A night at a traditional Japanese inn offers a glimpse into the daily rituals of life in times gone by. The etiquette can be confusing, so here are the rules to remember when staying à la Japonaise.
Famous for good Japanese food and drink, relaxation and their hot spas, a stay at a traditional ryokan is an authentic Japanese experience not to be missed. Before you make your booking there are some rules you’ll want to be aware of in advance to avoid offending your ryokan owners and staff.
When entering an onsen or ryokan, make sure you’re aware of the etiquette required to avoid raised eyebrows.
1. Arrival time
It’s customary for most ryokans to receive their guests in the late afternoon to coincide with dinner schedules (they like to serve it on time at 6 pm and as soon as it is cooked so that you eat it fresh), and because most ryokans are family-run businesses. This helps them ensure the reception is manned for your arrival. You’ll have time to unwind after your journey with a cup of tea and a hot bath. You’ll find tiny bowl-like teacups (known as chawan teacups) in your room with packets of complimentary tea that are restocked by the staff regularly.
Pour yourself a hot tea in the tiny bowl-like teacups (known as chawan teacups).
2. Shoes off
Upon entering a ryokan you are required to take off your shoes and don the slippers provided at the genkan, the traditional entryway, before stepping up into the inn proper. It’s considered very dirty and offensive to fail to take your shoes off beforehand. Once you reach your room you’ll have to remove the slippers too.
Be sure to take your shoes off and put on the supplied slippers.
3. Slippers off
Bedrooms in ryokans have tatami matting on the floor; never walk on it in shoes or slippers, just socks or bare feet. This is considered just as offensive and unclean as wearing your shoes upon entering the inn.
4. Stick to the schedules
As with the arrival time, it is respectful to adhere to the rather rigid schedules in place at most ryokans. Dinner will be served in either your room or the communal dining room by a maid at 6pm, who will clear it away once you’ve finished and set up your futon for you. Most ryokans lock their doors around 10 pm, so leave the nightlife exploration to another night. Breakfast is usually served at 8 am and checkout is at 10 am.
Breakfast is usually served at 8 am in most ryokans, followed by checkout at 10 am.
5. Day and night differences
Rooms are set for day and night time use, with a low table and zaisu (a chair with no legs) placed in the middle of the room during the day, and a comfy futon laid out for sleeping on at night. You’ll have a small grain-filled pillow. The maid will arrive in the morning to bring you breakfast and pack up your futon to rearrange the room for the day setting.
Rooms are set for day and night time use with a futon bed that is set up at night.
6. Dress code
Traditional yukata (translation: bathing clothes) are provided in your room; you can wear them in lieu of clothing while you are in residence, to and from the baths and to breakfast and dinner.
A yukata set consists of a lightweight robe, an obi, a yukata jacket and toe socks.
You’ll find the traditional yukata (bathing clothes) provided in your room.
7. Bathing in ryokans
One of the main reasons for a stay at a ryokan is to experience a soak in a Japanese bathtub. Book in your bath time on arrival as they usually operate to a schedule to accommodate all their guests.
Baths are communal and segregated so check your shyness at the door (along with your clothes) and wash yourself thoroughly before entering the bath itself. There will be wash buckets with soap and shampoo to use beforehand; rinse off all soap before getting into the bathtub. The bath water isn’t changed in between guests, so it is important to wash yourself thoroughly and not bring in dirt or water into the communal bathing water.
When you’re ready to get out you can change into a yukata (the cotton kimono that you will need to bring with you from your room).
Ryokan baths are communal and segregated so check your shyness at the door (along with your clothes).
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8. Help maintain the peace and quiet
Treat your stay in a ryokan similar to the way you’d behave at a health retreat. Most people are there to enjoy the peace and embrace the zen. Try to talk quietly and move thoughtfully around your room and within the inn itself to ensure you don’t disturb the other guests.
Ryokans are peaceful places, so be sure to remember that during your stay to avoid offence.
9. Special meal requests aren’t usually available
If you do have any special dietary needs you will need to advise the staff of these when making your booking. They usually aren’t able to make last minute meal changes and don’t accommodate many dietary requests, so keep your expectations low.
Special dietary requirements need to be made in advance of your stay but expect your options to be limited.
10. Don’t expect the staff to speak English
Prepare yourself for a language barrier as very few ryokan staff are able to speak English. Using your hands to sign what you’re trying to communicate can help. You’ll also find there are signs in English posted up on the walls to let you know the rules you need to follow during your stay. In some cases you will need a Japanese-speaking acquaintance to make your booking, as some ryokans don’t like to accept foreign guests unless they are confident you understand the customs required to stay.
It’s not common for ryokan staff to speak English, so be prepared to sign with your hands.
After youth-led protests in 2025, this year Nepal elected a 35-year-old former rapper as Prime Minister. In a country where tourism is its biggest industry, what’s next for travellers?
In 1986, Nepal changed its clock. It had used India Standard Time since 1920 so, to differentiate, it wound its clock 15 minutes ahead of, not behind, its big-brother neighbour. Boss move. “Nepal is strongly opposed to the idea that our identity is connected to India,” says Community Homestay Network (CHN) guide Bikal Khanal.
Tharu dance is traditionally set to hand drums. (Credit: Kate Lewis)
Today, Nepal is the only independent country with a 45-minute deviation to universal time; an oddity that’s become a symbol of national pride. The quirk is nearly as endearing as Kathmandu’s Tribhuvan airport where carved varnished wood and shiny red bricks rule. One sign points to a ‘Travelator’ and another to a ‘Grievance Handling Desk’ while visas are noisily stamped at customs for US dollars, cash only. When am I?
Spot the endemic Nepal gray langur. (Credit: Simon Urwin)
The 15 or 45 minute anomaly sees me tap out completely on timezone calculations. Why bend my brain calculating if it’s quarter to or quarter past elsewhere when I’m in the honking here and now of Kathmandu where the air is high-altitude crisp, the prayer flags flutter and the street dogs howl?
How tourism is changing in Nepal
Bardiya National Park is rich with wildlife. (Credit: Simon Urwin)
India is not the only association many Nepalis would like to shake. With eight of the world’s 10 tallest mountains, including Mount Everest and Annapurna, Nepal has long attracted mountaineers and trekkers, and expedition numbers are continuing to rise.
Tourism is one of the country’s biggest sources of foreign currency, so this growth is not negative, per se. But according to Ang Tshering Lama, who co-founded Phaplu Mountain Bike Club, being reduced to a mere trekking destination is limiting.
“Trekking is just one layer of our identity,” says Ang. “When it becomes the dominant narrative, it limits how we’re seen and how we see ourselves.” Nepal’s recent success, however, in diverting trekkers to less-trafficked areas such as Manaslu mofuntain, where visitor numbers rose by 117 per cent last year, offers hope that tourism can diversify even more radically.
Local men in Bhada village. (Credit: Simon Urwin)
The founder of CHN, Shiva Dhakal, wants that change. “The whole idea of the Community Homestay Network is to promote experiences outside of trekking,” he says. “Community tourism changes lives and helps kids stay home instead of coming to the city or migrating to the Middle East.”
Ang grew up seeing people leave, “not because they wanted to but because there weren’t enough opportunities to stay”, he states. Yet from remote villages to living traditions; food, art, music and emerging subcultures, “there’s so much that’s not being seen.”
CHN is opening some of those doors. It doesn’t own, or fund, any homes. Rather, it promotes homestays to travellers on a single, slick platform, while fostering entrepreneurship in places where women, marginalised castes, Indigenous people and the youth stand to benefit the most.
A new generation demanding more
Dalla Town Hall, where volunteers discuss anti-poaching tactics. (Credit: Bheem Thapa)
The future prospects of next-gen Nepalis can no longer be ignored. On a Kathmandu tour with 33-year-old guide Monica K.C, we pass buildings torched in the September 2025 ‘Gen Z protests’, including the Supreme Court and Parliament House. Seventy-two people died. “They were anti-corruption protests,” says Monica. “Politicians’ children are living a lavish life but the airports are crowded with youngsters leaving to find work.”
We stop in ‘little Tibet’ at the wondrous sixth-century Boudha Stupa. “The wheel of life is Buddhism in a nutshell,” says Monica. “Things such as hate, ignorance and anger keep you rotating around the wheel, so you must follow the principles of Buddhism to detach. If you can’t, there’s no nirvana for you.”
Boudha Stupa’s prayer wheels are used to recite Buddhist prayers. (Credit: Kate Lewis)
In a sun-drenched twist to the usual temple visit, we ascend the stupa’s sloping plinth and roam its whitewashed dome. Tendrils of diaphanous prayer flags stream from a steeple-like structure where the Buddha’s unblinking eyes stare out. No nirvana for you…
Tibetan-style prayer flags embellish the whitewashed dome of Bouda Stupa, a Buddhist temple. (Credit: Kate Hennessy)
The dome is delightfully free of guard rails or chiding from security. There is, however, a stern ‘No TikTok’ sign, perhaps in response to the youth’s newly flexed power. The booted-out Prime Minister, K.P. Sharma Oli, was replaced in a resounding election victory in March by 35-year-old Balendra Shah of the Rastriya Swatantra Party (RSP) – a former rapper and mayor of Kathmandu. The RSP’s manifesto indicates tourism is a priority, and that Nepal’s cultural identity in areas such as gastronomy will be strengthened.
Vibrant souvenir shops and cafes around Boudha Stupa. (Credit: Kate Hennessy)
A more confronting stop awaits at Pashupatinath Temple. Today is Bala Chaturdashi, a Hindu festival where thousands of devotees gather to honour their dead ancestors. Vendors hauling foam mattresses do a lucrative trade as people set up for a night of vigil. This includes burning the bodies of recently deceased relatives on bamboo pyres in the Bagmati River, which flows into the sacred Ganges.
A woman at annual Hindu festival Bala Chaturdashi, in Kathmandu. (Credit: Kate Hennessy)
Wrapped in a shroud, the bodies are positioned with their heads facing north to the Himalayas where Lord Shiva resides. They’re covered with flowers and straw and set alight by male family members.
Hours later, the ashes are swept into the river where devotees will take a holy dip the next day. As much as Monica assures us it’s not voyeuristic to watch, I struggle to do so. “Here you see the reality of life because everyone ends up there,” she says, gesturing to the river.
Life unfiltered in the Terai region
Tharu woman and master weaver Parbati Chaudhary in Bhada Village. (Credit: Bheem Thapa)
The reality of life needs processing time, which the western Terai region delivers in spades. The Terai is largely separated from India by the Karnali River and Bardiya National Park, where elephants, rhinos and the elusive Bengal tiger roam.
Once a nomadic tribe, the Indigenous Tharu people are now the largest ethnic group here. “They didn’t know their daily life was interesting for international travellers but they’re starting to understand now,” says CHN founder Shiva.
Take a Jeep safari through Bardiya National Park. (Credit: Bheem Thapa)
We fly Buddha Air to Dhangadhi airport and drive five hours to stay in Tharu homes. The journey to Bhada village is a blur of roadside fruit stalls, traffic-stopping sacred cows and fields sown with wheat, rice, mustard, spinach, cauliflower and potatoes. Nepal’s agriculture feeds only Nepal.
Marigolds are an important part of Hindu rituals. (Credit: Simon Urwin)
“The only thing we export is young people,” says our guide Bikal. As the light dims and we plunge evermore rural, mysterious mounds of compacted hay – some house-sized – loom like the creatures from Where The Wild Things Are. Even our trusty driver gets flummoxed by a dirt road that abruptly ends and we find ourselves hurtling across a paddock.
On arrival, some are ferried to mud-walled cottages greened by gourd creepers, with thatched roofs and rustic-chic mosquito nets. Myself and two others are ushered to the home of corner store owner, mechanic and mushroom farmer Man Kumar Chilaruwa and his wife Rajkumari.
A warm welcome at a community homestay. (Credit: Simon Urwin)
They escort us to a bunker-esque back building with steel doors and a folding security gate, behind which is gleaming linoleum, dolphin-printed tiles and a shower cavity that must be gingerly stepped through to reach the toilet.
The ceiling lights emit a rainbow of colours (the bathroom light gets stuck in, frankly, a quite frightening red). We’re nevertheless touched that our hosts invested in all this bling when the average salary is around $275 a month.
In the coming days, we participate in Tharu traditions such as making moonshine, dancing, weaving straw handicrafts and gold-panning. We’re fed well with staples of rice, mustard greens, lentil pancakes, daal, curried chicken and tomato chutney served on antibacterial saal leaves.
Dig in. (Credit: Kate Hennessy)
Sonara community homestay president Indradevi Tharu tells us river snails are often served, and the boiled and pickled flesh of rats hunted in the rice fields. “Perhaps next time?” we say and all have a laugh.
The power of community homestays
Barda community homestay owners Parbati Chaudhary and Ram Krishni Devi Chaudhary. (Credit: Simon Urwin)
Immersing Western visitors in foreign cultural practices is not new. But with the Tharu, I never get that uneasy sensation that I’m being performed for. Despite being the only tourists, there’s no ‘othering’; just warm, composed and ultra-dignified welcomes. Like we’ve always been here.
“I love to have travellers in my village so I can see the world,” says local woman Parbati Chaudhary. “Why would I travel the world when the world comes to me?”
The graceful acceptance the Tharu offer, as well as the slow pace, works miracles on my frazzled nervous system. One day I even take a nap on a vacant homestay bed.
An authentic stay in the Sonara community. (Credit: Kate Hennessy)
Roosters strut and goats bray as we sit on the ground in al fresco kitchens, rolling rice flour into cylinders steamed to make dhikri (dumplings). When water is needed, we fetch it using a hand-operated pump as a family of ducks strolls by, side-eying us like curious neighbours.
Animal lovers will delight in Tharu villages. Kind and resourceful inventions are everywhere, such as snacking stations where two posts lean together, with leafy boughs dangling on rope for baby goats to forage from.
CHN’s CEO, Aayusha Prasain, nods knowingly when one in our group says she cried when she left her host, Shayam Chaudhary, in Bhada. Shayam’s 17-year-old son, Prashant, had translated, which deepened the connection.
“Community tourism turns travel into a relationship, not a transaction,” says Aayusha. “It places decision-making power in the hands of local communities, especially women and youth.” Since 2018, CHN has hosted more than 4000 travellers from 52 countries in 408 households, and estimates women’s participation has increased by 381 per cent.
Elephant watch. (Credit: Simon Urwin)
In the Bardiya community, where vexing human-animal conflict has been a balancing act for decades due to elephants raiding crops, long-time homestay operator Salik Ram Chaudhary says young people keep the older ones on their toes.
Gathering greens. (Credit: Bheem Thapa)
“We can’t keep homestays stagnant,” he says. “We have to upgrade our service and redefine our product or young people won’t see it as an attractive business. If we can keep evolving with this travelling trend we’re confident the youths will stay and continue it.”
Back in Kathmandu, Monica explains that after the deaths of young protestors in September, a determination had spread to not let their sacrifice be in vain. “We want to keep holding the government accountable,” she says. “We don’t know what situation we’re facing, but we’re ready to face it.”
Interested in Nepal but prefer to experience it in total comfort? Read our guide to luxury travel in Nepal.
