Wading Through Wrestlers and Wasabi

Real fish, digital fish, and a few deflated egos.

In July, my family of nine headed out on our furthest journey yet: Japan. Four teens, four adults, and one grandmother, off to explore the cities, the mountains, the culture, the food, and the traditions of a place none of us had ever seen together.

Here’s the thing, though: I booked a guided tour. Yes, I can design the perfect trip for our family myself — but then I would be in charge, and there is nothing like family (or a group chat we’ve unironically named Smack Chat) to keep you humble. So instead, we revisited Tauck — this time on a land journey rather than a river cruise.

We each came home with a different favorite, but I think the one thing all nine of us would agree on is that Japan somehow had something for everyone. Between Tokyo’s energy, Hakone’s slower pace, Kyoto’s centuries-old traditions, and countless unforgettable experiences along the way, each of us found our own version of Japan. Somewhere in the middle of it all, we found ourselves in a sumo ring, wading through digital waterfalls, and butchering sushi rolls with real enthusiasm.

Naturally, the logical place to begin our cultural immersion was in a sumo ring.

We weren’t able to catch an actual tournament, but we did enjoy lunch and a demonstration, learning all about the life of a sumo wrestler — including the fact that they consume roughly 10,000 calories a day. Then we got to the good stuff: audience members donned inflatable sumo suits and took on the pros.

First up was one of our teenagers, who got humbled quickly. Then came the smaller kids, and the wrestlers toyed with them, occasionally even letting them win. Finally came the tweens and teens, who were simply prey — doing their best to survive against these hilarious, gentle giants.

The confidence level started high. It did not end that way.

It was one of those experiences that had every generation laughing at exactly the same thing, and months later, it is still one of the moments everyone brings up first.

Fortunately, our next activity required a little less physical strength and a little more finesse.

You can’t go to Japan and not try your hand at making sushi. Spoiler: you will probably be pretty bad at it, even if you manage a presentable roll.

Sushi chefs spend years — yes, years — perfecting something as fundamental as the rice, so nine amateurs were never going to walk in and match them. Under the guidance of a sushi chef and his very patient assistants, we shopped for our own ingredients at Tsukiji Fish Market before heading back to roll our creations.

The chef expertly sliced the fish and rolled his sushi in seconds flat. We overstuffed ours like burritos and watched them fall apart in real time.

The whole session was filled with laughter, friendly competition, and flying rice — some of it, regrettably, still stuck to the ceiling by the time we left.

Tokyo still had one more surprise for us: TeamLab Planets, a digital museum you don’t just view — you immerse yourself in.

One section has you wading through rushing water, past ponds of digital fish, right up to a waterfall’s edge. Another is filled with oversized, glow-in-the-dark bouncy balls where I am fairly certain some of the smaller kids had to run for their lives.

The immature among us — and to be clear, that’s my husband, not the teens — took great delight in using those balls to take out said teens whenever the opportunity presented itself.

Between the LED lights reflecting all around you, a walk through a “jungle” where the animals roam free, and orchids that move as if they’re breathing, it was a sensory experience unlike anything we’d experienced before. Watching teenagers, parents, and grandparents react with the same childlike wonder may have been the exhibit’s greatest trick.

By the end of the trip, everyone had a favorite moment, and nobody agreed on what it was. Smack Chat had plenty to say about that — a few photo reenactments, one lingering debate about who actually won the sumo match, and enough inside jokes to last well beyond the flight home.

As for handing over the cruise-director badge, I’d do it again in a heartbeat. There is a version of me that could have built this itinerary myself, hour by hour, and there is a version of this trip where I actually got to enjoy it, sumo suit and all. I chose the second one, and I think that was exactly the right choice.

Planning your own multigenerational trip?

Tell me a little about your travelers and your hopes, and I’ll personally be in touch.