In Miyako, I guess "We Mattered"
- Paul Hallman
- Apr 18
- 7 min read
We rolled into Miyako, Japan the way all great explorers do these days. Not by conquering anything, but by stepping off a cruise ship, mildly confused about what day it is and fully committed to snacks.
The moment we arrived, the shoreline looked like it was hosting a festival in our honor. A welcoming group was out there singing, dancing and waving enormous flags with the kind of enthusiasm usually reserved for championship parades and surprise celebrity sightings.
If you told me they’d been practicing choreography for weeks just for our arrival, I would have believed you. We hadn’t even set foot on land yet and Miyako was already making us feel like we were the headline act.
Our plan was simple—almost suspiciously simple. Later in the morning we’d catch the shuttle into town, stroll the main area, maybe find something charming and local and be back with plenty of time. You know: a calm, sensible day.
At 10:00 a.m., we set off with our trusty travel party, Chris and Scott and shuttled into town with a bus load of passengers ready to spend the day in the town. First stop - a McDonalds bench to catch a breath and give Ronald a cuddle or two. No McMuffin nor Coffee. Just a breath or two!
Miyako immediately felt like a real working coastal city—quietly busy, practical and surrounded by that rugged Sanriku coastline that looks like it was designed by an artist who only works in dramatic cliffs and ocean blues. This part of the city sits along the Sanriku Coast, famous for its jagged “ria” shoreline—deep inlets and steep edges where the sea seems to carve the land into a thousand scenic angles. It’s beautiful in that “wow, nature is showing off again” kind of way. There were beaches, caves and lookouts to see in town but we chose to stay within the town itself.
Within minutes of arriving, Scott and I realized we had an urgent cultural mission: we needed haircuts. Not “sometime soon” haircuts. “If we take one more photo, history will judge us” haircuts.
So we did what any confident travelers do—we asked the local welcomers where a barber shop was. They pointed us in a direction with the kind of certainty that made it seem like the barber shop was not only nearby, but possibly a sacred community landmark. Go around the block, pass the city hall and then walk past McDonalds - there will be a barber close by.
Off we went, following their directions like we were on a quest. And sure enough, we found it: a barber shop with six barbers, which in my mind immediately became “The Six Samurai of Grooming.” They offered everything—haircuts, beard trims, shaving and something that sounded like it might include a hot towel, a facial massage and a minor spiritual awakening. The “full monty” was on the menu, and it felt like we’d stumbled into the grooming equivalent of a luxury spa… except it was just a normal place in town where people casually go to look fantastic.
But as we walked down the street Chris spotted a ladies salon and said—without hesitation—“I’m going there to get my hair cut too.” The confidence. The boldness. The sheer refusal to be limited by signage. Jan took one look and decided, yes, actually, that sounded like a great idea. So now our group had split into two teams: Team Barber and Team Salon, each convinced they were making the superior choice.
For the guys it was a spa like treatment, but for the gals they had a unique 15 minute hair wash routine, head and neck massage and then a return to the salon chair with two attendants drying their hair. It was the Japanese special attention to detail and unlimited personal treatment for everyone.
Fast forward a bit and—plot twist—everyone won. All four of us emerged with fabulous hair treatments. The men paid about $15 USD each, the gals about $25 USD each, and we all agreed it was as good as, or better than, anything we’d ever had. Honestly, it felt like we’d hacked the system. If Miyako offered haircuts that good at those prices, we briefly considered canceling the rest of the cruise and moving into town as full-time “haircut tourists.”
So here are the after shots of a Japanese Hair styling day in Mayorka for Jan and Paul.
This was what I asked my "barber" when I sat in the chair. I was nervous because all the barbers were cutting local clients with typical Bowl like hair styles and using a razor. However, my pro understood my request and used scissors only and was very particular about every single hair. I am thankful for Google Translate.
Feeling fresh, we wandered down the street looking for lunch. We saw a restaurant and thought, “Ah yes, Japanese food, perfect.” We went in, sat down and tried to translate the menu using Google. Google, however, chose that moment to act like it had never heard of any language before. Nothing worked. That’s when we realized the truth: it was a Chinese restaurant… in Japan.
Which, honestly, felt very on-brand for our day. We ordered anyway, because at this point we were committed to the adventure. We also ordered three beers, because nothing says “we’re doing great” like ordering beer while you’re not entirely sure what you just ordered for lunch. The dinners we ordered accompanied the beer order and they delivered it quickly.
Don't all four of us look pretty with our new haircuts ?
When the food arrived it was really good—like, “we would come back again” good. We ate happily, congratulating ourselves on being spontaneous world travelers who fear nothing, not even menus.
Then we went to pay...... "Dum Dah Dum Dum.... Drum Roll please".........
They don't accept credit cards only Japanese Yen
We checked our cash - we had some Yen and lots of US$
But we didn't have enough Yen
The bill was about 12,700 Yen which is $80 USD for the four of us. We had 7,000 Yen but no more. So we were short about $36 US. Then we did that quiet, panicked math that happens when you realize you’ve entered the “this is now a situation” portion of the day.
We tried to explain, apologizing and offering solutions. The manager came over, listened, smiled, bowed, and—like she was handing us a gift bag at a party—said it was okay. She thanked us politely and said, “Gift.”
A Gift.
We tried to give her U.S. dollars to make up the difference. She refused. We tried again. She refused again. She bowed, smiled, and basically radiated the kind of kindness that makes you want to immediately become a better person. We had no choice but to leave, bowing and saying thank you so many times that I’m pretty sure we hit our lifetime quota.
Still stunned, we walked back to the shuttle bus and caught the last one to the ship at 2:30, because the ship was scheduled to leave at 3:30. We made it back with that triumphant feeling of people who have survived a minor international incident and lived to tell the tale.
We left the restaurant and walked back to our shuttle bus and on the way back we passed a Tram Rebuilding plant and some locals planting their gardens.
There was a mural on the wall that created a 3 dimensional image of the scenic area around the city so I took a few shots trying to capture the effect they portrayed.
Back at the port, the locals had set up a large market for visitors. Even though we didn’t buy anything, it was genuinely thoughtful—another reminder that Miyako’s welcome wasn’t just a performance; it was hospitality. This region has a deep connection to the sea and to community, and it shows.
The Sanriku Coast has also been shaped by powerful tsunamis over the years and Miyako is known not only for its scenery but for its resilience and remembrance—places here carry stories and the people carry them with grace. I was able to get photos of the concrete wall they have to slow down a Tsunami. It includes doors that close to block any wall of water that would attempt to hit the town.
We boarded the ship, went to our room and sat on the balcony watching the locals entertain everyone for about 45 minutes. Singing, dancing, flags waving—like they were determined to send us off properly, even if we’d only managed a haircut, a surprise lunch and a life lesson in generosity.
Local markets and food trucks set up at the port for passengers
Then, at 4:00—when our ship was scheduled to leave—the captain came on and announced a mechanical problem. We suspected a thruster. The ship stayed put for another hour and a half while they fixed it. But honestly? After the day we’d had, it felt like Miyako wasn’t done with us yet.
Chris and Scott came to our room and we turned the delay into a mini celebration: cheese platter, hummus, champagne with orange juice and a game of Racko. If you can’t sail away on time, you might as well snack like champions.
After the game they left for dinner and we went to the Horizon for ours, then later hit the Explorers Lounge for a music trivia game—where we lost, bravely and without mercy. Then it was back to the room to get ready for another day in Japan.
Tomorrow we’ll be in Aomori and it’ll be our second-to-last day in this country. And somehow, even though we “didn’t do much” today, we did a lot: we got welcomed like celebrities, got world-class haircuts for pocket change, ate a great meal we couldn’t translate, got rescued by a manager’s unbelievable kindness and watched a whole town wave us off like we mattered.
Miyako didn’t just give us a port day. It gave us a story!
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