Early in my career, working for a small specialist Japan travel company, I learned something uncomfortable. We were told to lie to vegans. Not openly. Not aggressively. Just… quietly.
On the fax we sent to a ryokan, there would be a small pencil note in the margin:
Secret dashi ok.
The client would be reassured that their host understood their vegan requirements. No meat. No fish. No problem.
Except there was dashi.
For anyone unfamiliar with Japanese cooking, dashi is a stock made from dried fish and seaweed. It forms the base of countless dishes. It’s smoky, subtle, and deeply embedded in the cuisine. It’s also, very clearly, not vegan.
But it wasn’t considered “meat”. And, crucially, most traditional inns would not accept a booking if they couldn’t serve something built on it. So the compromise became normalised.
Don’t tell the client. The host will know not to give them meat. It’ll be fine.
And most of the time, it was.
How this became normal
At the time, we were young, underpaid, and trying to grow fast. Phones ringing constantly. English office chatter. Japanese faxes coming and going. We loved Japan. We wanted to send as many people there as possible. We believed in what we were doing.
But volume creates pressure. Pressure creates shortcuts. And one of those shortcuts was quietly redefining what “vegan” meant. Not because anyone was malicious. Because the system rewards smoothness more than honesty.
The reality of food in Japan
Japan is an extraordinary place to eat. It is also one of the most difficult countries in the world to navigate with strict dietary requirements.
Dashi appears in places you would never expect. Soy sauce contains fish. Pickles are seasoned. Vegetables are simmered in stock.
For many ryokan, removing it entirely is not a small adjustment. It’s a cultural and practical disruption.
So when agencies promise “fully vegan meals” everywhere, something has to give. Often, it’s the truth.
Why “don’t tell them” isn’t good enough
At the time, it felt harmless. They’ll never know. It’s only a little. They’re enjoying their trip.
But that thinking misses something fundamental.
People deserve to choose their own compromises. Some vegans might decide that trace dashi is acceptable. Others won’t.
That decision belongs to them. Not to an agent trying to keep an itinerary intact.
How I work now
I’m lucky enough now to be independent. I don’t work within “the system”, so I don’t promise what can’t be delivered.
If a traditional inn can’t accommodate strict vegan requirements without compromise, I say so. Then we look for alternatives.
That might mean:
- choosing different accommodation
- staying in towns with better options
- adjusting expectation
- or rethinking part of the route
It takes more work. It takes more honesty. It sometimes means saying no. But it builds trust.
And trust is worth more than convenience.
Can vegans travel well in Japan?
Yes. Absolutely.
With the right planning, the right places, and realistic conversations, Japan can be a wonderful destination for vegan travellers.
It just isn’t something you solve with blanket promises. It’s something you design carefully.
Why this matters
This isn’t really about food.
It’s about how travel works. About the difference between selling a trip and designing one. Between smoothing things over and respecting people’s choices.
I learned early on that it’s easy to make things look seamless. It’s harder to make them honest.
But it’s the only way I’m comfortable working now.
If you’re thinking about travelling to Japan with specific dietary needs and want to talk it through properly, you can book a 30-minute consultation here.