Welcome to Disneyland Tokyo - International Traveller Magazine

Jen Pinkerton shows grown-ups with kids in tow, adult fans of Mickey, and simply the curious among us, how to get the most out of Tokyo Disneyland, a slice of Americana ‘Nipponified’.

Skip to the bottom for a quick-read five-step survival guide

It’s 9am on a mid-week morning in Japan and rivers of Disney fans flow towards Mecca. As anyone who’s been to Disneyland will know, Disney’s fanbase stretches across all generations and is loved by toddlers and adults alike. Teenage girls wear hairdos the shape of mouse ears. Toddlers dress as queens. Grown men carry backpacks cloaked with clip-on toys. In short, all paths leading to Tokyo Disneyland are a stage. And against this crowd, even in my fluro-flecked frock, I look as dull as a doorknob.

A precautionary email from a friend pops into my head. “It’s normal to queue at the Disneyland entrance for a couple of hours so GET THERE EARLY." I hadn’t taken the tip. But with Zip-A-Dee-Do-Dah floating from nearby speakers, and all these people to watch, who needs rides?

Let me confess: in the lead up to this moment I’d been a little nonchalant. I was excited about Japan, but Disneyland? I’d seen the Los Angeles version as an 11-year-old with an overbite and a nose for bad tracksuits. Sure, I loved it. But I was a kid. Twenty years later, singing animals have somewhat lost their sheen.

However, preconceptions aside, there must be something about the place. It’s popular. And when I say popular, I mean it’s The Most Visited Site in Japan. Along with add-on DisneySea, Disneyland elbows out tourist rivals such as Tokyo’s temples and its quirky epicentre, the suburb of Harajuku.

Now at the starting gate, this foreign visitor passes ‘go’. I emerge inside a giant green house: a glass-roofed structure filled with lantern-lit streets, Parisian-style cafés and oddball ‘cast members’ such as a bicycle-riding piano player. In the distance I make out the Sleeping Beauty Castle. It’s swaddled in early morning haze. This is quite the magical entry. And a quiet one, too.

Softly, patiently

The Star Tours ride – commentary in Japanese.

That’s the first thing you notice about Tokyo Disneyland. Boisterous it ain’t. Disney songs softly spill into the park. People queue patiently. For a place teeming with visitors, it’s markedly hushed – a trait that pervades Japan as a whole.

First things first, I try the Star Tours ride, which is a bit like an intimate IMAX theatre with shifting seats. We spin through galaxies on a spaceship and watch Chewbacca claw at our ship, leaving a trail of oily paw prints on the windscreen. The commentary is all in Japanese, but it doesn’t seem to matter.

Next up, Jungle Cruise, manned by a gymnastically gifted skipper. As the boat wheel spins, our host flips backwards, performing a reverse limbo move. He twirls his wrists excitedly. “I am Japanese Idol!"

From there we hit the vividly lit It’s a Small World, then Space Mountain. While kids go bananas over the former, it’s Space Mountain that sends me into high gear. I start to feel like I imagine an addict might. After minutes spent hurtling through darkness, kept company only by tiny lights and minimalist techno, something snaps in my brain. I’m reconnected with that tracksuit-clad 11-year-old. I feel slightly nauseous, yet completely hooked. Briefly, I forget I’m in Japan.

In my best Darth Vader voice, three words rise from my throat: “I. Want. More." High adrenaline rides need only apply. Tower of Terror, Indiana Jones Adventure and Splash Mountain all make the cut.

Come mid-afternoon, however, these old bones need a rest. A tip from my older self: make a plan to see and do what you want with a map of the park, if not you may walk straight past some highlights. Plus don’t take on too much; it’s a big place and old legs will be tired by the end of the day, let alone young ones.

The Olympic-esque parade

There’s a daily 3pm parade and it’s worth a watch. It feels like a scene you’d see at an Olympic Games opening ceremony. Think giant floats, great costumes and ample licks of make-up.

The performance seems more manicured than you’d find at US Disney. Moves are flawlessly choreographed. Cute flows in abundance. Admittedly though, the parade’s English soundtrack, Happiness is here, grows old quickly. (Perhaps, as it’s not in Japanese, locals don’t mind a touch of repetition.)

I wander by the Sleeping Beauty Castle to take up a viewing spot in the Wild West at Westernland. As I do, chimes sound from the garden. Nice touch, I think. It’s among the many small devices that help reset visitors’ moods – psychologically immersing them in whichever ‘theme’ they’re amidst, be it a magic garden, tropical jungle or haunted house.

On the parade-watching grounds beside me, two Japanese teens adjust huge hair ribbons. A child in Snow White garb waves sweetly. A woman with a British accent leans close: “Disneyland has its heart in the right place, doesn’t it?"

She’s right. Sure you could grumble about the long waits for rides and the odd spot of cheesiness, but essentially Tokyo Disneyland captures something mercurial: our imaginations. It also throws in a good dose of surprise. Take the bicycle piano, for instance, or a 12-piece marching band that springs into action around midday.

The American v Japanese models

Disney is ‘on brand’ regardless of the destination.

But more enticingly, for me at least, this Disneyland visit doesn’t just glean its value from the cleverness of the park. It comes from the way in which the attraction stands apart from its American mould. It’s the Japanese-ness. And that includes how much the people here adore all things Disney.

There’s a childlike innocence to Disneyland – and indeed to much of Japan. The park dunks you headfirst in fantasy. It also gives visitors license to dress up and unleash their inner crazy (in a loud-but-oh-so-quiet Japanese way).

My own attire might not measure up, but as this fluro-flecked dress exits after dark, I’ll be darned if Disney songs haven’t looped into my thoughts semi-permanently.

Zip-a-Dee-Do-Dah accompanies me while I ride the elevator, turn the room key and brush my teeth. In the mirror I can’t help noticing my overbite. Had it popped back for the night, just to remind me I was once 11? More likely, I think, as I drop into bed, the overbite – and the bad tracksuits for that matter – never really left.

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Eat lunch at different times

You’re going to need to refuel at one of the many restaurants (you have to try the Great American Waffle Company and the Sweetheart Cafe for Mickey-shaped treats), but taking lunch an hour earlier will avoid the crowds.

FASTPASS

An essential, really. With a FASTPASS you can effectively reserve your place on an attraction at a confirmed time, go off and have more fun and then return to gain instant access.

Happy 15 Entry

If you’re staying at a Disney Hotel you can enter Tokyo Disneyland before the regular Park opening time and experience designated attractions, or get a Disney FASTPASS ticket.

Plan your day

Use a map of Tokyo Disneyland to plan your day in the park, ticking off the must-dos and avoid doing too much to avoid tired legs and subsequent tantrums.

The details

Even grown males are captured by the Disney 'magic'. — Even grown males are captured by the Disney ‘magic’.

Cost: One-day pass is approx. $98 per adult;$84 for 12-17 years; $63 for 4-11 years

Airfares: Approximately $900 Sydney to Tokyo return with Japan Airlines. jal.com.au

Quietest time to visit: Weekdays, plus the months of January and February

Contact: Tokyo Disneyland, Japan National Tourist Organisation (Australia)

After youth-led protests in 2025, this year Nepal elected a 35-year-old former rapper as Prime Minister. In a country where tourism is its biggest industry, what’s next for travellers?

In 1986, Nepal changed its clock. It had used India Standard Time since 1920 so, to differentiate, it wound its clock 15 minutes ahead of, not behind, its big-brother neighbour. Boss move. “Nepal is strongly opposed to the idea that our identity is connected to India,” says Community Homestay Network (CHN) guide Bikal Khanal.

Tharu dance is traditionally set to hand drums. (Credit: Kate Lewis)

Today, Nepal is the only independent country with a 45-minute deviation to universal time; an oddity that’s become a symbol of national pride. The quirk is nearly as endearing as Kathmandu’s Tribhuvan airport where carved varnished wood and shiny red bricks rule. One sign points to a ‘Travelator’ and another to a ‘Grievance Handling Desk’ while visas are noisily stamped at customs for US dollars, cash only. When am I?

Spot the endemic Nepal gray langur. (Credit: Simon Urwin)

The 15 or 45 minute anomaly sees me tap out completely on timezone calculations. Why bend my brain calculating if it’s quarter to or quarter past elsewhere when I’m in the honking here and now of Kathmandu where the air is high-altitude crisp, the prayer flags flutter and the street dogs howl?

How tourism is changing in Nepal

Bardiya National Park is rich with wildlife. (Credit: Simon Urwin)

India is not the only association many Nepalis would like to shake. With eight of the world’s 10 tallest mountains, including Mount Everest and Annapurna, Nepal has long attracted mountaineers and trekkers, and expedition numbers are continuing to rise.

Tourism is one of the country’s biggest sources of foreign currency, so this growth is not negative, per se. But according to Ang Tshering Lama, who co-founded Phaplu Mountain Bike Club, being reduced to a mere trekking destination is limiting.

“Trekking is just one layer of our identity,” says Ang. “When it becomes the dominant narrative, it limits how we’re seen and how we see ourselves.” Nepal’s recent success, however, in diverting trekkers to less-trafficked areas such as Manaslu mofuntain, where visitor numbers rose by 117 per cent last year, offers hope that tourism can diversify even more radically.

Local men in Bhada village. (Credit: Simon Urwin)

The founder of CHN, Shiva Dhakal, wants that change. “The whole idea of the Community Homestay Network is to promote experiences outside of trekking,” he says. “Community tourism changes lives and helps kids stay home instead of coming to the city or migrating to the Middle East.”

Ang grew up seeing people leave, “not because they wanted to but because there weren’t enough opportunities to stay”, he states. Yet from remote villages to living traditions; food, art, music and emerging subcultures, “there’s so much that’s not being seen.”

CHN is opening some of those doors. It doesn’t own, or fund, any homes. Rather, it promotes homestays to travellers on a single, slick platform, while fostering entrepreneurship in places where women, marginalised castes, Indigenous people and the youth stand to benefit the most.

A new generation demanding more

Dalla Town Hall, where volunteers discuss anti-poaching tactics. (Credit: Bheem Thapa)

The future prospects of next-gen Nepalis can no longer be ignored. On a Kathmandu tour with 33-year-old guide Monica K.C, we pass buildings torched in the September 2025 ‘Gen Z protests’, including the Supreme Court and Parliament House. Seventy-two people died. “They were anti-corruption protests,” says Monica. “Politicians’ children are living a lavish life but the airports are crowded with youngsters leaving to find work.”

We stop in ‘little Tibet’ at the wondrous sixth-century Boudha Stupa. “The wheel of life is Buddhism in a nutshell,” says Monica. “Things such as hate, ignorance and anger keep you rotating around the wheel, so you must follow the principles of Buddhism to detach. If you can’t, there’s no nirvana for you.”

Boudha Stupa's prayer wheels — Boudha Stupa’s prayer wheels are used to recite Buddhist prayers. (Credit: Kate Lewis)

In a sun-drenched twist to the usual temple visit, we ascend the stupa’s sloping plinth and roam its whitewashed dome. Tendrils of diaphanous prayer flags stream from a steeple-like structure where the Buddha’s unblinking eyes stare out. No nirvana for you…

bouda stupa prayer flags — Tibetan-style prayer flags embellish the whitewashed dome of Bouda Stupa, a Buddhist temple. (Credit: Kate Hennessy)

The dome is delightfully free of guard rails or chiding from security. There is, however, a stern ‘No TikTok’ sign, perhaps in response to the youth’s newly flexed power. The booted-out Prime Minister, K.P. Sharma Oli, was replaced in a resounding election victory in March by 35-year-old Balendra Shah of the Rastriya Swatantra Party (RSP) – a former rapper and mayor of Kathmandu. The RSP’s manifesto indicates tourism is a priority, and that Nepal’s cultural identity in areas such as gastronomy will be strengthened.

Boudha Stupa vendors — Vibrant souvenir shops and cafes around Boudha Stupa. (Credit: Kate Hennessy)

A more confronting stop awaits at Pashupatinath Temple. Today is Bala Chaturdashi, a Hindu festival where thousands of devotees gather to honour their dead ancestors. Vendors hauling foam mattresses do a lucrative trade as people set up for a night of vigil. This includes burning the bodies of recently deceased relatives on bamboo pyres in the Bagmati River, which flows into the sacred Ganges.

A woman at annual Hindu festival Bala Chaturdashi, in Kathmandu. (Credit: Kate Hennessy)

Wrapped in a shroud, the bodies are positioned with their heads facing north to the Himalayas where Lord Shiva resides. They’re covered with flowers and straw and set alight by male family members.

Hours later, the ashes are swept into the river where devotees will take a holy dip the next day. As much as Monica assures us it’s not voyeuristic to watch, I struggle to do so. “Here you see the reality of life because everyone ends up there,” she says, gesturing to the river.

Life unfiltered in the Terai region

tharu woman — Tharu woman and master weaver Parbati Chaudhary in Bhada Village. (Credit: Bheem Thapa)

The reality of life needs processing time, which the western Terai region delivers in spades. The Terai is largely separated from India by the Karnali River and Bardiya National Park, where elephants, rhinos and the elusive Bengal tiger roam.

Once a nomadic tribe, the Indigenous Tharu people are now the largest ethnic group here. “They didn’t know their daily life was interesting for international travellers but they’re starting to understand now,” says CHN founder Shiva.

Take a Jeep safari through Bardiya National Park. (Credit: Bheem Thapa)

We fly Buddha Air to Dhangadhi airport and drive five hours to stay in Tharu homes. The journey to Bhada village is a blur of roadside fruit stalls, traffic-stopping sacred cows and fields sown with wheat, rice, mustard, spinach, cauliflower and potatoes. Nepal’s agriculture feeds only Nepal.

Marigolds are an important part of Hindu rituals. (Credit: Simon Urwin)

“The only thing we export is young people,” says our guide Bikal. As the light dims and we plunge evermore rural, mysterious mounds of compacted hay – some house-sized – loom like the creatures from Where The Wild Things Are. Even our trusty driver gets flummoxed by a dirt road that abruptly ends and we find ourselves hurtling across a paddock.

On arrival, some are ferried to mud-walled cottages greened by gourd creepers, with thatched roofs and rustic-chic mosquito nets. Myself and two others are ushered to the home of corner store owner, mechanic and mushroom farmer Man Kumar Chilaruwa and his wife Rajkumari.

community homestay entrance — A warm welcome at a community homestay. (Credit: Simon Urwin)

They escort us to a bunker-esque back building with steel doors and a folding security gate, behind which is gleaming linoleum, dolphin-printed tiles and a shower cavity that must be gingerly stepped through to reach the toilet.

The ceiling lights emit a rainbow of colours (the bathroom light gets stuck in, frankly, a quite frightening red). We’re nevertheless touched that our hosts invested in all this bling when the average salary is around $275 a month.

In the coming days, we participate in Tharu traditions such as making moonshine, dancing, weaving straw handicrafts and gold-panning. We’re fed well with staples of rice, mustard greens, lentil pancakes, daal, curried chicken and tomato chutney served on antibacterial saal leaves.

food at community homestay — Dig in. (Credit: Kate Hennessy)

Sonara community homestay president Indradevi Tharu tells us river snails are often served, and the boiled and pickled flesh of rats hunted in the rice fields. “Perhaps next time?” we say and all have a laugh.

The power of community homestays

community homestay owners in Nepal — Barda community homestay owners Parbati Chaudhary and Ram Krishni Devi Chaudhary. (Credit: Simon Urwin)

Immersing Western visitors in foreign cultural practices is not new. But with the Tharu, I never get that uneasy sensation that I’m being performed for. Despite being the only tourists, there’s no ‘othering’; just warm, composed and ultra-dignified welcomes. Like we’ve always been here.

“I love to have travellers in my village so I can see the world,” says local woman Parbati Chaudhary. “Why would I travel the world when the world comes to me?”

The graceful acceptance the Tharu offer, as well as the slow pace, works miracles on my frazzled nervous system. One day I even take a nap on a vacant homestay bed.

Sonara community room — An authentic stay in the Sonara community. (Credit: Kate Hennessy)

Roosters strut and goats bray as we sit on the ground in al fresco kitchens, rolling rice flour into cylinders steamed to make dhikri (dumplings). When water is needed, we fetch it using a hand-operated pump as a family of ducks strolls by, side-eying us like curious neighbours.

Animal lovers will delight in Tharu villages. Kind and resourceful inventions are everywhere, such as snacking stations where two posts lean together, with leafy boughs dangling on rope for baby goats to forage from.

CHN’s CEO, Aayusha Prasain, nods knowingly when one in our group says she cried when she left her host, Shayam Chaudhary, in Bhada. Shayam’s 17-year-old son, Prashant, had translated, which deepened the connection.

“Community tourism turns travel into a relationship, not a transaction,” says Aayusha. “It places decision-making power in the hands of local communities, especially women and youth.” Since 2018, CHN has hosted more than 4000 travellers from 52 countries in 408 households, and estimates women’s participation has increased by 381 per cent.

In the Bardiya community, where vexing human-animal conflict has been a balancing act for decades due to elephants raiding crops, long-time homestay operator Salik Ram Chaudhary says young people keep the older ones on their toes.

“We can’t keep homestays stagnant,” he says. “We have to upgrade our service and redefine our product or young people won’t see it as an attractive business. If we can keep evolving with this travelling trend we’re confident the youths will stay and continue it.”

Back in Kathmandu, Monica explains that after the deaths of young protestors in September, a determination had spread to not let their sacrifice be in vain. “We want to keep holding the government accountable,” she says. “We don’t know what situation we’re facing, but we’re ready to face it.”

Interested in Nepal but prefer to experience it in total comfort? Read our guide to luxury travel in Nepal.

Tokyo Disneyland: a grown-up’s guide