A foreigner gradually engages with Tokyo, step by step, coming to understand the distinctions between the many "Tokyos" that constitute this city. At first, they may only be familiar with a few landmarks, such as the major railway stations. Yet, over time, they begin to discover the smaller spaces that lie in between. It is fascinating to consider how knowledge accumulates over the years of learning the city.

This translated quote is from architect Kengo Kuma, in conversation with urban historian Jinnai Hidenobu and Professor of Architecture and Urban Design Darko Radović. Earlier in their discussion, featured in Small Tokyo: Measuring the Non-Measurable, Radović spoke of the initial thrill of immersion in a foreign city, describing it as an experience that offers no promise of comprehension.

As I write about Tokyo, I’m conscious that even extensive prior reading cannot fully prepare us for the reality of encountering a city for the first time. This is not a shortcoming—forming your first impressions is a one-time opportunity, a privilege that nothing can take away.

And then, there you are. Exploring the city to the best of your ability is your prerogative. At this point, the knowledge you’ve gathered begins to take effect, enriching and broadening your experience. While insight alone cannot alleviate the discomfort of navigating new cultural encounters and practical challenges—nor should it, in my view—it can help make sense of and lend meaning to that friction. The more time we spend learning the city, the more naturally our appreciation deepens.

Most visitors to Tokyo lack the time to learn the city first-hand beyond the essentials. A ten-day holiday passes in a blur, a rapid succession of events. Paradoxically, so does a one-year sojourn. When I first moved to Tokyo, I planned to stay for a year before moving on to another global metropolis, aspiring to be a digital nomad—a novel concept at the time. Yet, after that year, I felt I had only just completed basic training, with much more still to accomplish.