Disclaimer: This article is a personal contribution and does not represent the views of Wego or its editorial team.
After traveling through several cities in Japan—including Tokyo, Osaka, and Kyoto—and spending time in Shanghai, I’ve come away with a lot of thoughts. This is part of a two-part series where I lay out reasons why I prefer China in one article and reasons why I prefer Japan in another. It’s important to note that I don’t prefer one country over the other overall—they each offer very different experiences that I value for different reasons. In this article, I’ll focus on why, in certain aspects, I prefer China—more specifically, why I prefer Shanghai over Japan.
1. China is Significantly Cheaper Than Japan—Even in Major Cities
I’m comparing apples to apples here—Shanghai and Tokyo, not some obscure third-tier towns. Based on my personal experience, everything in Shanghai, especially food, is at least twice as cheap as in Tokyo.
In tourist-heavy areas of Japan, eating out is pricey. A decent meal at a popular izakaya can easily run you 15 to 20 USD, and that doesn’t guarantee great food. Sure, there are affordable chain options like Yoshinoya or Ichiran, but you really need to know where to go if you want something both good and reasonably priced. Otherwise, expect to pay a premium.
In contrast, Shanghai offers incredible value. I’ve had excellent meals at sit-down restaurants starting from around 5 USD. If I splurge—say, spend 10 USD—I’m getting top-tier food. And I don’t need to hunt around either. Just head to any shopping mall, especially the basements, and you’ll find a range of restaurant-quality meals at very affordable prices. I’ve had some of the best xiaolongbao of my life—eight pieces for just 4 or 5 USD. The value is honestly mind-blowing.
2. Chinese Food is Just Better in China—And It’s a Personal Comfort
This might sound silly, but it’s true: Chinese food tastes better in China. I wasn’t in Japan looking for Chinese food, but after about two weeks there, I started craving it. So when I finally got to Shanghai, I was genuinely happy to be back in a place where I could eat xiaolongbao, beef noodles, xiaokao (those barbecue shish kebabs), and hotpot—comfort food for me as a Singaporean Chinese.
And it wasn’t just the taste—it was the price too. I could eat out every day without worrying about breaking the bank. A meal in Shanghai would often cost me around 10 USD, but that would get me two to three dishes, not just one. If I went to a small, no-frills eatery—the kind of place that’s the equivalent of a Japanese izakaya—I’d spend maybe 2 or 3 USD for a solid, satisfying meal. The quality was consistently good, and it didn’t feel like I had to go “food hunting” to find something worthwhile.
In Japan, by contrast, eating out was often a chore. Many izakayas in touristy areas felt overpriced, sometimes running 10 to 15 USD for a single dish that wasn’t even that great. It started to feel like a guessing game—am I eating somewhere good, or just somewhere that looks good to foreigners? In Shanghai, if you see people lining up or packing into a place, you can be pretty sure it’s good, because even in tourist areas, it’s mostly domestic tourism. That keeps the prices grounded and the food authentic.
3. Accommodation in Japan is Shockingly Expensive Compared to China
I’ve traveled a fair bit, and I can confidently say that Japan has some of the most expensive accommodations I’ve ever encountered, especially when you consider what you’re actually getting. I happened to visit during Golden Week, which is a peak holiday period in Japan, but even with that in mind, the prices were absurd.
I paid around 83 USD (about 112 SGD) per night for a capsule bed in a 10-person dormitory in Tokyo. That’s right—a two-meter by one-meter capsule in a shared room for nearly a hundred dollars a night. I stayed for three nights, and it felt excessive and kind of perverse.
In contrast, in Shanghai, I stayed at a very comparable hostel for about 17 USD (23 SGD) per night. The facilities, quality, and central location were all on par. In Tokyo, I was at UNPLAN in Shinjuku—one of the most popular hostels in the city. In Shanghai, it was DAYIN Hostel, also well-rated and centrally located. The difference? In Shanghai, the cost was 5 to 6 times lower.
What’s more, it was simply easier to book accommodations in Shanghai. Options were more plentiful, and there was a wider, more affordable variety, even in central areas. In Tokyo, cheap options were practically non-existent when I searched. The whole experience of finding a place to stay was more stressful in Japan, and that’s one of the reasons I prefer traveling in China.
4. Once You’re in, China’s Digital Ecosystem is Incredibly Efficient
There’s a bit of a learning curve, but once you manage to get into the Chinese digital ecosystem, mainly through WeChat, everything becomes incredibly streamlined. It’s one app to rule them all. You pay, order food, book services, and even interact with businesses—all within WeChat.
The efficiency is hard to overstate. For example, when you dine out in China, you don’t wait for a waiter. Every table has a QR code. You scan it with WeChat, the menu pops up, you place your order, pay right there on your phone, and the food just comes to your table. Once you’re done eating, you get up and leave. There’s no queuing to pay, no bill to split, no confusion—just eat and go. It’s that seamless.
Japan, on the other hand, still feels stuck in a more traditional, slower system. You often have to wait for a server to come take your order, especially frustrating in tourist-heavy areas where places are understaffed. You deal with long waits, mix-ups, and delays that just don’t happen in a digital-first environment like China’s.
And then there’s the matter of payment. Japan still relies heavily on cash. Every transaction ends with a fistful of coins, including denominations as small as 1 yen. It’s bulky, outdated, and honestly feels archaic compared to the speed and ease of scanning a QR code and moving on.
5. China Feels Less Commercialized—And That’s a Good Thing
If you’re the kind of traveler who doesn’t want a cushy, over-commercialized holiday, where you’re surrounded by other tourists and not locals, then China might be exactly what you’re looking for. Japan, especially cities like Tokyo, Osaka, and Kyoto, often feels like it’s been optimized for tourists. In many of the hotspots—Shinjuku, Akihabara, Asakusa, Ueno—you’ll feel like the majority. It’s often 50% tourists, sometimes as high as 70–80% in the most visited areas. It can feel like a theme park version of the country.
China, on the other hand, is a completely different experience. Even in Shanghai—arguably China’s most international city—you don’t see many foreign tourists. I’d say on Nanjing Road, the busiest commercial street in the country, international tourists made up maybe 10–15% of the crowd. That’s a stark contrast. You’re walking among locals, eating where locals eat, and living a version of China that hasn’t been repackaged for global consumption.
If you’re the kind of traveler who doesn’t just want to take pictures in front of landmarks but actually wants to be pushed out of your comfort zone, China delivers that. It’s what I’d call “travel on hard mode.” You’re forced to learn, adapt, and interact with locals in a way that Japan rarely demands of you. Japan, for all its beauty, is beginner-level travel. It’s well-trodden, easy, and heavily documented.
There’s already a million YouTube videos about Japan. No one needs another one. But China? That’s still raw, authentic, and filled with surprises. It’s not for everyone, but for those who want the real deal, it’s hard to beat.
6. As a Singaporean Chinese, Being in China Strengthens My Cultural Identity
This might not apply to everyone, especially non-Chinese speakers, but for me, one of the biggest reasons I prefer China over Japan is language—and what that language represents. As a Singaporean Chinese, I speak Mandarin, though not fluently. Like many Singaporeans, I speak it at about 60–70% proficiency—good enough to get by, but far from perfect. Still, I welcome the chance to be immersed in an environment where I’m forced to speak it.
In Singapore, English dominates. You rarely need to speak Mandarin at all. But in China, Mandarin is the default. It’s how you navigate the country, order food, ask for help—basically everything. There’s no way around it. And for me, that’s a good thing.
Being in China allowed me to test and improve my Mandarin in a way I couldn’t do elsewhere. It’s not just about language—it’s about identity. Speaking the language connects me to my cultural roots. It reminds me that no matter how westernized I may be, at the end of the day, I am ethnically Chinese. And I want to hold onto that. I don’t want to lose my Eastern identity.
Japan, of course, doesn’t offer this. They speak Japanese, so there’s no opportunity for that same kind of immersion. But in China, I felt something grounding. Something that reaffirmed who I am and where I come from.
