Sapporo

There is a distinct, wide-open feeling to Sapporo that sets it apart from the rest of Japan. It’s a city that was built with a sense of space—broad, tree-lined boulevards and a grid-like layout that feels almost North American, but with a soul that is purely Hokkaido.

If you arrive in the winter, the city transforms into a crystalline fantasy. I’m not just talking about the famous Snow Festival in Odori Park, where blocks of ice become towering cathedrals; it’s the way the city hums beneath the surface. To escape the chill, locals dive into the “Pole Town” underground walkways, but the real warmth is found in a steaming bowl of Sapporo Miso Ramen. There’s a tiny alleyway called Ganso Sapporo Ramen Yokocho—you’ll know you’ve found it when you see the steam rising into the night air. Sitting on a wooden stool in a shop that barely fits six people, watching the chef toss noodles in a wok, is the ultimate Sapporo experience.

When the snow melts, the city turns a brilliant, lush green. A short trip to the Shiroi Koibito Park feels like walking into a European fairy tale, while the historic Sapporo Beer Museum tells the story of how the city’s most famous export helped put it on the map. For the best view of the town, you’ve got to take the ropeway up Mount Moiwa. As the sun sets, the city lights begin to twinkle like a spilled box of jewels against the dark backdrop of the Ishikari Plain. It’s the kind of place that reminds you that Japan is just as much about rugged, frontier spirit as it is about ancient shrines.