Why Fukuoka?
Published September 28, 2025
I walked out the backdoor of the airport. Knowing Fukuoka was waiting for me.
I romanticise places. I do. And I miss them. But out of all the places I love and miss, Fukuoka has been top of the list since the day I patched up the pus-filled hole on the heel of my foot and boarded a highway bus to Osaka.
My first time in Fukuoka in 2013, I was outside, surviving day to day. Practically homeless in one of the most alien countries to anywhere else.
It hurt me physically every day. And I leant into that pain. I didn't have to walk so much, I could have stayed still more, waited for the day to pass from Net Café sleep to Net Café sleep. But I didn't, I walked and fucking walked, and through it, Me and Fukuoka fused forever.
Fukuoka itself is achingly beautiful. Everything seems perfectly placed. The city feels like a dreamscape, drawn not built, it has a subtle unreal quality. The streets and their flow are life-affirming, life-enhancing.
As soon as we crossed the Korea Strait I felt it. A wave of emotions hit as the land approached. I decided to walk from the airport into the city.
It had been years, 12 years. I had lived in Taiwan, Singapore, Canada, returned to England and visited 55 more countries. As I walked the streets towards Hakata Station I felt at home and at peace. There's something here.
It quickly became clear that all those years of romanticism were not fraud. This wasn't a one-off special time, it was always on. Me and Fukuoka belong together. In 2013, in 2025. Always.
“This is the most beautiful place in the world.” I said to myself as the sun set and darkness took over the buildings beyond the field.
Our flesh and stone bond. Ancient Haunting.
Like no other.
If you were to ask me what heaven was, I'd say here.
Fukuoka is heaven.
I don't know if I'll ever be able to express the complete picture of why. And maybe that's one of the reasons why. We go beyond.
On paper Fukuoka probably shouldn't be The One. Sacred Ground. The place I feel most connected to. But it is. I've met others who haven't understood. In person and online. People who couldn't come close to grasping it. Some recognise in their own ways how special it is, many more don't.
I left Popeyes with a coke for the road as the sun was rising. The prostitutes and hostesses were all heading home for well-earnt sleep. The city was spinning into day. And I walked to the Naku and took a moment.
These trips are always wild. This one started in Moldova of all places, continued through the Middle East and a major war, to Thailand and then Beijing. And finally back to Korea and now Japan.
The final days of this trip, those last days in Seoul and the flights back to England were a blur, I remember a few moments. I ate a really great plate of sticky hot Korean fried chicken. But really the trip ended in Fukuoka, there as the sun rose over the river. I made the right decision. Back to Korea and back to Fukuoka.
Some things I must own. Fukuoka I must own.
It doesn't have to be on paper, verified by third-parties and agreed by others. But I must know. I own this place, I own this thing. It's mine.
I have more knowledge, more understanding, there is a greater connection between me and it. Real ownership, Real power.
Fukuoka is something I own. And it's something that cannot be taken from me.