Four Seasons Hotel Tokyo in Marunouchi
Before my trip to Tokyo last month, I felt pressure to pack as much as possible. It had been over four years since my last visit and so much about our world had changed. While I had arranged a loose agenda in my head, something changed when I arrived at the intimate, 57-room Four Seasons Hotel Tokyo in Marunouchi. (The plan was to stay here two nights, and the last two at its newer sister property, the Four Seasons Hotel Tokyo in Otemachi.) I was spent coming from my first visit to Kyoto—where I ran around like a tourist. typical – and the Drizzle wasn’t helping me feel motivated to hit the ground running again.
Four Seasons Hotel Tokyo in Marunouchi
What did I do instead? I made the most of my minimalist, cocoon-like room that afternoon. I sat by my floor-to-ceiling windows, absorbed the clockwork rhythm of the Shinkansen trains just below, and slowly savored my welcome comfort, a thin bunch of plump green grapes. (A friend discovered they were Shine Muscat, which are so prized they are often given as gifts.)
Later for dinner, I tuck into spicy, extra-spicy fried chicken with all the ingredients like a house-made ranch, mashed potatoes, and braised kale (just the cure for my cravings) at Maison Marunouchi, a fresh bar run from the Michelin-starred chef. Daniel Calvert, who also runs the highly acclaimed two-star Michelin restaurant Sézanne. With my stomach full and the soothing sounds of the Shinkansen trains whizzing by, I drifted off to sleep.
Four Seasons Hotel Tokyo in Marunouchi
The next day was bright, clear and mild – perfect for one of my favorite urban pastimes, shopping. (Thankfully, not much has changed in that department, with retailers like Nihombashi Mitsukoshi and Kappabashi Street still bustling.) That evening, I enjoyed another lovely dinner at Maison Marunouchi with charming general manager Charles Fisher over champagne and conversation. At one point I jokingly regretted not ordering my hotel’s to-go club sandwich, and he promised to get his hands on one before I left. (Even though the offer was sweet, I told him he was professional and polite.) To cap off the night, I went to Folklore, a chic den hidden beneath the Yurakucho train tracks, for a shochu martini night.
Four Seasons Hotel Tokyo in Otemachi
The next morning, I checked into the Four Seasons Hotel Tokyo in Otemachi. High in the sky on the top six floors of a gleaming tower, there are stunning views of Tokyo’s iconic cityscape everywhere you turn, from the 190 rooms and suites to VIRTÙ, the fabulous cocktail den headed by Keith Motsi. But don’t be fooled into thinking the sky’s the limit. Here, as I quickly discovered, is just the beginning.
Four Seasons Hotel Tokyo in Otemachi
Faraaz Tanveer, Director of Spa & Wellness, was waiting in my room for a private yoga session. I discovered this practice a few months ago and wanted to learn how to make the basic poses, especially trikonasana, easier on my old bones. But the biggest takeaway was when it was time for Savasana (corpse pose). “I’m very good at stretching and relaxing,” I said. To which Tanveer replied, “This is one of the most difficult poses. If relaxation is easy, why do so many people have a hard time doing it?” His statement hit home. During this one trip, I felt compelled to discover Tokyo’s latest and greatest—not because I wanted to, but because I felt like I had to. Tanveer’s words were all I needed to take the pressure off and slow down.
Four Seasons Hotel Tokyo in Otemachi
The renewal of the Yakusugi forest after our session certainly helped. Inspired by ancient cedar trees – the oldest believed to be between 2,170 and 7,200 years old – from the remote island of Yakushima, the two-hour bath ritual whisked me away in a virtual forest bathing session with a full-body exfoliation and The restorative massage infused a heady, woody scent.
Four Seasons Hotel Tokyo in Otemachi
Over the next two days, I took Tanveer’s advice to heart and did what I wanted. I once looked for vintage goods at the Oedo Antique Market, the country’s largest outdoor antiques market, at the Tokyo International Forum. In fact, a Michelin-starred restaurant that fuses local ingredients—even the water selections are all Japanese—with chef Guillaume Bracaval’s French techniques, I tried Japanese venison and tofu cheese. Executive Pastry Chef Yusuke Aoki’s afternoon tea showed just how versatile the luxurious grape I was greeted with at Marunouchi with artisan bites like Shine Muscat Shortcake and Cold Consommé Royale with Muscat Jelly. On my last night, a friend and I dug into the yakitori at Shirokane Toritama Kagurazaka and Sakanamachi Gogou’s wonderful seafood dishes—the fatty grilled salmon belly was particularly dreamy—and the lemon tart.
Despite these wonderful experiences, I often wonder what happened when I checked out. In the lobby, I saw Fisher with a Four Seasons bag in hand. He had come all the way from Marunouchi, to personally deliver a club sandwich and a piece of Sézanne’s legendary Hokkaido corn dough bread. As it turned out, I was wrong: he wasn’t just polite at dinner, he was sincere. These arguments served as honest and delicious reminders of how many of the most memorable moments of my trip were spent between two incredible hotels—not just hitting the city streets.
