A Ryokan Buyout Wedding at Jinya: Two Nights, 71 Guests

On the first night, the groom stood up to welcome everyone and gave them three warnings for “these next 48 hours”.

“Get ready to stretch your bellies.”

“Prepare your liver.”

“Prepare to get no sleep.”

Seventy-one people had come from across the United States, Europe and Asia, and for two nights in November they had Jinya to themselves. The whole of it: every room, every bath, every path through the garden. This is the story of a ryokan buyout wedding, and of how every one of those warnings came true.

The bride and groom kiss beneath cascading white florals on the garden steps at their ryokan buyout wedding at Jinya in Japan.

An aerial of the ryokan garden in peak autumn with the bride on the path, and the bride holding her bouquet among fiery red maples.

A Ryokan Buyout Wedding at Jinya, an Hour From Tokyo

Jinya sits at Tsurumaki Onsen, about an hour from Tokyo, at the foot of the Tanzawa mountains. It began in 1918 as a villa for receiving important guests. More than a century later, receiving people is still what it does best.

A ryokan is a house of early nights. Dinner is served in courses, the baths are open until late, the corridors go quiet, and other guests are sleeping down the hall. Most inns will give a wedding a beautiful day and a polite ending.

A buyout changes what’s possible. When you take the whole inn, no other guests are booked. Every room, bath and garden path is yours. Guests wander between the reception and the hot springs in yukata. Grandparents go to bed in a room down the hall. Nobody watches the clock for the last train.

What a buyout doesn’t change is where the inn sits. Jinya has neighbours, and the music has a firm finish. The best weddings we plan treat that as part of the deal. This one did it beautifully.

Our fabulous groom and our incredible bride wanted that for everyone, and they wanted it for two nights. They collected the room fees from their guests themselves and paid the inn in one go, so that the stay felt like a gift. Fifty-four people slept at Jinya. The others came out from Tokyo and nearby hotels by private coach, and Dee rode out with them. The couple’s parents asked for rooms next to each other. We made sure of it.

In black and white, the groom sits in a chair in his white shirt, his bow tie undone, before his destination wedding in Japan.

In black and white, the bride looks down as she gathers her sheer veil in her hands on her wedding day in Japan.

Why Two Nights

If there’s one thing we’d tell any couple planning a destination wedding in Japan, it’s to give your people a first night.

An aerial of the tiled ryokan roof and a red maple in the courtyard garden, and three men in white shirts talking under the eaves.

An aerial of the couple on a garden path beside the tiled ryokan roof, and the bride and groom among tall trees in the forest garden.

People fly a long way for a wedding like this. Many of them have never met. On a single day, they meet in a receiving line and part at midnight. Give them an evening first, and by the time the ceremony begins they already know each other’s names, who’s sitting with whom, and which uncle has the best stories. The wedding day starts warm instead of starting from zero.

A second night does the rest. It means nobody has to leave the party to catch a coach. It means a morning after, together, with all the stories still fresh. And at a ryokan, it means everyone gets two nights in the hot springs, which tends to make a crowd of strangers into something closer to a household.

Red maple leaves in the ryokan garden, maple leaves reflected in a round stone water basin, rippling water and backlit autumn leaves.

Night One: A Welcome Party at Jinya

Warning number one: stretch your bellies.

The welcome party was for every guest, staying or not. Low tables dressed with Japanese-pattern runners. Beer from Sapporo, Asahi and Kirin on ice in a big wooden tub, which Jinya’s head chef approved personally. Yuzu-honey soda for anyone pacing themselves.

Dinner was a curry buffet, and the chef made it his own. We’d planned beef, chicken and vegetable. He suggested swapping the chicken for a mild curry made with Ise-ebi, Japanese spiny lobster. Seafood curry is everyday food in Japan, and Sumika, our planner, promised it was good. The couple said yes. It was delicious.

She arrived in a red dress, and the room cheered as if the wedding had already happened.

The bride in a red dress and the groom dance into the tatami room for the welcome party, and guests cheer and clap them in.

Mochitsuki at the Welcome Party

Then the mortar came out.

Mochitsuki is the pounding of steamed rice into mochi in a great wooden mortar, one person swinging a heavy mallet while another turns the rice between strikes. It’s loud, it’s rhythmic, and it’s impossible to watch without wanting a turn. The two of them went first, in happi coats, while the whole room counted the strikes out loud. Then the guests queued up for the mallet.

The mochi went straight to a bar of toppings: strawberry with sweet red bean, kuromitsu syrup, and roasted soybean kinako with peanut. (The story of why mochi belongs at a wedding is told in their wedding film.)

By the end of the first night, people from every corner of their lives were calling each other by name, and the first warning was well underway.

The couple pound mochi as guests watch in the tatami room, and the bride in red laughs beside the groom at the welcome dinner.

The groom swings a large wooden mallet into the mortar as the bride in a red dress helps at the mochi pounding welcome party.

The groom and the bride in a backless red gown walk through the ryokan garden at night after the welcome party.

Getting Ready at Jinya, With Iki Espresso

On the wedding day, before anyone had a drink in their hand, there was coffee. They’d asked for it by name: Iki Espresso, one of Tokyo’s best-loved coffee bars, set up at the inn for the morning and pulling flat whites and cortados for everyone.

His morning had his two oldest friends, his sister standing with him, and a bow tie that needed more instructions than anyone expected. Hers had her sisters, her mother, the veil, and a room that clapped at every step. A room near theirs had been turned into a steaming and ironing room for the guests, with steamers, rails and green tea, so nobody had to iron a shirt in a ryokan bathroom.

In black and white, hands straighten the groom's bow tie, and the groom adjusts his cuff as he gets ready at the ryokan.

In black and white, friends fix each other's bow ties beside the shoji screens, and the groom laughs in a huddle with his wedding party.

The groom sits in a wooden chair in his white shirt and bow tie, chin resting on his hand, in a dark ryokan room before the ceremony.

The groom in a white shirt and black bow tie fastens his watch in a dim ryokan room on the morning of his autumn wedding in Japan.

The groom and his friends seen through a round window at the ryokan, and their whisky glasses raised in a toast before the ceremony.

In black and white, a woman kneels to adjust the bride's lace gown as the bride looks down while getting ready at the ryokan.

In black and white, two women lift the long veil high over the laughing bride as she gets ready for her wedding in Japan.

The bride stands in her lace gown by a tall window in a tatami room at the ryokan, light falling across her dress.

A soft close portrait of the bride looking down beneath her sheer veil on her autumn ryokan wedding day in Japan.

An older hand holds the bride's hand, and the bride laughs as her mother and two women in black help her get ready with her veil.

In the garden, they saw each other first, away from everyone. The maples were at their reddest. He cried.

In black and white, the bride and groom stand together in the garden at their first look, and the groom smiles as he holds her close.

In black and white, guests look on at the first look, one filming on her phone and others with their hands pressed to their mouths.

The couple seen from above through a blaze of red maple leaves, and the bride and groom kissing behind the autumn foliage.

The groom in a tuxedo and the bride in her lace gown walk arm in arm through the ryokan garden under autumn trees.

Red maple leaves over the garden, and a staff member in a patterned kimono sweeps the white aisle between the ceremony benches.

The bride and groom walk hand in hand through the green garden, and the couple framed in a round window at their ryokan wedding.

The bride holds a cascading white orchid bouquet as she stands with the groom in the green ryokan garden before the ceremony.

A Garden Ceremony at Jinya

The ceremony was outdoors, at the end of a long aisle through Jinya’s garden, under trees that had already turned.

That wasn’t always possible. Jinya had always held its ceremonies indoors, the way weddings in Japan usually are. We asked to take one out into the garden, because couples who come from around the world want to say their vows inside nature, not looking out at it. And we promised there would always be a rain plan. There always is. Some of our favourite Jinya weddings have used it.

Japan has an old word, kotodama, for the spirit that lives in words: the belief that what you say aloud carries a power of its own. Someone told us recently that Jinya’s garden has never looked more beautiful, and it’s true. That’s the gardeners’ work, first and always. But the trees in that garden have now listened to a great many vows, and we like to think some of those words have stayed.

They didn’t want the usual ceremony music. They wanted theirs: the electronic music they love, Gryffin, Porter Robinson, Kygo, Dabin. Nobody had ever written those songs for strings, so the cellist leading the quartet wrote the arrangements himself, one song at a time. When he sent the couple his first demo, of Feel Good, they were so happy with it they dropped the idea of adding a singer. On the day, the guests took their seats to Feel Good and Shelter played on two violins, a viola and a cello. Two speakers carried the sound down the length of the aisle, so even the back row heard every note.

A white monogram sign tied with long black ribbons hangs from the trees at the entrance to the outdoor ceremony in the ryokan garden.

The groom escorts a guest in a navy gown down the aisle, then embraces her at the front of the outdoor ceremony in the garden.

Then the flower boys. Two grown men, entering to Soda Pop from KPop Demon Hunters, scattering petals with total and admirable commitment. It was the biggest laugh of the whole two days, and it came just before the quietest part of it.

Two men in suits and sunglasses stride down the aisle as the flower men, one throwing his arms up as guests laugh under the autumn trees.

Two men in dark suits and sunglasses take on the role of flower men, one waving to guests, as the groom grins in the shade at the altar.

She walked in on her father’s arm to Alive. They walked back out, married, to Tie Me Down.

The bride walks down the aisle between standing guests, and the groom watches from the shade as she arrives at the garden ceremony.

The Vows

A close friend led the ceremony, and it was theirs to shape. They’d asked for it unplugged. No phones, only faces.

She read her vows from pages she’d written. He spoke without a note in his hand, for a long time, and nobody wanted him to stop. Even the vendors were in tears.

Their vows are kept whole, in their own voices, in their wedding film. They belong to them, so we’ll leave the words there.

Guests line the white aisle as the couple stand beneath a white floral arch on the stone steps at their outdoor wedding ceremony in Japan.

The groom speaks his vows into a microphone without notes as the bride smiles at him beneath the white florals of the ceremony.

The groom punches the air as he and the bride walk down the white aisle past cheering guests at their ryokan wedding in Japan.

In black and white, the couple walk back up the aisle as guests cheer, and the groom dips the bride as guests applaud.

The groom stands beside the bride as she looks down beneath her long veil at the altar, surrounded by white florals in the garden.

The bride walks through the ryokan garden in her lace gown and sheer veil, holding a cascading bouquet of white orchids.

Cocktail Hour in the Garden, Made Longer

Most cocktail hours in Japan last exactly that. They asked for two, so there’d be time for photographs with every group and they’d still get to enjoy their own party. They got it.

There was yakitori on the grill, shaved ice, and matcha with wagashi, the tea sweets Jinya serves its guests. The quartet moved on to music from Bridgerton, with a few Studio Ghibli songs in the mix. And there were two signature cocktails, one each: a light, sweet passion-fruit drink for her, and an espresso martini for him.

Two glasses of iced cocktails, each garnished with a small red flower, on a dark table at the cocktail hour of the autumn wedding.

A bartender in a tuxedo holds a cocktail high above the garden bar under autumn trees during the wedding cocktail hour.

The bride and groom stand close beneath the white floral ceremony arch on the stone steps of the ryokan garden after their vows.

The bride and groom stand small at the end of a garden path beneath towering trees, white florals lining the way at the ryokan.

In black and white, the wind lifts the bride's long veil as the groom holds her close in the ryokan garden.

In black and white, the bride looks back over her shoulder as her veil streams out behind her in the garden of the ryokan.

The Reception, Behind a Noren

The reception room had a noren on its door, made just for them.

A noren is the split fabric curtain that hangs in Japanese doorways: over the entrance of a ramen shop, a sento, a family business. Hanging one out says you’re open and you’re welcome. You duck through it, and you’re somewhere else. It was the right thing to walk through into the night.

They came through it under a spotlight, with their wedding party dancing in behind them. Inside: a kaiseki dinner for seventy-one, with every allergy and preference handled course by course, including a gluten-free menu cooked separately for one guest; flowers everywhere; hundreds of candles; a cake from Jinya’s own patisserie; and a photo lounge in the old banquet hall, furnished with sofas we’d had sent ahead.

Candlelit florals on the reception table, and the couple dance through the doors of the reception as guests cheer and clap.

In black and white, the bride and groom dance into the reception hall with their crew, and the groom dances between the tables.

Flair Bartenders and an Open Bar

Warning number two: prepare your liver.

They’d been clear from the start. “We want an open bar.” And about the after party: “Yes to shots!”

So we brought in a team of world-champion flair bartenders and built them a bar from scratch, ordered bottle by bottle weeks before: Japanese gins including one from Kyoto, shiso and nashi pear and cherry blossom liqueurs, white peach, passion fruit, gold leaf, fresh shiso and perilla blossom, and edible violas and snapdragons to float on top of the glasses. Shakers went into the air until the last song.

A monogram seating chart on an easel, and candlelit reception tables filled with pale florals under soft purple light at the ryokan.

The bride and groom pose on a leather sofa with their wedding party in front of gold folding screens in an editorial photo booth.

A bartender in a waistcoat slides two martinis across the bar toward guests at the reception of the destination wedding in Japan.

A row of golden martinis lined up on the dark bar at the wedding reception, the nearest glass in sharp focus.

A First Dance With Choreography

Their first dance began slowly, to Best Is Yet to Come. Then, exactly on cue, it cut to Soda Pop, and their entire bridal party took the floor in a routine they’d rehearsed in secret. Then Golden, and the DJ took over from there.

Every one of those cuts was timed to the second. Our DJ mixed them in advance so the choreography would land. It landed.

The bride twirls in her lace gown beneath the wooden beams of the reception hall, and the couple dance close during their first dance.

A wide view of the reception hall with its chandelier as the groom dips the bride, and the groom lifting the bride on the dance floor.

Guests surge onto the floor around the bride as the choreographed first dance begins, and a packed dance floor under the chandelier of the reception hall.

In black and white, guests pack the dance floor with arms raised, and guests in tuxedos shout along to the music.

In black and white, guests throw their hands up under the lights, and the bride dances in the middle of a crowd of guests.

A guest in sunglasses leapfrogs over a shirtless dancer in a chair as the DJ plays and guests watch the wedding dance party.

In black and white, a shirtless dancer flexes with his arms spread on the dance floor as the bride dances in front of him.

The Last Song

The last dance was Shelter, the song the strings had played in the garden that afternoon, now with the bass in. The floor closed into a circle around the two of them, and everyone sang it, badly and beautifully.

Then the music stopped, because that was the agreement. And this is the part of the weekend we talk about most.

Nobody called for one more. Seventy-one people, still euphoric from the night they’d just had, didn’t try to keep the dance floor going. They took the party back to their rooms. Friends visited friends down the corridors, the talking and the laughing carried on, and the house was still theirs. But the volume came down, the way it does when a crowd disperses, and the night carried on in quieter rooms.

Jinya had given them its whole house and let them celebrate as hard as they liked. Bringing the night down to the inn’s pace was how they said thank you.

Warning number three: prepare to get no sleep. Between two nights of celebrating and a brunch the next morning, they got very little. The neighbours got all of theirs.

The groom in his shirtsleeves dances hand in hand with the bride, then throws an arm up beside her as their guests watch.

The bride and groom dance face to face, and the groom dances with the bride inside a wide circle of cheering guests at the reception.

The bride throws her arms up as she dances with the groom, and the couple hold each other close in the middle of the dance floor.

The Morning After: Brunch at Jinya

On the last morning, there was brunch for everyone, the guests who’d stayed and the ones who came back out for it, with a traditional Japanese breakfast and a Western one side by side. Sixteen rooms had a late checkout, so nobody had to rush to pack.

Seventy-one people, very little sleep, one more meal together, and every story from the night before told again from three different angles. That’s what the second night is for.

A row of golden martinis on the bar, and the bride and groom raise their cocktails to each other in the garden of the ryokan.

The couple stand on a candlelit path beneath tall trees in the ryokan garden, and a close portrait of the bride behind her sheer veil.

Planning a Ryokan Buyout Wedding in Japan

When couples ask us what a ryokan buyout involves, these are the questions we start with.

How many people will stay? A buyout works best when most of your guests stay the night. Here, fifty-four of the seventy-one did, and the rest came in by coach from Tokyo.

How many nights? One night gives you the wedding and the party. Two nights give you the welcome party and the morning after, which is where a group becomes a gathering.

What happens on the first night? Plan it as carefully as the wedding. Food that invites people to move around, something everyone can take part in (a mochi mallet is hard to beat), and nothing too formal.

Can the party go all night? The celebrating can. The dance floor can’t. Even with the whole inn to yourselves, a ryokan sits in a community, and the music has a hard stop. After that the house is still yours: people drift back to their rooms, visit each other and keep talking. What ends is the volume. The inn’s neighbours were there long before the wedding, and they’ll be there long after it. So plan the finale. Make the last song the biggest moment of the night, then let the night move to quieter rooms. Jinya lets you celebrate hard. In return, you respect the way the inn, and Japan, runs. Couples who do that leave with the inn’s respect as well as its memories, and an inn that trusts you is an inn that says yes to the next idea.

Who handles the guests? As your destination wedding planner in Japan, we look after the room plan, dietary needs, coaches from Tokyo, early check-ins, the bar, the sound, the late checkouts and the dozens of small things in between, so that the two of you can be guests at your own wedding.

And the photographs? Two nights give us more than a day ever can: the welcome party, the morning light in the garden, the circle on the dance floor, the brunch. Our photography and film team were there for all of it.

The bride and groom cheer with arms raised at the end of the aisle, and every guest gathered for a group photo in the autumn garden at their ryokan buyout wedding.

Seventy-One Guests, Two Nights, One House

Jinya was built, more than a century ago, as a house for receiving guests. For two nights in November it received seventy-one, fed them lobster curry and kaiseki, poured them everything in that bar, and sent them home on very little sleep.

The groom gave three warnings. All three came true.

Three Warnings for Forty-Eight Hours: A Ryokan Buyout Wedding at Jinya