On Japan's Rural Coast, One Sleepy Town's Locals Are Vying For the Megacities' Travelers

Condé Nast Traveler

2 days ago

This is part of Uncovering Japan, a collection of stories that spotlight the lesser known gems that belong on your Japan itinerary, offering everything from a wellspring of local craft and a vibrant street-food culture to traditional wellness. Read more here.
There is a small and rather unremarkable city of 30,000 people in one of Japan's rather unremarkable prefectures, located around three hours due north by train from Kyoto, called Obama. It would have remained that way were it not for something strange and serendipitous that happened in 2008: On the other side of the planet, the United States elected a president who shares his name with the oft-forgotten destination—an event that would unbury this little burg from its hardened obscurity.
The town of Obama is located three hours north of Kyoto and stretches out into the Sea of Japan.
William Sean Brecht
Obama, in Japanese, roughly translates to 'little beach'—a fitting moniker for a city that yawns along a protected cove facing the northerly Sea of Japan. And when American political happenstance lent its name new relevance, its citizens came up with a plan to capitalize on their good fortune—not only to stoke the embers of tourism but to give their home a fighting chance of staving off the depopulation that has plagued many of the country's minor metropolises.
Without the glittering towers of Tokyo, or the palaces and pagodas of Kyoto, Obama couldn't necessarily leverage its attractions, new or old. So locals made a bold bet on another cultural currency: its people. While soft smiles and polite words are the signature aspect of the Japanese hospitality experience, visitors can find it hard to pierce the veneer of 'omote'—an outward facing polish that can prove to be a major hindrance to the deeply connective experience many of us travelers crave. But this is not the case in Obama, where its citizens are focused on nurturing more genuine relationships with foreigners, duly inviting them into the fold.
Without the glittering towers of Tokyo, or the palaces and pagodas of Kyoto, Obama couldn't necessarily leverage its attractions, new or old. So locals made a bold bet on another cultural currency: its people.
And the wager is starting to pay off. With a soaring number of tourists—emboldened by the feeble yen—Japan's conduits of connectivity are already becoming clogged with the steadily accruing crowds. As a visitor, suddenly I craved the Japan I had discovered 20 years ago in my teens, and by the recommendation of a friend, I soon found myself at a rather unremarkable train station on a cold, snowless night late last December.
Via MyTownObama, the author visited with geishas not for traditional dancing or shamisen playing; instead they talked for hours.
Brandon Presser
Obama's last remaining okiya, or geisha house, is inhabited by three generations who trained in Kyoto's illustrious hanamachi districts.
William Sean Brecht
I had arranged through MyTownObama for a locally based guide to pick me up, and not long after, we were ringing the doorbell of Obama's last remaining okiya, or geisha house, which is inhabited by three generations of these entertaining artisans. Although the grandmother of the house had retired, she briefly entered the salon in her house clothes to offer me an orange. Her daughter and granddaughter, both dressed in brilliant autumnal-themed robes, had trained in Kyoto's illustrious hanamachi districts, though there was no traditional dancing or shamisen playing tonight. Instead we talked for hours—no-holds-barred conversations that started with questions about life as a geisha before evolving into heated discussions about everything from favorite K-pop artists to post-Obama-era (the president this time, not the city) politics.
Despite the late night I rose early the next morning to watch a fleet of fishing vessels bring in the latest catch and fill an entire depot with styrofoam boxes of crab, squid, and fish. Long ago, the fishermen explained, there existed what was called the saba-kaido, or mackerel highway, where local traders moved seafood from the port in which I stood across the mountain passes and down to feed the nobles in capital city Kyoto. This was also the channel through which many of Japan's major influences, including Buddhism, are thought to have reached the country's seat of power. Archaeological evidence proves that local merchants were trading with China as early as 300 CE; the elaborate pavilions Myotsu-ji temple complex were built contemporaneously with Kyoto's most storied—and most visited—places of worship, though you would never know it, as I had the entire campus to myself. The friendly abbot, on his break, walked me through.
Fukui Hakusan Heisenji is in a valley an hour and a half north of us, about a 20-minute drive east of Fukui city. It's a great stopping-off point on the way into or out of Obama and/or as a day trip from Obama.
William Sean Brecht
Even today Obama is always looking beyond its borders. A walk down its main commercial streets will reveal a French-style bakery where staff serve the best croissants this side of the Pacific; a Thai restaurant that spins a mean curry (but only until 9:30 p.m., when the owner gets into his pajamas and crawls into bed upstairs); a chic vintage-eyewear boutique where the manager will let you try on every frame in the store; and an impossibly cool leathersmith who uses European techniques to craft one-of-a-kind wallets and satchels. He'll also brew you a thick cup of java from his proprietary batch of African shade-grown beans, if you ask nicely.