What it’s like to stay in one of Japan’s capsule hotels

For any traveller, the cost of accommodation can make a serious dent in the budget. The smart money gets spent on nothing flasher than two stars. Anything more upmarket means you’re paying top dollar for luggage storage; you’re out and about all day, after all, and your hotel is a place to sleep.

Take that idea to its logical conclusion and, in Japan, you’ll end up in a capsule hotel. On my second trip to that endlessly beguiling country, I stayed almost exclusively in what the locals call ‘kapuseru hoteru’.

The idea is not exclusive to Japan – Stuff has reported that it is starting to catch on in this country, to cater to the backpacker market – but the Land of the Rising Sun is the home of the capsule and the place where it was invented it: the world’s first, which opened in 1979 in Osaka, was the brainchild of architect by Kisho Kurokawa. It was dismantled last year, but in the interim hundreds of imitations have been built, or more commonly installed in existing towers.

The target market for the first capsule hotels was composed of the overworked, black-suited, white-collar “salarymen”, who had missed their trains after working too late or getting too drunk. Those cogs in the corporate machine remain core clientele, which is why each capsule has an amenities pack including razor and toothbrush, and you can buy underwear, socks and a new white shirt at reception.

But they are becoming increasingly popular with Westerners – and not just young backpackers. I didn’t see a lot of other septuagenarian guests, but they are not unknown.

For the solo traveller, the capsules are a boon and couples on a budget who don’t mind sleeping apart (the dormitories and bathrooms are gender-segregated and some of the hotels are men-only) will save plenty of money to be better spent on the country’s myriad cultural and gastronomic attractions.

I paid around $NZ50 a night in the heart of Tokyo, where a modest hotel cost 10 times that – and somewhat less in provincial areas.

If you suffer seriously from claustrophobia, capsules may not be for you. The classic design, in which you crawl in from the foot of the bed, may put you in mind of a morgue drawer if you are so inclined. In one I stayed in, the bed was built into the wall, like a sailor’s berth and the “room” was no wider than my not-very-broad shoulders. But in another, the “first-class” pod, for barely $10 more, I could easily have swung a cat (alas, pets are not allowed).

Capsules typically have a lockable cupboard or drawer for your valuables and your larger bag goes on a shared rack such as you find on a train. If that makes you anxious about theft, you obviously haven’t been to Japan, where honesty, like courtesy and cleanliness, is a cardinal virtue: an experiment documented in a famous YouTube clip, shows a man deliberately dropping his wallet 50 times in Tokyo; it was picked up returned every time.

Best of all, the capsules have the wonderful (shared but segregated) bathrooms that are such a big part of the country’s culture. If public nakedness fills you with horror, prepare to shell out for ensuite rooms or avoid Japan altogether. You wash yourself thoroughly before soaking in a big not pool. Some places have saunas and steam rooms, too.

Capsule hotels do have public areas if you want to escape from your pod. A mammoth TV will blare inane game shows; vending machines dispense snacks and drinks; and there will be a microwave to nuke a readymade ramen from a nearby store if you want a quick meal. And bookshelves will contain hundreds of manga cartoon books.

If you decide to give a capsule a go, be sure to book early, because they fill quickly. Use Google Maps to check how close your choice is to a metro station and what the neighbourhood is like: it’s good to have eating options nearby.

Then get out and about: after all, a hotel is for sleeping in, right?

Fact file:

Getting there: Air New Zealand operates daily flights between Auckland and Tokyo.

Carbon footprint: Flying generates carbon emissions. To reduce your impact, consider other ways of travelling, amalgamate your trips, and when you need to fly, consider offsetting emissions.