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Metropolis Japan
25-05-2025
- Metropolis Japan
Historic Walks Near Tokyo
Photo Credit to Iyhon Chiu (Flickr) Japan's northern Tohoku region was once a rugged land of deep mountains and wild forests. Anyone traveling there during the ordered days of the Edo period was thought to be risking life and limb for very little gain. Yet people still traveled, and one way of doing so was via the old Nikko Kaido highway. Built to safely connect Edo to the mausoleum of Tokugawa Ieyasu in Nikko, its construction had the unintended effect of solidifying the master status of one of the world's greatest poets. One of the most atmospheric historic walks near Tokyo can be found in Soka, where pine-lined paths trace the journey of haiku master Matsuo Basho. Portrait of Bashō by Hokusai, late 18th century A person would be hard-pressed not to have heard of haiku master, Matsuo Basho. His travels across Japan fine-tuned his poetic craft to such an extent that he became one of Japan's greatest cultural exports. Even now, over three hundred years after his passing, there are still few who could seriously claim to have bettered his art. Often translated as The Narrow Road to the Deep North , his most famous work, the travelogue Oku no Hosomichi , owes its inspiration to Basho's journeys into Japan's wilds, a journey he began from the Nikko Kaido highway. Beginning in what is now Kita-Senju in East Tokyo, Basho soon arrived at the highway's second post station, Soka. The city, once verdantly agricultural, is famous for its senbei rice crackers and commuter town university life, but perhaps owes a verse or two to Basho. His words, ' We barely managed to reach the post-town of Soka by nightfall. My greatest burden was the pack I carried on my thin, bony shoulders. ' An inauspicious start, perhaps, but Soka was now permanently scribed on the map. Leaving the next day, Basho traveled further, wrote deeper, and became a national legend. The city maintains its connection with Basho's Edo-era times. During those years, hundreds of pine trees were planted along the Nikko Kaido highway. These trees, including more recently planted ones, still line what is now the Soka Matsubara Promenade. It's a designated National Place of Scenic Beauty. At the time of its recognition in 2013, there were 634 pine trees lining the promenade. The city has worked hard to ensure that the legacy of Basho, as well as its own, remains accessible. Replete with reminders of Basho, the promenade follows the north-south flow of the Ayase River. It is an extension of the area's Fudabagashi Park. Standing sentinel at the entrance to the promenade as it leads north is a replica wooden Edo period bourou watchtower. Once used for spotting fires in flammable old Japan, the tower's crisp geometric shape marks the metaphorical border between Basho's old life and the new one he would come into during his travels. A beautiful touch, a little further on, is the lifesize bronze statue of Basho. He glances backwards towards the old city of Edo as he steps forward into the north. Watching over it is a verse engraved in stone by the esteemed scholar of Japanese literature, the late Donald Keene. A hagi bush-clover tree planted by Keene further honors Basho's connection with Soka. The promenade features two particularly impressive bridges. One, Yatate Bridge, was so named because of a famous line in Basho's travel diary that references the portable yatate brush-and-ink case he used to begin his writing. Yatate Bridge. Photo from Japan Travel The bridge's arched structure offers elevated views of both the pine trees and the river. Further along, an even more impressive bridge is the similarly arched Hyakutai Bridge. Inspired by the very first line of Oku no Hosomichi, hyakutai literally means '100 generations' and refers to eternity. The pines of the promenade certainly seem peacefully ageless. Given the influence of Basho's poetry, the naming of this bridge is most appropriate. As if a nationally recognized promenade wasn't enough, the city celebrates Matsuo Basho's place in its history with the annual Soka Matsubara Dream Festival. Making its debut in 2015, this relative newcomer to the summer festival scene takes place on the first weekend of July. It features some lovely night illumination of the promenade's pine trees as well as the Yatate and Hyakutai bridges. Traditional Japanese street stalls are, of course, aplenty, while boat rides along the Ayase River are a popular attraction. Each year, the organizers find new ways to appear, with some years seeing rickshaw and even hot-air balloon rides. Japan has changed incredibly since the three centuries when Basho left the old Edo capital on his journey into the wild lands. What hasn't changed, however, is the extraordinary respect and admiration that one of Japan's greatest masters continues to inspire. Small though it may have been, Soka's role in nurturing that inspiration was both real and pivotal. It's now easily enjoyed by thousands of visitors annually. Take the Tobu Skytree Line to Dokkyo Daigaku Mae Station (formerly known as Matsubara Danchi Station) to access this historic walk near Tokyo. The Soka Matsubara Promenade is just a five-minute walk from the East Exit. For easy day-trips near Tokyo, check out our other guides: Kawagoe Day Trip: Historic Streets, Sweet Shops and Edo-Era Charm Kanagawa Neighborhood Guide: Things to Do in Yokosuka
The Advertiser
25-05-2025
- The Advertiser
Beyond the ski slopes: take a hidden trail through Japan's poetic wilderness
Natagiri Pass in Tohoku sits away from Japan's popular ski trails. In 1689, the area - in the north-east of the main island of Honshu - was made famous by Japan's most famous haiku poet, Matsuo Basho, when he penned his travelogue, The Narrow Road to the Deep North. To explore the area in the thick of winter you need specialised equipment, and on an adventurous tour with walking experts, Walk Japan, I donned snowshoes to embark on a hike through deep snowfall. Without a soul in sight, the untouched trail lay before our small group like a scene from a Disney fairytale. During the 17th century, the pass was known for its lawlessness and when Basho journeyed through the forest, he feared bandits, but we had no such concerns. Inspired by the quiet beauty of the snow-laden cedar trees, we attempted our own three-line haikus, following the 5-7-5 syllable count, but our unskilled attempts were more ditty than poetry.
New York Times
22-04-2025
- New York Times
Why Japan Is Best Experienced By Foot
Japan's most celebrated poet, writing in the 17th century under the name of Matsuo Basho, found his truest home on the road. Sleeping on a grass pillow, seeking out auspicious places from which to watch the full moon rise, living not quite as a Zen priest and not quite as a layman, he is best remembered for the monthslong travels he took on foot. Yes, sometimes he found a horse to ride but, most often, he was traipsing along in straw sandals, engaging with fellow travelers — an aging priest, two itinerant concubines — and keeping a diary (in poetry and prose) of what he saw and felt. The country that changed modern culture and design, from A to Z In giving voice to what he called this 'windswept spirit,' he was consciously following in the footsteps of a great line of spiritual ancestors famous for their long walks. The elderly monk Zoki headed out toward the shrine-filled pathways of the eastern forests known as Kumano in the 10th century, sleeping at times in a shelter made of branches, recording the wistful cries of deer, the rustle of autumn insects. A century and a half later, a courtier named Saigyo gave up his position as a palace guard to become a wandering poet and monk. Basho even invokes the 13th-century nun Abutsu, who in her mid-50s made the two-week walk along the Tokaido, the crowded seaside highway leading from the official capital of Kyoto to the de facto one at Kamakura, to present an inheritance claim in a court of law. Roaming in the wake of such immortals, as he considered them, Basho thought of his walks as a spiritual discipline. In making his climactic journey along what he called 'the narrow road to the deep north,' he was visiting not just a remote part of his country but the neglected corners of himself, otherwise obscured by society and routine. The full moon he sought is a classic Buddhist image of enlightenment. Nobody could claim that walking is peculiar to Japan; Chaucer had sent his pilgrims toward Canterbury centuries before Basho was born. But Japan has long given the world an image of men and women quitting the busy world for a life of clarity and simplicity. In his classic essay on walking, Henry David Thoreau might have been drawing on the Basho who wrote, 'My solitude shall be my company and my poverty my wealth.' Explore More Read the editor's letter here. Take a closer look at the covers. Want all of The Times? Subscribe.
Yahoo
11-04-2025
- Yahoo
An inside guide to Tohoku—Japan's historic ryokan region
The Tohoku region of Japan is synonymous with the great 17th-century writer Matsuo Basho — whose journey into the north of his country was recorded in his masterpiece, The Narrow Road to the Deep North. The land he described was one of holy mountains, samurai castles, pine forests and wayside inns strung along post roads: a wild and beautiful frontier where the landscapes stirred the poet's pen. In the 21st century, Tohoku is served by ultra-fast Shinkansen trains and crossed by multilane highways. But in the midst of it, you can still find bucolic scenes that would have been familiar to Basho, for this is a region still mercifully distant from Japan's well-trodden tourist path. And, indeed, you might lodge as the poet did, in a ryokan, which (despite the addition of mains electricity and wi-fi) have remained, in essence, unchanged for generations. Ryokans can be traced back to the eighth century; however, they came of age during the early Edo period (1603 to 1867) — during which Basho was travelling — when merchants and samurai were on the move. Step inside a ryokan today, and you immediately cross a threshold into the past. The hubbub of the wider world subsides to a reverent hush; shoes are exchanged for slippers and hard floors for tatami mats. Your host may offer you a matcha tea; the water poured from a blackened kettle boiled on an ancient hearth. Here, you might begin to grasp the philosophy of omotenashi — a word that approximates to 'wholehearted hospitality'. Many ryokans have been in the same family for centuries, and for their staff, hosting guests isn't merely a career, but a higher calling. The accommodation in ryokans bears little resemblance to what's found in Western-style hotels (also available across Japan). Paper screens exist within guestrooms to act as dividers instead of walls, and futons are generally offered rather than beds (though tatami bed options are still available in some ryokans). Indeed, you'll notice little adornment inside, save for the tokonoma — alcoves in which objects such as flowers and calligraphy are placed to reflect the changing seasons. Guests are encouraged to wear yukata — a kind of light kimono — to harmonise with the setting. This also makes for a kind of equality — a kinship with the other guests, as well as all those who have stayed before. One of the main appeals of lodging at a ryokan is quieting the mind: gazing out over pebble gardens or stands of bamboo in courtyards, listening to the creak of ancient timbers and the gurgle of rain in the gutters. But a stay in one is also about refreshing the body. Ryokans often have their own onsen — the thermal springs found across Japan. These naturally heated baths often exist in place of conventional bathtubs — and can either take the form of private facilities in individual guest rooms or communal affairs (in turn, divided into men's and women's facilities, and only in rare instances mixed). In all cases, however, you'll have to adhere to strict onsen etiquette. First shower thoroughly, then pat yourself dry with a washcloth before entering the waters. All bathers must be naked — no swimwear is allowed, though the most seasoned onsen goers deftly balance their washcloths on their heads. The onsen waters vary depending on location and mineral content: some are straw-coloured with a distinct smell, while others have a milky hue and are odourless. Many are visited for their reputed anti-ageing powers, and a few supposedly help with ailments like rheumatism. In all cases, they're richly soothing: there's no feeling quite like gazing out over a ryokan garden while submerged in warm waters fresh from the ground below. An onsen is often enjoyed before kaiseki — the meal served to ryokan guests in their rooms or private dining areas. Kaiseki involves a number of courses served in a specific order, with a strong focus on seasonality. Such a meal evokes the banquets served to noble travellers in centuries past. Ryokans exist throughout Japan, but some of the most characterful are in Tohoku. Head to the little town of Dake Onsen — set among the mountains of Fukushima Prefecture — to check in at Hanakanzashi, a ryokan that's been in the same family for seven generations. The onsen is supplied by a spring on the lower slopes of the Mount Adatara stratovolcano, five miles away. Another good choice is Tendoso — a ryokan with its origins in the 19th century, in the town of Tendo Onsen, Yamagata Prefecture. From its very beginnings, Tendoso was known for serving unagi — freshwater eel — a dish that features in kaiseki banquets, cooked in a sauce whose recipe has never been shared outside the owners' family. It's a short hop from Tendo Onsen to the ancient mountaintop temple of Yamadera — visited by Basho in The Narrow Road to the Deep North, where the poet famously heard the sound of cicadas among the rocks. Further north, and right by the Kurikoma Quasi-National Park, is the town of Naruko Onsen, home to Ryokan Ohnuma, which is distinguished by an indoor onsen adorned with ceramic murals, in addition to an al fresco onsen in the woods nearby. It's a charmingly rustic affair, in contrast to the rather palatial ryokan at Wabizakura, where new lodgings have been constructed around a 200-year-old merchant's house outside the samurai town of Kakunodate. The highlight here is another outdoor onsen set on the edge of a magnolia forest: an oasis of deep peace in the deep north of Tohoku. This paid content article was created for the Japan Tourism Agency. 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