Where Beer Began, and Never Left

If you care about craft beer, Yokohama might be the most underrated city in Japan.

Tokyo has volume—countless bars, international selections, the sheer variety that comes with scale. But Yokohama has something different: density, history, and a brewing culture that feels less like a trend and more like a continuation.

Six Breweries, Ten Minutes

Within a ten-minute walk of where I live, there are six microbreweries. Not bars that serve craft beer. Breweries—places where the tanks are visible, where the beer travels meters from fermentation to glass.

Each has its own character. Some focus on IPAs and experimental hops. Others lean traditional, with lagers and pilsners. One has recently expanded into gin, distilling spirits in the same space where they brew.

The variety is not curated by a corporate portfolio. It is the natural result of independent makers working in close proximity, each following their own vision.

You could, in theory, visit all six in an afternoon. One pint at each. You would not make it home sober. But you would understand something about this city that no guidebook captures: Yokohama does not just consume craft beer. It produces it, at a density that rivals anywhere in Japan.

Beyond the Breweries

The microbreweries are only the beginning.

Craft beer bars are scattered across the city, many carrying rotating taps from domestic and international brewers. Bottle shops stock selections that would satisfy any enthusiast.

And the events—not just the large festivals at Akarenga or Osanbashi, but smaller, recurring gatherings—pair local brews with food in settings that feel more like neighborhood parties than commercial promotions.

For beer lovers considering life in Japan, this matters. Tokyo offers access to almost anything, but often at the cost of time and transit.

In Yokohama, the scene is walkable. You finish work, stroll to a brewery, and sit with a fresh pour while the evening light fades over the harbor. It is not an outing. It is just how the day ends.

The City Where Japanese Beer Was Born

There is a reason craft beer took root here, and it is not accident. Yokohama is where beer in Japan began.

In the late 1800s, using spring water from the hills of Motomachi, a brewery was established that would eventually become Kirin—one of Japan's largest beer companies. The water that flowed from these slopes was considered ideal for brewing, and foreign settlers in the newly opened port city brought the knowledge and taste for European-style lagers.

This history is not loudly advertised. There are no theme parks dedicated to it, no beer museums demanding your attention. But the lineage is there, embedded in the city's relationship with brewing.

Yokohama did not adopt craft beer as a recent fashion. It returned to something it had always known.

A Culture, Not a Scene

What strikes me about Yokohama's craft beer world is how unforced it feels.

In some cities, craft beer arrives as an import—a lifestyle marker borrowed from Brooklyn or Portland, packaged for local consumption. Here, it feels indigenous. The brewers are locals. The regulars are neighbors. The events are not about hype but about gathering.

This is consistent with everything else I have observed about Yokohama. The city does not perform its identity. It simply lives it. The waterfront is not an attraction—it is a backyard. The parks are not destinations—they are daily life. And the breweries are not scenes to be seen at—they are places where people drink good beer, quietly, without fanfare.

One Pint at a Time

If craft beer is part of how you live—not as a hobby, but as a texture of everyday life—Yokohama offers something rare in Japan.

Proximity. You do not travel to drink well. You walk. Depth. The brewing is happening here, not imported from elsewhere. History. This is not a city chasing a trend. It is a city continuing a tradition it started over a century ago.

And Integration. The beer culture is not separate from the rest of the city's character. It is part of the same fabric—the waterfront, the festivals, the low-friction lifestyle that makes ordinary days feel a little richer.