Common Scams in Japan 2026

Touts — I’m sure you’re wondering what a tout is. Imagine you’re walking down a street in Shinjuku or Shibuya. A nicely dressed man stops you and says there’s a bar right around the corner with cheap drinks. That man is a tout. You think, what a nice guy, and head to the bar. A few drinks later, a worker hands you a bill for $500 when it should have been $50. You start arguing, and the staff tell you, “You not leaving here unless you pay.” This scam is very common in touristy areas. Be careful!

Pickpocketing — Japan is one of the safest countries in the world. People leave their bags on café tables to hold their seat and walk away. Nobody touches them. That’s exactly why this one gets you — you let your guard down.

Imagine you’re on the Yamanote line at rush hour. The train is packed. You’re shoulder to shoulder with strangers, one hand on the rail, the other on your phone. Someone bumps into you. You don’t think twice, because everyone is bumping into everyone. You get off at Shinjuku, reach for your wallet, and it’s gone.

It happens in crowds. Busy trains, festivals, Shibuya Crossing, nightlife areas like Kabukicho and Roppongi late at night. And here’s the thing — most tourists in Japan are carrying more cash than they ever would back home, because so many places don’t take card. That makes you a bigger prize than you realize.

How to protect yourself:

Wear your backpack in front of you. On a packed train, your back is somewhere you can’t see. Swing it around and hug it.

• Never put your phone or wallet in your back pocket. It’s the easiest pocket in the world to reach into. Front pocket, zipped bag, or inside jacket.
• Face your zippers toward your body. If a thief has to turn your bag around to open it, you’ll feel it.
• Split up your money. Don’t keep your cash, cards, and passport in one place. Leave your passport and a backup card at the hotel and carry only what you need for the day.
• Watch out for distractions. Someone spills something on you. Someone drops a bag of coins. Someone asks you to take a photo. One person makes you look away, and their partner works while you’re busy.
• Don’t hang your bag on the back of your chair. In a crowded izakaya, that bag is behind you and out of sight for hours. Keep it in your lap or between your feet.
• If it happens, go to the nearest koban. These are the little police boxes on street corners, and there’s almost always one nearby. You’ll need a report for your travel insurance — and honestly, in Japan there’s a real chance your wallet gets turned in.

Stay aware in crowds. Be careful!

Fake Taxis

This one usually gets you before you’ve even left the airport.

You land at Narita after a twelve-hour flight. You’re jet-lagged, you’re dragging a suitcase, and your phone isn’t connected to anything yet. You’re standing in the arrivals hall trying to figure out the train when a man in a suit walks up to you. He speaks English. He says he can take you straight to your hotel in Shinjuku, no transfers, no waiting. He quotes you a price that sounds about right for a country you’ve never been to. You follow him out to a black sedan in the parking garage.

There’s no meter. Or there is one, and the number at the end has nothing to do with it. You pull up to your hotel, and he tells you it’s ¥40,000. The card reader is broken. It’s cash only. Your suitcase is still in his trunk.

Here's what you missed: his license plate was white.

Every licensed taxi in Japan has a green plate with white numbers. Commercial vehicles get green plates — taxis, buses, delivery trucks. A private car has a white plate. That’s it. That’s the whole tell, and it’s why Japanese people call these cars 白タク (shiro-taku), “white taxis,” named after the plate.

This works because you’re exhausted, you have no idea what a taxi to Tokyo should cost, and the guy is polite. In a country where everything runs on time, and nothing goes wrong, you assume nothing will.

How to protect yourself:

• Check the plate. Green means licensed. One second, one glance, before you get in. White plate, no ride.
• If they approach you, it’s not a taxi. Same rule as the touts. Real drivers wait at the rank, or they wait for the app. They don’t work the arrivals hall.
• Use GO or Uber. GO is the app most people in Japan actually use, and Uber works too. Both dispatch real licensed taxis, both show you the car and the plate before it arrives, both handle payment in the app, and neither one requires you to explain your hotel address in Japanese.
• At the airport, use the official rank or the train. The taxi ranks are signposted and staffed. And honestly, the Narita Express, the Skyliner, and the limousine buses are faster and a fraction of the price.
• Know what a real taxi looks like. Light on the roof, company name on the door, driver’s ID displayed on the dashboard, and a back door that opens by itself. Don’t touch the door. It’s a nice moment the first time.
• Watch the meter start. It should read the base fare when you get in and start climbing when you start moving. No meter running, no ride.
• Don’t agree to a flat price on the street. The meter is the price. The only exception is a fixed-fare airport service booked at an official counter.
• If it goes wrong, don’t go to an ATM. Get out, get your bag, and get to a koban. Fake taxi drivers are not looking to explain themselves to the police.

Japanese taxis are expensive, so a price that sounds like a deal should make you more suspicious, not less. But you don’t need to know the fares to stay safe here. Just look at the plate.

Romance Scams

This one stings more than the others, because for a little while you thought someone liked you.

You’re on Tinder or Bumble in Tokyo. You match with a woman. Her photos are great, her English is good, and she replies fast. Faster than anyone else you’ve matched with. She’s fun to talk to and seems genuinely interested in you. After a day or two of messages, she suggests meeting up. She already has a place in mind — a bar she loves, one you’ve never heard of. She sends you the location or offers to meet you at the station and walk you over.

You show up. She’s real, she’s there, she’s exactly like her photos. You have a great night. She orders a few drinks, maybe some food, and encourages you to keep up with her. Then she goes to the bathroom.

She doesn't come back.

The bill comes, and it’s $600. You argue. Staff blocks the door. Sometimes they walk you to an ATM. She’s already on her way to the next match, and she gets a cut of whatever you paid.

This works because everything about it feels normal. Meeting a match at a bar is what you’re supposed to do. Nothing about the night feels like a scam until the very end.

How to protect yourself:

• You pick the bar. This is the whole scam in one sentence. If she insists on a specific place, especially one you can’t find reviews for, that’s your answer.
• Be suspicious of a fast, specific venue suggestion. A real person suggests a neighborhood — “somewhere in Ebisu?” A scammer suggests an address.
• Look the bar up before you go. No Google Maps listing, no reviews, no website, no photos — don’t go. Real bars in Tokyo have a footprint.
• Watch for the walk. If she meets you at the station and leads you down an alley, into a random elevator, and up to the fourth floor of an unmarked building, you can still leave. Nothing has happened yet.
• Ask for a menu with prices before you order anything. If they won’t give you one, walk out.
• Reverse image search her photos. Takes ten seconds. Stolen photos come up.
• Never let anyone take you to an ATM. That’s no longer a billing dispute. Get outside, get to a koban, and call your embassy if you need to.

If it happens, don’t pay just to end the night. Say you’ll settle it with the police and start walking toward the door. These bars operate on you being too embarrassed to make a scene — and embarrassment is exactly what they’re selling.

Fake Monks

This one is strange, because it’s hard to imagine a monk scamming you. That’s exactly why it works.

You’re at Sensoji in Asakusa, or outside Shibuya station, or somewhere along a busy shopping street. A man in orange or maroon robes, shaved head, prayer beads, walks up to you. He bows. He doesn’t ask for anything at first — he just hands you a small gold-colored bracelet or a laminated card, and he puts it in your hand before you’ve decided whether you want it. Then he holds out a notebook. Inside is a list of names, countries, and donation amounts. ¥5,000. ¥8,000. ¥10,000. Every line is a foreigner who came before you.

He points at a blank line and hands you the pen.

You’ve already got the bracelet. He’s standing there. People are walking past. You give him ¥5,000 because that’s what the guy above you gave, and because giving it back now feels rude.

The bracelet is worth about a hundred yen. He is not a monk. This is a franchise operation that runs in Tokyo, Kyoto, Osaka, and about thirty other cities worldwide — the same notebook, the same bracelets, the same script in Paris, New York, and Sydney.

Here’s the part most tourists don’t know: real Japanese monks don’t do this. Buddhist monks in Japan do practice takuhatsu, a form of alms-gathering — but it looks completely different. They stand still. They wear a large woven straw hat, plain robes, and straw sandals, and they carry a bowl. They don’t approach you, they don’t make eye contact, they don’t speak, they don’t hand you merchandise, and they will never, ever follow you down the street.

How to protect yourself:

• A monk who approaches you is not a monk. Same rule as the touts and the fake taxis. In Japan, the person who comes to you is the problem.
• Don’t accept the bracelet. The object in your hand is the whole scam — it’s designed to make you feel indebted before any money is mentioned. Keep your hands down and keep walking.
• The notebook is a prop. Those names and amounts were written by the guy holding it. It exists to tell you what you’re supposed to pay.
• You can just walk away. No explanation, no apology, no eye contact. Say nothing and keep moving. They will not chase you, because a scene is bad for business.
• If you already took it, hand it back and go. You don’t owe him anything for something you didn’t ask for.
• Want to donate to a real temple? There’s an offering box at every one. Put money in the box. That’s how it works.

It’s a small loss compared to the other scams in this list — you’re out five thousand yen, not fifty thousand. But this one leaves a bad taste, because it uses your respect for a place against you. Don’t let it sour your visit. Keep walking, and go put a coin in the box instead.