Ways to divide Japan

At first glance, Japan is just a long stretch of islands, from the snows of Hokkaido down to the subtropical shores of Okinawa. But once you start asking how people themselves see the country, the map fractures into dozens of invisible borders.

One vivid map redraws Japan in twelve different ways. Some are historical – splitting the regions that once backed the Meiji reformers from those loyal to the Shogunate. Others are political, carving up the country by party loyalties. Climate plays a role too: in some places summer is survivable, in others it feels like punishment. And then there are the everyday habits, like whether you stand on the left or the right side of an escalator.

Food is another line of division. Whole areas are claimed by soba, udon, or ramen, as if your noodle of choice were proof of local identity. In another frame, the entire country is sliced into “Japan” and “Not Japan,” poking fun at how Hokkaido or Okinawa are sometimes treated as outsiders by the rest of the nation.

The second map zooms into Kyoto, Japan’s old imperial capital, and shows how even a single city can be broken into mental borders. Some districts are known for their crafts – tea, ceramics, kimono-making. Others are defined by tourists, whether foreign or domestic, while entire neighborhoods are ignored altogether. Nintendo even gets its own slice, marking out those who work for the company, appear in its games, or once dreamed of inventing it. Kyoto comes across not as one place but as a patch of overlapping worlds stacked on top of each other.

These maps work because they play with exaggeration while pointing at truths people recognize. They’re part of a tradition popularized by Yanko Tsvetkov’s Atlas of Prejudice (Amazon link), which redraws the world through stereotypes and jokes. In Japan, where food, history, and habits all carry so much weight, the result feels both funny and oddly accurate.