Japan's color palette is defined by the purest contrasts. Balanced, harmonious, and balanced, the colors seem to obey the laws that govern the country's behavior: restraint and discretion that converge with flashes of color that float from nature, or chromatic ecosystems in grayscale, like those of its subways and stations, or its more alternative neighborhoods.
The light of the Takayama sunset draws the profiles of my childhood friends amidst oranges and golds. The unusual luck of a long and pure friendship between such different people who come together to explore the world sometimes overshadows the beauty of any destination. But it doesn't make the majesty of Japan and its contrasts insignificant: brutalism and future versus legacy and tradition.
For nearly twenty days, with backpacks and suitcases in tow, we explore the depths of the Land of the Rising Sun and its prefecture; from vibrant cities that could have been set in Blade Runner, to its rural areas, where the soundtrack is the wind rustling through the leaves of trees or rice paddies, rushing streams, and the occasional motorcycle exhaust pipe that cuts through the silence.
The color palette that envelops Japan is as methodical and respectful as its character at times. At other times, it's as imposing and challenging as its history. Our arrival in Osaka lands us on a plane of incessant stimulation that would be the very final touch to our trip to Tokyo.
Flashing signs and advertisements dot every corner amidst a myriad of intense, ever-changing colors that dazzle newcomers and inspire complete indifference among residents. They are everywhere: buildings, canopies, shelves, shop aisles, and products that seem to compete with each other for the surprised gaze of tourists, drawn to their cute drawings of creatures with large, bright, and colorful eyes.
After an initial visual intoxication in which we assimilate the continuous flow of colors, drawings, and prints, a leading player in our journey bursts into our daily routine—almost until the end of our adventure—the subway. A ritual of set steps and unwritten rules, such as which car to board, the exact side to stand on, or the indispensable sepulchral silence, a parallel underground world that contrasts with the overwhelming color of the advertisements above ground.
From black to white, a range of grays colors its tiled hallways and corridors , its immaculate platforms and carriages, and also the clothing of its passengers. It took us only a few subway rides to realize this; there's no color among the clothes of the native Japanese, and it's easy to distinguish the foreigner.
The underground world and the outside world are distinguished by the use and absence of color. Shirts, dresses, suits, and garments with plain, straight, and minimalist cuts evolve from white to black in the wardrobes of its inhabitants, like an x-ray of their behavior: discreet, simple, and without eccentricities, yet with elegance. The same elegance used in the sober armor of their samurai in Bushido thousands of years ago.
Our journey continues in Kyoto, where we visit some of the country's most iconic temples, crowned by their distinctive orange wooden toris . In Shintoism—Japan's indigenous religion that predates Buddhism—these enormous gates marked the entrance to the sacred realm from the earthly realm, and were located at the foot of sacred sites and temples.
Its intense orange tinge splashes across Japan's natural landscapes in its various regions. After our initial encounter with the torii amidst towering mountains and hills, our bullet train journey ascends toward the Japanese Alps and the more rural areas, also crowned by red bridges over streams where any Studio Ghibli character seems to be lurking. It is there, in these rural areas far from the noise and bustle, that the imposing torii rise among enormous mountains, at the foot of lakes, or amidst the lushness of forests. The orange contrasts with the unsweetened color of the wildest Japanese nature: mountain horizons that appear blue in the distance, the green of colossal groves that turn white in winter, and blue lakes from whose surface these arches emerge, as if levitating.
The Shinto religion, which worshipped kami , gods sheltered among nature, seems to make sense among the streets of these towns and their vast parks and landscapes. The greenery of the gigantic Shiroyama forest, crowned by a statue of the first samurai responsible for unifying Japan, opens the way, almost by accident, to a small path of torii that lead to the Shoren-ji temple. Amidst cobwebs and centuries-old cedar wood, it seems hidden from the world and revealed itself as an apparition without a digital trace, raising goosebumps with its mysticism and its gray stone blocks, those that pay homage and respect to the ancestors of the place, as well as a small altar of offerings with rusty copper coins. In this hidden space in the forest, the colors seem to play camouflage in their ranges, reserving this treasure for the eyes of those observers who venture to follow the grain of a small forest path.
But the colors of nature and architecture aren't the only ones that define Japan. When you close your eyes and imagine any object related to the country, two colors usually come to mind: red and black. This isn't simply synesthesia, nor is it the only color of many of its temples, but also the first lacquerware used on the Japanese islands 9,000 years ago, in the midst of the Jomon era. The color of fire, blood, and the sun acquired sacred connotations.
Blue appears glazing all kinds of ceramic utensils, which define daily life and routines, both mundane and ancestral: from broths and stews to tea ceremonies. Sometimes they are smooth; other times, they show color changes due to the firing process, and sometimes they are finished with typical iconography designs, such as carp, dragons, or landscapes.
Between the intense green of the purest matcha tea in the world, which is made in Kyoto, the orange torii on leafy hills, or the grays of its more alternative neighborhoods in Tokyo – between the concrete and the luxury shops, Japan presents itself as a complete chromatic amalgamation of colors that remains in the retina, but seems to slip through the lenses of professional cameras or mobile phones that try to capture its essence. 
They are all harmonious and balanced, each appearing and taking center stage as part of a whole, without overshadowing the other. A beauty marked by restraint and proportions that outline the new and ancient history of one of the most distinctive corners of the world.
