20-05-2025
How Japan perfected ‘the art of waiting' – the ideal antidote to modern life
Tokyo hums with arcade bells and neon lights, commuters bustling past one another at speed. But look closer and a gentler rhythm appears: silent platforms, orderly queues.
This is gaman, the Japanese philosophy of patience. Instilled from childhood, it has carried Japan through its gravest moments, from Hiroshima to post-war rebuilding.
For those of us raised on urgency and instant reward, Japan offers a quiet challenge: to find beauty in restraint.
Here, you don't need to seek gaman – it finds you. At Ekoin temple, Koyasan, nestled among towering cedar trees and centuries-old wooden walls, it's woven into every ritual.
Tatami rooms face mossy courtyards. Vines trace the stone paths, and incense drifts through cedar halls.
During a 24-hour stay , guests practice meditation, attend a fire ceremony and eat nourishing vegetarian meals.
Sean – who, at 22, is one of the temple's youngest monks – speaks softly as he offers me a seat. 'It's about discipline, self-control and an inward patience,' he says.
'If you're patient with yourself, you become patient with others.'
Perhaps it's this quiet discipline that equipped Japan – a sliver of land in the Pacific, where 125 million people co-exist on just 30 per cent of its terrain – with the confidence to endure, and to thrive.
Gaman shapes the culinary experience, too. Ramen. Sushi. Matcha. Japan's staples. At Men-Ya Inoichi in Kyoto, a Michelin-star ramen joint where a bowl costs around £10, diners begin to queue for lunch as early as 10.30am, receive a ticket at 11, and return at 12.30. Instead of boredom, there's a quiet thrill. Appetite sharpens, as does anticipation.
When the ramen is finally served – Wagyu beef, rich in umami and fish flakes – it is even more satisfying. Each bite feels earned.
For something more refined, Sushi Atsuya in Osaka offers a two-hour, 20-course omakase experience where diners surrender their discretion to the chef. Patience is part of the art. Thirty one years into his craft, the chef glides through the room with the same precision as he slices the salmon. Diners observe every flick of the knife and brush of soy in near silence. Every bite is savoured; every pause, deliberate. You wait. You watch. You taste.
In an age where choice is abundant, omakase lets you fall into the arms of a master chef and defer control. A release also echoed throughout the traditional tea ceremony, where ritual, not whim, leads the way. At Gion Tea House in Kyoto, guests dress in kimonos and slippers, kneel beside the instructor, and are guided through a three part process: sweets to stir the appetite, matcha whisked to a froth, and a final bow of quiet gratitude.
Each gesture flows with intention, intuitive and precise, forming a melodic rhythm: the rise of steam, the gentle dripping of water, the brushing of the whisk. When the tea is finally sipped, it's earthy and restorative, its warmth magnified by the unhurried ritual that precedes it. A teabag and kettle will never feel quite the same.
In Tokyo, Hamarikyu Gardens offers another opportunity for gaman. Amidst the high-rises sits a traditional tea house on a lake. Shoes are taken off and stacked neatly by the door; green tea and Japanese pancakes are served. Inside, there's no sense of urgency, only hushed conversation. An old couple sip their tea in quiet unison, leaving the city's hustle behind.
Leaving the tea house, Tokyo's frenetic energy hits immediately. Street food scents and flashing billboards mock your attempt at gaman. But just a thirty-minute walk away lies Zojoji Temple, where tranquillity perseveres and self discipline dismisses distraction.
The stairs are lined with visitors, waiting equidistant, like figures in a diorama. Inside, a reprieve from the thrumming crowd. Incense swirls and a golden Buddha draws bowed heads and a moment of reflection.
Beyond the capital in Hakone's hot springs, time slows down. At Laforet Hakone Gora Yunosumika, private onsens bathe in sun-dappled light surrounded by forested peaks and crisp mountain air. Each room includes an open-air tub. Skin softens, the mind clears. There's no doom-scrolling; it would feel sacrilegious, like ordering a cheeseburger at an omakase. All senses are anchored to the present, absorbing the natural symphony: the sweet hum of the Japanese nightingale, the cool wind and swirling cocoon of steam.
In a society governed by speed, gaman offers a rare interlude. Time stretches, unfolding patiently, and delay becomes a welcomed opportunity to practice inner mastery.
At first, it may chafe against instinct. But as you yield – in each sip of tea, slow queue and stretch of silence – life grows more vivid, its richness quietly sneaking up on you.
Essentials
Mandarin Oriental, Tokyo offers doubles from £1,040 per night. British Airways flies from London Heathrow to Tokyo Narita from £1,336 return. Sushi Atsuya 's two-hour omakase experience costs from £57 per person; Ekoin temple, Koyasan offers stays from £110 per person, including meals and ceremonies; tea ceremonies at Gion Tea House are priced from £32; Laforet Hakone Gora Yunosumika has private rooms from £195 per night.
