You’ll see it pull up on most evenings. As dusk settles in the city, a small van putters its way along the same backstreet path it’s driven for decades. Parking on the main road, the driver unloads her wares: a metal-rod frame snapped together to form a small hut, a canopy flung over the top, plastic curtains hung across the front, and snug tables and chairs set-up to form three sides of a square around an immense central hotplate.This is Mamichan, one of Fukuoka’s oldest and most popular yatais (屋台; mobile food stalls). Once ubiquitous across Japan, as the country recovered post-World War II, cities would throng with their sight at night, the streetside eateries consoling salarymen with comfort food and camaraderie. A dying breed these days, it’s only here in Fukuoka do you find the last remaining few.
The capital of southernmost Kyushu island—closer to China and Korea than Tokyo—the port city of Fukuoka has rarely ever been on the Japan tourist trail, but that’s starting to change. It’s the fastest-growing city in Japan, ranked high on annual global liveability lists. And unlike anywhere else in the country, it’s a melting pot of cultures and contrasts. The endurance of the yatai here is revealing of the city, both old-fashioned in its charms, yet somehow more exciting and experimental than anything found in contemporary metropolises. Mamichan serves up classic, stodgy Kyushu dishes originally influenced by Chinese cuisine—gyoza, yakisoba, ramen. We won’t fawn over them like most Fukuoka travel articles do, because just down the road, we find the city’s trademark contrast: innovative takes on the traditional yatai.
At Chez Remy, the eponymous French owner literally embraces the Hemingway-in-Paris ‘moveable feast’, with an ever-revolving menu of established Euro-classics: rich mussels, buttery escargot, heavy quiches, all paired with Bordeaux wines. And hidden in plain sight on the main drag behind velvet curtains, late-night, speakeasy Bar Ebichan sees a bow-tied bartender shake up classic cocktails within the cramped confines of a makeshift bar.
Geographically, Fukuoka’s seaside location in a bay should make it unremarkable—just another brisk, windswept town dominated by occasional weekenders. But starting from Kublai Khan’s Mongol invasion through numerous foreign influences (Chinese, Korean, and Okinawan), the city now stands as one of those happy accidents of history you can’t help but love. That intermingling is seen all along the mountainous coast, a far cry from the teeming city. Driving along its winding roads, Fukuoka’s beaches dominate first impressions, with man-made Momochi the most accessible, a popular sandy shore sitting in the shadow of iconic Fukuoka Tower.
Further east but still within city limits, Gannosu, Mitoma, and Shingu collectively form a serene trifecta that starts to hint at Fukuoka’s varied coastal charms: broad beaches, large sand dunes, blue waters, and soothing waves. But for true sun- and surf-chasers, go west and away from the urban. An hour’s drive from the centre, renowned shores Keya, Niginohama, Nogita, and Futamigaura showcase a sublime mix of gold sands, crystalline waters, surf-friendly waves, and sparse crowds, alongside quaint mom-and-pop cafés on the appropriately named ‘Sunset Route’.