKYO. SOLUTIONS FOUND

Daniel TJ International Correspondent Tokyo, Japan

I’ll be honest with you, one of the hardest parts of living in Japan—at least for me—was figuring out how to actually meet people.

You know, the kind of people you could hang out with on the weekend, laugh with, share a plate of food, and maybe even go on some wild adventure together.

Work colleagues are great, neighbors are fine, but I wanted more than polite nods and surface-level conversations.

That’s how I stumbled into something I didn’t even know I was missing: these Savvy Adventure Weekend Blasts.

The name sounds a little over the top, but the vibe? Surprisingly real. And that’s where I found a little community tucked into the most unexpected corners of Japan.

The first thing that pulled me in was the hiking trip. I’ll admit, I’m not exactly a hardcore mountain hiker. I wasn’t showing up in fancy gear with walking sticks and some high-tech hydration pack.

I was just me, in my sneakers, hoping I wouldn’t embarrass myself by running out of breath ten minutes into the climb. But the thing is, it didn’t matter.

Everyone there was in the same boat—people just looking for a good time, a little challenge, and, let’s be honest, some new friends.

We hiked up these winding trails where the air actually smells like pine and fresh dirt instead of exhaust fumes. I found myself talking to this guy from Spain about his favorite Japanese curry shop while we were catching our breath halfway up.

It wasn’t forced, it wasn’t awkward—it just felt easy. By the time we made it to the top, sweaty and laughing, I felt like I’d known these people for way longer than a couple of hours.

Photography tours around Tokyo turned out to be a whole different kind of magic. If you’ve ever walked around this city, you know it’s buzzing with little hidden treasures: narrow alleyways glowing with lanterns, reflections on rainy streets, random shrines tucked between skyscrapers.

Going on a photo walk with other people who also noticed those details—it made me see the city in a completely new way.

I remember standing near Shibuya Crossing with this woman from Canada who had this ancient-looking film camera.

She was crouching down to get this shot of the neon lights reflecting in a puddle, and she kind of waved me over, like, “Look at this angle.”

And I thought, this is the kind of friendship that forms in the most random, genuine moments. We ended up grabbing coffee afterwards, flipping through the photos we’d taken like little kids comparing trading cards. That’s the kind of connection I’d been missing—simple, unpolished, and real.

Then there are the restaurant nights, which, honestly, might be my favorite part. Picture this: a group of people crammed around a table, plates of yakitori skewers and bowls of ramen passing back and forth, everyone laughing too loudly, chopsticks clinking against glasses of beer.

It’s not about some fancy five-star place—it’s the atmosphere. I remember this one night we ended up in a tiny izakaya in Shinjuku. There were about ten of us, and we basically took over the whole back corner.

People were swapping stories about where they grew up, trying to figure out which dishes were safe for the vegetarians, and at some point, the staff actually joined in and taught us a drinking cheer.

You don’t sit in silence at these dinners—you end up leaning across the table, learning phrases in Japanese, and half the time, the conversation slips between English and Japanese so naturally that you forget who’s from where.

What makes all of this work, I think, is that there’s no pressure. It’s not like an English lesson where you’re worried about grammar or being corrected.

Sure, you might practice a little English with your new Japanese friends, and they might practice some English with you, but it doesn’t feel like “study.” It feels like sharing.

A Japanese friend might ask you how to say something, and five minutes later you’re asking them how to order another round of drinks without sounding like a tourist.

There’s laughter when someone stumbles over a word, but it’s the good kind—the kind that pulls you in, not pushes you away.

I met this guy from Osaka who confessed his English was “terrible,” but by the end of the night, he was telling this hilarious story about his grandmother’s cooking in broken but totally understandable English.

Everyone was cheering him on. That kind of encouragement? You can’t fake it.

The beauty of these weekends is that you never really know what’s going to happen, but you can be sure it’ll be something worth remembering. I once joined a mountain trip where we all got caught in a sudden downpour.

Instead of panicking, we ended up laughing like idiots, soaked through, sliding around in the mud like kids.

When we finally reached a rest area, dripping wet and shivering, someone pulled out snacks from their backpack like it was a treasure chest, and we shared them like we’d been friends for years.

Another time, after a photo walk in Asakusa, we somehow ended up at a karaoke place. Half of us couldn’t sing to save our lives, but it didn’t matter.

There we were, belting out 80s hits with people from five different countries, cheering each other on like it was the grand finale of a world tour.

I think what surprises me most is how these experiences blur the lines between “friends you just met” and “friends you’ve known forever.”

There’s something about sweating through a hike, or squatting in the rain trying to get that perfect camera shot, or clinking glasses of sake over shared plates that makes the connection real fast.

It’s like skipping the awkward small talk phase and jumping straight into the good stuff. And it’s not just about having fun in the moment—some of these people I still hang out with outside of the events.

We’ll message each other about new hikes coming up, or plan little side trips, or just meet for coffee when we’re in the same part of town.

What I’ve realized is that it’s not just about the activity—it’s about the people who show up. Everyone there has the same intention: to meet others, to share an adventure, to feel a little less alone in this big, sometimes overwhelming country.

There’s this unspoken understanding that we’re all in this together. And when you mix that with the beauty of Japan—whether it’s the mountains, the neon streets of Tokyo, or the smoky coziness of a local restaurant—you get something kind of unforgettable.

So yeah, if you’re looking for something more than just a night scrolling your phone or another solo weekend wandering through the city, these Savvy Adventure Weekend Blasts are worth it.

They’re not polished, not perfect, and that’s exactly why they work. You don’t need to be a pro hiker, a skilled photographer, or a foodie with a fancy palate.

You just need to show up, be open, and let the connections happen.

Contact SavvyJapan-Today for information on our next adventure!

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