An Unforgettable Day in Japan: Tea Ceremony, Tempura, and the Magic of Tradition

Lunch

As soon as I arrived, it became immediately clear that this lunch was about much more than just eating. It was a crash course in Japanese etiquette and deep appreciation for what comes to the table. Admittedly, I was five minutes late – but it was forgiven because the mood was just right.

First, we learned the basics: how to hold chopsticks? It was explained that you must not touch the lower end of the chopsticks – because it is unhygienic and unclean. But the chopsticks were later introduced to us in another way: the chopsticks represent – in an almost poetic way – a connection between what we eat and what dies on the plate, only to release new life and new energy in us.

There was also the typical wet towel that was handed to us before the meal – not for the face, but to symbolically clean our hands. Already with these first rituals, I realized: this is about more than just eating; it is about respect, mindfulness, and the deep-rooted meaning of each individual ritual.

The lunch itself was a feast for the senses. Two different broths, perfectly cooked rice, tender sashimi, and of course tempura – which is considered an absolute masterpiece in Fukuoka. Tempura in Japan has something magical: it is crispy and at the same time so tender that you almost forget that it is fried food. But above all, the way we celebrated the food turned the whole process into an almost spiritual experience.

I was particularly impressed by how we were told that the fish is dipped in a special bone marrow soy sauce before serving – a small act of culinary finesse that adds depth to the dish. Every bite became a moment of discovery, and I couldn't help but smile when I thought about how ironic it all was: despite my man flu, I enjoyed every bite as if it were a small celebration meant to cheer me up.

Making Sweets

After lunch, we moved to an adjoining room where another highlight of Japanese culture awaited us: the joint crafting of small sweets – rice flour balls that we shaped into delicate cherry blossoms. Since my childhood, a small creative vein has flowed in me, which I inherited from my grandmother and mother – drawing, painting, crafting. But today, something completely different was on the agenda: the "mochi balls," and of course, I put in a lot of effort.

At our small tables, we kneaded the dough, rolled it, and shaped it into small works of art, some more or less. It was amazing how a simple dough made of sugar and rice could become a symbol of spring and transience in our hands – a single cherry blossom that said more than a whole bouquet. I was proud of my little work, even though it was far from the perfection that the tea master herself showed.

The Way to the Tea House

After we had finished our own little sweets, we were led by a group of elegantly dressed women in kimonos through a secret passage inaccessible to the public. At the end of this passage awaited the tea house – a place that impresses not only with its history but also with its extraordinary architecture. The tea house, whose construction was estimated at 20 million yen (120 thousand euros), is a real unique piece from the past and rarely found in Europe.

Before we entered the tea house, important details were explained to us again: the doors hung deliberately low to symbolize that everyone who enters must bow – a sign of humility. This gesture reminded of the old samurai who had to lay down their swords to bow. Here, in this tea house, everyone was equal – whether samurai or guest, here only respect for tradition counted.

I entered the tea house first – not because I was the best at the sweets, but simply because I was sitting in seat 1. There, the tea master personally welcomed me and explained how I should behave. I had to bow, not only before the single, magnificent cherry blossom that stood before me but also before a calligraphy hanging on the wall. This calligraphy, she explained, carried the spirit of the artist within it – and therefore it was appropriate to show respect to it. So I knelt down, let my gaze wander over the blossom, and bowed in silent reverence according to the rules of bowing.

The Tea Ceremony

Once everyone had taken their seats in the tea house and an atmosphere of silence and respect had settled in, the actual tea ceremony began. We got our sweets back and ate them now.

While others might have only superficially examined their sweets and tried a few bites, I enjoyed every single bite as if it were a unique moment. These small balls were more than just sweets – they were symbols of the moment in which imperfection and the present moment merged.

The tea master entered, accompanied by her teacher, and guided us into the traditional practice. We were precisely explained how to drink the tea: first, you thank the tea master, then you take the tea cup in your hand – always in such a way that you never get the most beautiful spot to your lips. Because this spot, we were told, is dedicated to the craftsmanship of the cup.

I was the first to go, as I was sitting in seat 1. Of course, I couldn't just drink the tea – I had to turn it a bit first so as not to sip at the most magnificent spot. After I had almost finished drinking the tea, I took the last sip consciously and audibly, then wiped the rim of the cup with my thumb and forefinger and made an honest compliment. Because only through such words of appreciation should the tea master tell us more about the origin and history of the tea.

Every step of the ceremony was a reflection of the mindfulness and deep respect that Japanese culture has for food and art. The tea itself was more than just a drink – it was a small, living work of art that reminded us to live in the here and now and to fully enjoy the moment.

The Atmosphere

With every moment I spent in this tea house, I became more and more aware of how much this experience touched me. It was not just a cultural event, but a profound moment in which I immersed myself in the Japanese soul. I have always understood myself as a creative person – whether painting, writing, or in film – but this day lifted me to a new level of self-awareness.

I often thought about how funny it is: despite the man flu and all the little mishaps of the day, I was in the middle of an experience that went far beyond the ordinary. While others might only admire the outer splendor of tradition, I felt the inner rhythm and the silent power that was in every ritual. It was about respect, humility, and the art of consciously experiencing every moment – whether it was holding the chopsticks correctly, carefully crafting mochi balls, or silently bowing in the tea house.

The combination of exquisite tempura, fine sashimi, the artistic crafting of sweets, and the profound tea ceremony gave the day an almost poetic note. Every bite, every sip of tea, and every gesture was a testament to the fact that in Japan, tradition and modernity, art and everyday life are seamlessly intertwined.

A Look into the Future

As the day gradually comes to an end, a feeling of gratitude and inspiration remains in me. Today, I began to think about how long one actually has to be a tea master – how much time and dedication are required to truly master this art. I realized that the tea ceremony is not just about technical skills, but above all about the attitude one takes towards oneself and the world.

Questions like: "Do only women or only men do this?" or "When are you allowed to serve guests?" were also in the room. Fortunately, I was able to ask these questions to the tea master on site. Traditionally, only men were allowed as guests in tea houses. Nowadays, however, this is long past – here, respect for the art of tea drinking counts, regardless of gender.

For me, this day was a real wake-up call. I learned that life is not always about striving for success or achieving goals – sometimes it is the moment of pausing that shows us how beautiful life can be.

Conclusion

This day of balance was more than just delicious for me – it really inspired me. From the first tips on how to hold chopsticks correctly to the tea house, where every gesture was a sign of humility, I took something with me that goes far beyond just eating and drinking. It was about respect, living in the moment, and appreciating every little moment.

Although my man flu almost paralyzed me at the beginning, I realized that such a day can still be a really good day. The combination of delicious tempura, fine sashimi, lovingly crafted mochi balls, and the intense tea ceremony showed me that in Japanese culture, every gesture, every moment, and every tradition has its own very special meaning.

Now I look forward to the future with anticipation and am excited to see what other cultural treasures I will encounter in Japan.

Until then!