You know that time is precious to me, which is why I decided to structure this monthly letter as follows: a retrospective on the past month, an encounter with a creative mind, a taste sensation, a reflection to open up new horizons, an enlightening read, and a place where the values of hospitality are those that I love and cherish. TOMO is not just a newsletter. It is a companion that transforms readers’ time into something precious and unexpected.
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#8
Pioneer of time,
sower of emotions
November 12, 2025
My heart belongs to four countries: France, where my family is and where I grew up; Morocco, home to Dar Ahlam for the past 25 years; Brazil, which keeps calling me back; and Japan. So when I started planning the year-long celebration of my 60th birthday (a project I called Red60), it was only natural that Japan would play a central role. Over there, turning sixty is seen as a kind of rebirth, echoing the idea that the stars take sixty years to realign exactly as they were on the day you were born. I knew this journey would be a highlight of the year and it truly was. Japan gathers everything I love: poetry, tradition, modernity, meaning, curiosity, diversity, and an endless hunger to learn.
My connection with Japan goes back to the early days of La Pâtisserie des Rêves. Before launching a concept like that, I felt I had to visit the Mecca of the craft. Whether in traditional or international pastry-making, their level of technical mastery was so astonishing it left me speechless. I kept returning over the years, until finally deciding to create a 700,000 Heures season there. It was 2020, and we were ready to open just as the world suddenly shut down. Japan never went into lockdown, so I decided to stay and work for the local market instead. I witnessed the cherry blossom season without tourists, walked the Philosopher’s Path without crossing a single soul. It was, without a doubt, the best decision I could have made.
Japan never leaves anyone indifferent. You either fall for it completely or it unsettles you deeply. As for me, I surrendered to it — heart, body, and soul. And in this letter, I hope to share a few fragments of that love with you.
Warmly,
Thierry
I met the person I’d like to introduce to you in this letter many years ago, at what we called a “Ginger Dinner.” The idea was simple: bring together people who didn’t know each other over a ginger cocktail with one rule: no talking about our professions. During dinner, a riddle placed on each plate would lead us to guess a profession, then find the person it belonged to. Shinsuke Kawahara’s riddle was about rabbits — like the ones you see outside Roissy airport, the first image he had of Paris, which later became his artistic symbol. No one guessed what he did, but we immediately clicked.
A few months later, we ran into each other by chance in Kyoto, and he ended up helping me prepare the 700,000 Heures season in Ine. When I started thinking about Red60, it was obvious I’d ask him if he would create an illustration for me. On his Instagram bio, he describes himself as “a sixty-something free soul.” We share that same longing to escape the little worlds that lull us to sleep, to be nourished by people of all ages and cultures, and to stay endlessly curious — with one simple goal: to die young, as late as possible.
Gion Sasaki is, without doubt, one of the hardest places in the world to get a seat. Its chef, Hiroshi Sasaki, was my very first encounter with Japanese gastronomy. On the day I arrived in Kyoto, the partner helping me with the opening of the pâtisserie had managed to book us a dinner there. It was a small counter table in his kitchen (which sadly no longer exists today), and I will never forget that evening. Sasaki-san gives a playful twist to every tradition and dares to do what few others would. What strikes you most is the way he gives as much importance to texture and consistency as to flavour. For his sashimi, for example, he selects fish from regions with strong currents (where they grow more muscular from swimming upstream) and slices them a little thicker to preserve that satisfying bite.
Sasaki-san speaks neither English nor French, and my Japanese is far too limited for proper conversation. Yet he came to Dar Ahlam, then to Cambodia for 700,000 Heures, and even introduced me to some of his trusted suppliers so I could source top-quality ingredients for my Japanese season. It was obvious to me that one of the milestones of my Red60 had to be celebrated at his restaurant. Knowing how hard it is to book, I made my reservation 18 months in advance. When I wrote to ask for possible dates, he gave me just one: the 9th of October. Take it or leave it. So, I built my entire itinerary around that evening.
Beyond being a true man of theatre, Sasaki-san has a remarkable personality and an extraordinary aura. Tasting his food is a guarantee of an emotional shock — consider yourself warned!
If I had to associate Japan with a single word, it would undoubtedly be slowness. I love sharing an anecdote with those who have never had the chance to discover the country. While preparing my 700,000 Heures season, I met a highly respected tea master in Tokyo, an elderly man whom I convinced to visit Siem Reap and the temples of Angkor. He spent ten days there and wanted to thank me with a tea ceremony. When I asked him to tell me about his trip, he spoke of one temple. “Wonderful,” I replied, “and what else?” He looked puzzled because for ten days, he had returned every single day to the same place. To absorb the energy of the stones, observe the light, and commune with the temple. I think that’s the best possible definition of Japan: to understand this culture, you must leave the main roads, wander through villages, surrender to the rhythm. And, above all, contemplate.
By now, you know how much I love immersive experiences! So when the founder of L’Escamoteur, a Kyoto bar famous for its cocktails and mystical atmosphere, announced a new concept, I was very curious to see it. From the moment you arrive, you’re led into an elevator that opens into a dark, narrow room. You’re invited to don a cloak and a mask before sitting around a vast circular table — which turns out to be a stage where the performers appear. Throughout the show, drinks are served at your seat, and you can even access a secret room for private acts. The start is a bit uneven, but the closeness to the artists is fantastic, and this show (Svengali) is a wonderfully unexpected way to enjoy a drink.
This guide, formerly known as Soul of Kyoto, was born during Covid. Even though I had more free time than usual, writing it wasn’t as easy as I expected. Kyoto’s society is quite closed; locals don’t tend to invite people into their homes. When they want to show kindness, they take you to one of their favourite places. Once you’ve been personally introduced, you’re welcome to return. Naturally, when I went to meet people whose work I admired, they all asked if I knew those who would read the guide and visit them. Since the answer was no, I couldn’t include them… Still, I managed to slip in a few of my favourite experiences, like a meditation in a secret temple. Kyoto has over 1,600 Buddhist temples (and about 400 Shinto shrines), yet most tourists only visit a handful of the famous ones. Just behind the Silver Pavilion, for instance, Honen-in is a small, completely overlooked temple. Its garden may be less spectacular, but its stillness allows you to sit in silence and feel the true soul of Japan. If I were to extend the guide, I’d tell you to stop by the Kaikado Café and take your time observing every object on display.
The Japanese are so extraordinary when it comes to hospitality that my best advice would be to stay away from traditional hotels. Have fun, live differently! Here’s my trio of recommendations:
- A ryokan. It’s always a surprise to step into a hotel room without a bed, where the living space transforms into a bedroom later in the evening. My two favourites in Kyoto are Tawaraya and Hiiragiya, just across the street from each other. The first is slightly more contemporary, the second more traditional. The owner of Hiiragiya happens to love Saint-Honoré pastries, you’ll know how to please her.
- A capsule hotel. Even though some have become overly commercial, I love the concept behind them. Many workers live far from their offices and, when they can’t make the long commute home, all they need is a bed. It’s efficient, clean, and the bathrooms are often beautiful. I particularly recommend the Nine Hours chain, especially the one in Otemachi.
- A love hotel. An essential part of Japanese culture, a place where couples can escape the lack of privacy in family homes. While urban versions often lack charm, those in the countryside are well worth the detour. When the Japanese commit to something, they go all in. Love hotels are no exception: themed rooms range from doctor’s offices to classrooms to funfairs. Something everyone should experience at least once in their life.
> A feature in Le Figaro Magazine’s list of the 20 journeys to take in 2026 for a great escape — this one, of course, about Rwanda. A journey on the border between reality and fiction, for those who embrace a certain art of letting go. If these few lines have sparked your curiosity, feel free to download the programme for this Rwandan immersion here. Hope to see you next summer.
> An article in Gala, where journalist Jean-Michel de Alberti offers a foretaste of what will be the first immersive hospitality experience: unexpected situations, spontaneous encounters, and the discovery of the Land of a Thousand Hills through the eyes of its communities.