Shizuoka, Japan: 古民家カフェ いつつの森 「Ittsu no Mori 」

It was one of those days when you randomly stumble upon a place that ends up shifting something in you. We’d set off on a long drive from Atami to Kyoto (after having just come from Tokyo to Atami the days before), with no idea where we’d land for our first meal of the day.

We had to leave our Airbnb at 10am sharp—strict rules, no exceptions—and soon found ourselves somewhere near the Fuji area. I took a quick glance at the map, picked a spot that looked promising, and off we went. But when we got there… there was no place to be found. Was Google Maps wrong all along? We circled the area a couple of times, confused, until we realised: maybe the restaurant wasn’t on the same level of ground at all. Since we can’t read Japanese, it took us a while to notice a little sign pointing up a ramp. We followed it—and sure enough, we found the entrance.

I was practicing my very limited Japanese to ask for a table for four, when a warm, smiling woman approached us—speaking great English. We were surprised, especially given how remote the area was. In places like this, you usually hit a language barrier—but somehow, it always works out.

She was so welcoming, and I immediately had this feeling: we were in the right place, at the right time. I couldn’t help but wonder about her—where she’d travelled, what her life was like. My theory is, if someone greets you with that much warmth, it’s because they live a warm life.

She patiently walked us through the menu. When I asked if we could grill our own food, she lit up and said yes—then moved us to a special room just for it. Throughout the meal, she kept checking in, asking where we were from, and if we knew any Japanese. We told her we’d tried to learn back in Lisbon last year, and knew just the basics. She was genuinely delighted to hear that.

And the food? Absolutely delicious. Everything was locally sourced—to the point that, as we left, we saw one of the chefs snipping leaves off a tree just outside. It was wholesome, heartwarming even. Eating such beautiful food in what felt like the middle of nowhere, welcomed so kindly by strangers—it reminded me how deeply human those small, serendipitous moments can be.