I've traveled the world with my 3 sons. A day spent in the birthplace of sumo wrestling made Japan their favorite country.

• Wendy Altschuler has traveled around the world with her husband and three sons.
• Her kids agree that Japan has been their favorite destination.
• Sumo wrestling was the highlight of their trip.

My kids have been fortunate to enjoy the benefits of my main work perk as a longtime travel writer: accumulating airline miles.

Of all of the places we've traveled around the world — including Peru, Greece, Dominican Republic, Thailand, India, Singapore, UAE, and Aruba — Japan remains the absolute favorite for all three of my boys.

During our summertime trip to Japan, we explored incense-heavy shrines, wandered through gardens bursting with hydrangeas, marveled at castles, indulged in street food, met wild monkeys, and sauntered through a bamboo forest. The kids made it clear that Japan lights up all five of your senses — no matter what age you are.

We all enjoyed finding a beach full of smooth pottery pieces, remnants from a long-ago shipwreck; and watching a crazy robot show in Tokyo with swirling lights and loud music while eating dinner.

But the highlight of their trip was learning about sumo wrestling.

The whole family tried sumo wrestling

In Nara, near Kyoto and Osaka, we encountered sacred deer that bowed when we fed them crackers. It was near there, at the foot of Mt. Nijo in Katsuragi City, where I had another quest for my boys — to learn about Japan's oldest sport: Sumo wrestling.

Katsuragi is the origin of sumo, Japan's national sport with 1,500 years of history. At Kehayaza Sumo Museum, we took our shoes off and sat in a box seat on top of cushions to watch.

We were the sole spectators at the event that aims to educate visitors on the art of sumo. Rather than attend a Grand Sumo Tournament, which can be difficult to visit with only six tournaments held each year, the museum is much more open, affordable, and accessible for families on a year-round basis.

There was beautiful singing, a display of flags, and rice throwing to purify the elevated ring, which was made of clay and covered in rough sand. Two massive rikishi, or sumo wrestlers, entered the circular ring, the dohyo, wearing only a mawashi, or loin cloth. We observed as the two athletes lifted and stomped each leg, slapped their stomachs, and prepared for the match.

They learned about Japanese culture

Sumo originated as a ritual dance to entertain the gods at shrine festivals. Nowadays, professional sumo has six divisions. Wrestlers move up the ranks depending on their skill, and their pay increases as they progress and evolve. The Grand Champion, or Yokozuna, is an exclusive title that can earn the wrestler 2.8 million yen, or $18,000 per month, per the South China Morning Post.

Tickets for standard seats to the tournaments start at around 2,500 yen and go up to around 20,000 yen for ringside seats. Box seats, which accommodate four people, can cost up to 60,000 yen per box.

A benefit of visiting the museum is that entrance is free for visitors with foreign passports.

We all stepped into the ring

With eyes wide, my boys were dialed in as the straight-faced men collided while endeavoring to push each other to the ground or out of the ring to win the match. We were told that in sumo, often, the opponents aren't the same size or weight, like in American boxing, which allows spectators to root for an underdog.

After the match, my husband was asked if he wanted to try. He cautiously stepped into the ring with the largest of the two wrestlers and went through the entire ritual — tossing the rice in the air, bowing, clapping, crouching down with his fists on the ground, mirroring the correct footwork, and facing his opponent. I went next. Then each of my boys got a chance to test their mettle.

While a referee — dressed in a long red and gold robe, black pointed hat, white belt, and holding a small paper fan — officiated, my boys followed the ceremonial tasks and squared off with their skilled challenger. I'll never forget how the athlete, who seemed so imposing when he was brawling with his opponent, morphed into a playful fellow when my kids each entered the ring.

When the near-naked wrestler picked up my firstborn son, who was 12 at the time, and swung him around by his mawashi, I roared with laughter. I still smile when I think about how high-pitched the wrestler's giggle was, completely contrasting his size and power.

My youngest pressed firmly into his challenger's belly, not moving him an inch, and then, par for the course, he became airborne, just like his older brother. My middle son took a different strategy: he stood on his tippy toes and went for the shoulders, attempting to drive his adversary off balance.

The final match was unfair: all three boys were against their dad. After the match, we thanked the sumo wrestlers for the immersive education.

Later, at home, I organized a postcard writing project in which short travel stories were mailed to isolated seniors. My youngest wrote about getting in the ring with a 400-pound sumo wrestler in Japan: "I was only 8, I obviously lost."