September 29th is Lucky Cat Day in Japan  also known as “Kuru Fuku Maneki-neko no Hi”, the day of the beckoning cat that brings good fortune.

The date itself contains a little piece of Japanese wordplay. In Japanese, 9 can be read as “ku”, while 29 can be read as “fuku”, giving kuru fuku , “fortune comes” or “good fortune is coming.”

What better day, than, to celebrate the maneki-neko, Japan’s much loved beckoning cat.

With its raised paw, bright expression and unmistakable air of optimism, the maneki-neko has become one of Japan’s most recognisable symbols. You will find these charming ceramic cats welcoming people into shops, restaurants and homes, their raised paws inviting in customers, prosperity, good fortune or happiness.

And there is perhaps no better place to celebrate Lucky Cat Day than Tokoname 常滑市 in Aichi Prefecture Japan where I visited this June.

Famous for its long history of pottery and ceramics, Tokoname is also one of Japan’s foremost centres for the production of maneki-neko. Here, the beckoning cat is not simply a souvenir it is part of the character and identity of the town.

As you wander through Tokoname, cats appear in unexpected places, in shop windows, along walls, in pottery studios and among the winding streets of the Yakimono Sanpo-michi, the town’s famous Pottery Footpath.

And watching over it all is Tokonyan, the enormous ceramic guardian cat whose face peeks over a wall above the town.

So, on September 29th,perhaps it is worth paw-sing for a moment and appreciating what these little cats represent.

They are a simple wish for something good to come our way. A little more happiness. A little more prosperity. A little more kindness. And, perhaps, a little more fuku “good fortune.”

So let’s take a walk through Tokoname and discover the story of the town where the beckoning cat truly feels at home.

Welcome to Tokoname The Town of Maneki-neko

Located on the western coast of Aichi Prefecture, overlooking Ise Bay, Tokoname is a town with a remarkable connection to ceramics. It is one of Japan’s historic Six Ancient Kilns, with a pottery tradition stretching back more than a thousand years.

Today, Tokoname is perhaps best known for its beautiful red Tokoname-yaki pottery, but there is another ceramic creation that has become just as closely associated with the town, the maneki-neko, or beckoning cat. Walk through Tokoname and you soon discover that these cats are everywhere.

They sit outside shops, peer from windows and appear amongst the pottery. Some are tiny enough to hold in your hand, while others are enormous and impossible to miss.

In fact, one of Tokoname’s most famous residents is Tokonyan, a gigantic ceramic maneki-neko overlooking the town.

Tokonyan has become something of a symbol of Tokoname. His huge white head and raised paw greet visitors as they arrive along the town’s famous Manekineko Street, where rows of ceramic cats line the wall.

But the connection between Tokoname and the maneki-neko is not simply about making souvenirs.

The town’s long-established pottery skills provided the perfect setting for the development of these distinctive ceramic cats. As demand for maneki-neko grew, Tokoname became one of Japan’s major production centres, and the figure became an important part of the town’s identity. Perhaps that is what makes visiting Tokoname so special.

Here, pottery isn’t something that simply sits behind glass in a museum. It is woven into the streets, the buildings, the shops and the everyday life of the town.

And among all those pots, tiles and ceramic treasures, there is always a cat somewhere, quietly raising its paw and beckoning you onwards.

Maybe that is exactly what a maneki-neko is supposed to do.

Come this way.

Good fortune is waiting.

Before we follow the lucky cats through the streets of Tokoname, it is worth taking a step back and discovering the story of the town itself. Because long before Tokoname became famous for its maneki-neko, it was famous for something else entirely pottery.

The story of Tokoname-yaki, or Tokoname ware, began around the early twelfth century. The area had many of the things a pottery making community needed, good quality clay, gentle hills where kilns could be built, and access to the sea, which made it possible to transport pottery to other places.

Over the centuries, Tokoname’s potters developed their skills and techniques, producing everything from large storage jars to cooking vessels and, eventually, the beautiful red-clay kyusu teapots for which Tokoname is still famous.

Perhaps one of the most fascinating things about Tokoname is that its pottery history isn’t confined to a museum.

You can walk through it.

The Pottery Footpath – Yakimono Sanpomichi winds through the old pottery district, where the landscape itself tells the story of the town.
Old kilns, brick buildings, ceramic pipes, pottery walls and traditional houses appear along the way.

There are two main routes. The shorter Course A is around 1.6 kilometres, while Course B extends for about 4 kilometres and takes visitors deeper into Tokoname’s pottery history.

As you walk along the foot path you may notice pottery beneath your feet. Look at the walls and you may find old ceramic pipes and tiles. Turn a corner and another pottery studio or gallery appears.

It is a town where clay seems to have become part of the landscape.

Tokoname’s pottery tradition has also continued to evolve. The town became particularly well known for its red clay teapots, while ceramic production expanded over the years into practical objects such as pipes, tiles and other architectural ceramics.

And then, in the twentieth century, another ceramic object began to play an increasingly important role in Tokoname’s story. The lucky cat.

Artisans began producing ceramic figurines in Tokoname in the late 1930s, and by 1950 the city had become Japan’s leading production centre for maneki-neko. Suddenly, the connection between Tokoname and Lucky Cat Day begins to make perfect sense.

This was a town that already possessed centuries of knowledge about clay, moulding, shaping and firing. The humble beckoning cat found a natural home here and over time, it became one of Tokoname’s most recognisable symbols. So when you walk through Tokoname today and find yourself surrounded by cats, remember that you are also walking through more than a thousand years of Japanese pottery history.

The cats may beckon you into Tokoname, but it is the clay that tells you why they belong here.

Tokonyan and the Famous Lucky Cat Street

If you are exploring Tokoname, there is one resident you simply cannot miss.

Meet Tokonyan.

Peeking over a wall above the street, this enormous ceramic cat looks as though he is keeping a watchful eye over the town below. With his raised paw and enormous round face, Tokonyan has become one of the most recognisable symbols of Tokoname. His name is a playful combination of Tokoname and nyan, the Japanese sound for a cat’s meow.

Tokonyan was created in 2008, and he is certainly not a small cat. He measures approximately 3.8 metres high and 6.3 metres wide, making him one of Japan’s largest maneki-neko. Although visitors see only his enormous head and raised left paw, his presence is hard to miss.

There is something rather wonderful about arriving in Tokoname and suddenly discovering this giant cat looking down at you.

And, of course, Tokonyan isn’t alone.

Leading towards Tokonyan is Tokoname Manekineko-dori, or Lucky Cat Street. This is where Tokoname’s love affair with the maneki-neko really comes to life.

Along the street are 39 colourful ceramic cats, each created by artists connected with Tokoname. Rather than being identical, every cat has its own character, appearance and blessing. Among them are cats associated with wishes for things such as good health, a happy marriage and success in completing a task.

I love the idea that you can walk along the street and stop to meet each one. They aren’t simply decorations. Each cat has its own little personality and its own wish to offer. Some look serious, some mischievous, some rather dignified and others simply make you smile.

And if you look carefully around Tokonyan’s wall, there is another little surprise. Eleven smaller, lifelike cats are tucked around the giant guardian, almost as though they have gathered together beneath his watchful gaze. It makes the whole scene feel rather magical.

The Manekineko has always been about welcoming something good into our lives. The raised paw is based on the Japanese gesture of beckoning. Traditionally, a cat raising its left paw is associated with beckoning people or customers, while a right paw is associated with good fortune and wealth. So perhaps Lucky Cat Street is more than just a fun place to photograph. As you walk from Tokoname Station towards the Ceramic Hall and the beginning of the Pottery Footpath, you are quite literally being beckoned into Tokoname’s world of pottery and good fortune. And that seems wonderfully appropriate.

After all, this is a town whose pottery tradition goes back more than a thousand years , and where ceramic craftsmanship eventually helped make Tokoname one of Japan’s leading centres for the production of maneki-neko.

By the time you reach Tokonyan, surrounded by all those smaller cats, it is easy to understand why Tokoname has become known as the city of beckoning cats. Perhaps the best thing to do is simply stop for a moment, look up at Tokonyan, and let him do what a maneki-neko does best, beckon you onwards.

What Does a Maneki-neko Mean?

Once you start noticing maneki-neko, you soon realise that no two cats are quite the same.

Some raise their left paw, others their right. Some are white, some golden, some black or red. Some hold a large coin, while others simply sit with their paws raised, patiently waiting to welcome good fortune.

But what do all these differences mean?

The name maneki-neko comes from the Japanese words maneki, meaning “beckoning”, and neko, meaning “cat”. So, quite literally, the maneki-neko is a beckoning cat.

And that raised paw is at the heart of its charm.

Which paw is raised?

Traditionally, a cat with its left paw raised is associated with attracting people and customers. This is why you will often see left-pawed cats welcoming visitors into shops and restaurants.

A right paw raised is traditionally associated with inviting good fortune, wealth and prosperity.

You may also find cats with both paws raised, which can represent protection or the wish to invite both good fortune and prosperity.

There is something rather lovely about this simple gesture.

The cat isn’t pointing the way or telling you what to do.

It is simply beckoning.

Come in.

Come closer.

Something good may be waiting for you.

What about the colours?

The colours of maneki-neko can have different associations too.

Gold is perhaps the most familiar and is commonly connected with wealth, prosperity and good fortune.

White can represent purity and happiness.

Black maneki-neko are traditionally associated with protection and keeping away misfortune.

Red is sometimes associated with health and protection from illness.

And there are many other colours and interpretations, particularly with contemporary maneki-neko.

In Tokoname, you will discover an amazing variety of designs, from traditional cats to colourful modern creations. This is one of the things I love about seeing them here the tradition is still evolving.

And what is that coin?

Many maneki-neko hold a large oval coin called a koban.

The koban was a type of gold coin used in Japan during the Edo period, and on a maneki-neko it represents wealth and prosperity.

Some cats also have writing on their coins, expressing wishes for good fortune, prosperity or success. Of course, these little details aren’t meant to guarantee that riches will suddenly appear.

For me, that isn’t really the point. The maneki-neko is a symbol of hope and invitation, a reminder to welcome the good things that may come our way.

So what makes Tokoname’s cats special?

Perhaps it is because here, the maneki-neko is connected directly to the town’s centuriesold pottery tradition.

The cats are made from the same material that has shaped Tokoname’s identity for generations, clay.

Walking through Tokoname, you can see the whole story coming together. The ancient pottery kilns. The traditional streets. The workshops and galleries. The little ceramic cats.

And finally, the enormous Tokonyan looking down over the town.

It feels as though the maneki-neko has found exactly the right home.

And then we come back to September 29th “Lucky Cat Day.”

Ku – nine.

Fuku – twenty-nine.

Kuru fuku – fortune comes.

Perhaps that is the most charming message of all.

We don’t know exactly what tomorrow will bring, but we can choose to welcome it with an open heart.

And perhaps, somewhere in Tokoname, a little ceramic cat is already raising its paw to say:

“Come this way. Good fortune is coming.”

But most of all, I think it is the feeling that the maneki-neko represents, the little reminder to welcome good things into our lives, to appreciate the places we visit and the memories we make, and to keep our eyes open for the unexpected moments of happiness along the way.

So, on September 29, Lucky Cat Day, wherever you are, perhaps take a moment to think of Tokoname, a town shaped by clay, tradition and an extraordinary number of beckoning cats.

And if you ever find yourself in Tokoname, follow the raised paws, wander the pottery streets, say hello to Tokonyan and see where they lead you.

Imawo 今を

Hidden inside the pottery town of Tokoname, I found one of the most beautiful little vegan cafés and I just wanted to mention here on this blog post.

Imawo  is a fully vegan café inside a 100 year old kominka (traditional wooden townhouse) , tucked along the old pottery walking paths of Tokoname.

The whole space is built around sustainability and creativity renovated using reclaimed materials and filled with handmade, upcycled objects. It feels less like a café and more like stepping into a quiet artistic sanctuary.

There are some quirky features “find the hidden door to a secret room”

The food is entirely plant based, with beautifully crafted dishes that reinterpret familiar Japanese comfort foods in vegan form.

And they even serve a charcoal black vegan monaka ice cream that comes with a little tradition make a wish before you eat it.

Outside, the streets wind through old ceramic workshops, hidden alleys, clay walls, and historic kilns. Tokoname itself feels like a forgotten corner of old Japan.

今を (ima wo) Which literally means:

“the present moment” “Imawo” probably carries the feeling of “living in the now” or “cherishing the present.” Which is definitely the feeling I want to remember on my visit to Tokoname.

Every year on 11th August, Japan celebrates Mountain Day (Yama no Hi), a national holiday that encourages people to appreciate the country’s mountains and the important role they have played throughout Japan’s history and culture.

Visiting Japan over the years has given me the opportunity to explore some incredible places, and recently I visited somewhere that I think perfectly captures the spirit of Mountain Day Mount Nokogiri (鋸山) in Chiba Prefecture.

I’d seen photographs of its dramatic cliffs and giant stone Buddha before, but nothing quite prepared me for experiencing it in person.

From the moment I arrived, I realised that Mount Nokogiri isn’t simply a mountain to climb. It’s a place where nature, history and spirituality come together in a way that’s unlike anywhere else I’ve visited.

Standing at just 329 metres, Mount Nokogiri isn’t one of Japan’s highest mountains, but what it lacks in height, it more than makes up for in character. Its name translates as “Saw Mountain,” inspired by the jagged ridgeline that resembles the teeth of a traditional saw.

Mount Nokogiri’s distinctive appearance has been shaped by people as much as by nature. For centuries, this mountain served as one of Japan’s most important stone quarries. The high quality Boshu Stone quarried here was transported across Tokyo Bay and used to build castles, warehouses, sea walls and many of the buildings that helped Edo, now Tokyo, grow into a thriving city.

Towering rock faces rise above the pathways, with huge vertical cuts revealing where generations of stonemasons painstakingly removed enormous blocks of stone by hand. It’s difficult not to stop and imagine the incredible amount of work that once took place here. Rather than detracting from the landscape, these quarry walls have become part of what makes Mount Nokogiri so fascinating today.

On the day I had planned to visit the rain had already settled in (it was June “Japanese rainy season after all”) by the time I arrived at Mount Nokogiri low cloud clung to the mountainside, softening the sharp edges of the ancient quarry walls, while a fine mist drifted silently through the trees. The familiar scent of damp earth, moss and rain soaked stone filled the air, making the whole mountain feel wonderfully timeless.

It wasn’t the clear, panoramic day many visitors hope for. The famous views across Tokyo Bay remained hidden behind a veil of cloud. Yet somehow, it felt as though the mountain was revealing something far more intimate.

On a bright summer’s day, Mount Nokogiri is known for its sweeping vistas and dramatic scenery. But wrapped in rain and mist, it became a place of quiet reflection. The ancient quarry walls seemed even more imposing as they emerged from the fog, while the temple grounds felt almost suspended in time.

The weather softened every sound and blurred every distant outline, inviting me to slow my pace and notice the details of centuries old stone, tiny ferns growing from cracks in the cliff, droplets gathering on weathered statues and the rich, earthy fragrance that only follows a summer rain.

The rain didn’t hide the mountain’s beauty; it revealed a different side of it. One that felt peaceful, mysterious and deeply connected to the centuries of history held within its forests and stone.

As I wandered through the rain, I found myself thinking about the Japanese idea of yūgen (幽玄) a quiet, mysterious beauty that can’t quite be put into words.

Often described as a profound awareness of the beauty and mystery of the universe, yūgen is less about what can be explained and more about what can be quietly experienced. It’s the feeling that comes from standing before a mountain range disappearing into mist, watching light shift across a valley, or sensing the vastness of nature without needing to put it into words.

Rather than revealing everything at once, it invites you to imagine what lies just beyond your sight.

The drifting mist became part of the landscape rather than an obstacle. The quarry walls appeared and disappeared with the passing clouds, temple roofs emerged briefly between the trees before fading once more into the grey, and even the giant stone carvings seemed reluctant to reveal themselves all at once.

It was a reminder that beauty doesn’t always announce itself with bright sunshine or sweeping panoramas. Sometimes it lives in softer moments the scent of rain on ancient stone, the vivid green of moss after a summer shower, and the quiet rhythm of footsteps echoing along centuries old paths.

Mountains have a unique way of awakening that sense of wonder, inviting us to simply pause, observe, and appreciate what words can never fully capture.

One line from the Japanese writer Jun’ichirō Tanizaki has stayed with me over the years. In his book In Praise of Shadows, he explores how Japanese aesthetics often find beauty in shadow, subtlety and suggestion rather than brightness and clarity.

One of the highlights of the visit was exploring Nihonji Temple, whose grounds stretch across the mountainside.

Founded in 725 AD, the temple has stood here for nearly thirteen centuries, quietly watching over the mountain through changing seasons and changing times. Unlike many temples that centre around one main building, Nihonji encourages visitors to wander.

Stone staircases disappear into the trees, small statues appear unexpectedly beside woodland paths, and peaceful corners invite you to slow down and simply enjoy the surroundings.

There was a wonderful sense of calm that seemed perfectly suited to the mountain itself, I guess because of the weather there was no one else around.

One of the moments I had been looking forward to most was seeing the Nihonji Daibutsu.

Photographs simply don’t convey its true scale.

Standing over 31 metres tall, it is the largest seated stone Buddha in Japan and represents Yakushi Nyorai, the Buddha of Healing.

Despite its enormous size, what struck me most wasn’t how impressive it looked, but how peaceful it felt.

There is something incredibly calming about standing quietly in front of the Buddha, surrounded by trees and the sounds of nature. It’s easy to understand why people have visited this place for centuries.

As I climbed the winding paths through Nihonji Temple, every step seemed to disappear into the mist ahead. Water trickled gently over the rock faces, the moss glowed an almost luminous green against the dark stone, and the only sounds were birdsong, the occasional rustle of leaves and the steady patter of rain on my umbrella.

If the Great Buddha is peaceful, then the Hyaku Shaku Kannon is simply breathtaking.

Carved directly into the towering quarry wall, this immense relief sculpture stands around 30 metres high.

Looking up from its base, it’s almost impossible not to feel small in comparison.

The statue of Kannon, the Buddhist Goddess of Compassion, was created as a memorial for those who lost their lives through war and industrial accidents, giving the monument an added sense of meaning beyond its remarkable craftsmanship.

The surrounding quarry walls somehow make the sculpture feel even more dramatic. It’s one of those places where photographs struggle to capture the true scale of what you’re seeing.

As I continued exploring Mount Nokogiri, I realised that every part of the mountain tells a different story.

Its forests remind us of Japan’s natural beauty.

The quarry ruins speak of centuries of hard work and craftsmanship.

The temple reflects over 1,300 years of faith and tradition.

And the giant stone carvings demonstrate both artistic skill and spiritual devotion.

It’s rare to find all of these elements woven together in one place.

Mountain Day is about appreciating Japan’s mountains, but it’s also about recognising everything they have given to the country. Mount Nokogiri feels like the perfect example of that idea.

It isn’t simply somewhere to enjoy beautiful scenery. It’s a mountain that has provided building materials, inspired artists, welcomed pilgrims and continues to attract visitors who come to admire both its natural beauty and its remarkable history.

Looking back on my visit, I realise that Mount Nokogiri offered so much more than I expected.

It wasn’t just another day trip.

It was a chance to step into over a thousand years of history while surrounded by some of Chiba’s most beautiful landscapes.

As I made my way back down the mountain, the mist showed no sign of lifting. I never caught a glimpse of Mount Fuji, nor the sweeping views across Tokyo Bay that draw so many visitors here. Yet I didn’t feel that I’d missed out. If anything, I felt I’d been invited to see a different Mount Nokogiri one that revealed itself quietly, through rain darkened stone, emerald moss and the gentle hush of cloud drifting through ancient temple paths. On a day dedicated to celebrating Japan’s mountains, I couldn’t have asked for a more fitting reminder that not all beauty demands to be seen clearly. Sometimes it is the mountains we experience through mystery that stay with us the longest.

As Japan celebrates Mountain Day each August, encouraging people to appreciate the country’s mountains, I found myself grateful that I experienced Mount Nokogiri in these conditions.

If you’re ever looking for somewhere that combines spectacular views, fascinating history and peaceful temple grounds, I couldn’t recommend Mount Nokogiri enough.

(And don’t be put off by the rain!)

If you would like to read more about other mountains I have visited in Japan please search “Yama no Hi”

Hidden on the edge of Shinjuku, Kagurazaka blends old Tokyo charm with a distinctly European feel, earning it the nickname “Little Paris.” Once famous as a lively geisha district, today its quiet cobbled lanes are lined with stylish boutiques, contemporary galleries, French style cafés and traditional ryotei which are exclusive, traditional Japanese restaurants that are highly private, luxurious establishments where guests enjoy kaiseki (multi-course) meals. 

One of the greatest pleasures of exploring Kagurazaka is wandering its network of hidden alleys, where the distant hum of modern Tokyo seems to soften and fade into the background, replaced by a quieter, more intimate atmosphere.

Hyogo Yokocho is one of the area’s most atmospheric lanes. Its narrow stone pavement is lined with traditional restaurants and elegant ryōtei concealed behind wooden gates and bamboo fences, where the faint clink of dishes and the murmur of conversation can be heard from the pavement.

Just a short walk away is Kakurenbo Yokocho, or “Hide-and-Seek Alley.” The name reflects a time when the neighbourhood’s teahouses were so discreet that only those who had been invited could hope to find them. Today, the cobbled lane retains that same sense of mystery, with the gentle rustle of movement behind hidden entrances and the occasional creak of wooden gates adding to its hushed ambiance.

Beautifully preserved buildings and the soft glow of lanterns in the evening create an atmosphere that feels remarkably untouched by time. Strolling through these historic alleys offers a glimpse of the refined world that once defined Kagurazaka and continues to give the neighbourhood its unique charm.

This maze of passages has a quaint little game you can play while you’re walking the cobbled alleys. Hidden amongst the cobbles are ones with various shapes for you to find.

The decorative paving stones are known as inishie no koban (いにしえの小判), although many people simply refer to them as Kagurazaka’s “lucky paving stones.” During the neighbourhood’s streetscape improvements in the 1980s and 1990s, the city installed granite paving in many of the historic alleys. Scattered among the ordinary cobbles are a small number of specially carved stones featuring different motifs.

Heart said to bring success in love or help you find romance.

Star associated with success, hopes and good fortune.

Diamond believed to bring prosperity and financial luck.

Some visitors also mention other symbols, such as flowers or gourd-shaped stones, but the heart, star and diamond are the ones most commonly recognised.

What’s particularly charming is that there is no official map showing where they are. Part of the fun is simply wandering Kagurazaka’s backstreets and spotting them by chance. Locals and repeat visitors often keep an eye on the ground as they explore Hyogo Yokocho, Kakurenbo Yokocho and the surrounding lanes, hoping to discover one hidden among the regular granite blocks.

Sadly I didn’t find one.

I actually think this is one of the loveliest little traditions in Tokyo. It says a lot about Kagurazaka, rather than rushing from one famous sight to the next, the neighbourhood rewards curiosity. Looking down at the cobbles can be just as rewarding as looking up at the historic buildings. It’s a wonderfully fitting detail to include in a walking guide.

You never know what you might come across tucked away.

Zenkokuji Temple

At the heart of Kagurazaka stands the vibrant red Zenkokuji Temple, a temple with a history stretching back more than 400 years. Founded in 1595, it is dedicated to Bishamonten, one of Japan’s Seven Lucky Gods. Known as the guardian of warriors and the protector of Buddhist teachings, Bishamonten is also associated with good fortune, prosperity and the granting of wishes, making the temple a popular place for prayer throughout the year.

One of the temple’s most distinctive features is the pair of tiger statues standing guard at the entrance to the main hall. While many temples and shrines are protected by lion like guardians, Zenkokuji’s tigers reflect Bishamonten’s close association with the animal in Buddhist tradition. According to legend, he was born in the Year of the Tiger, on the Day of the Tiger and at the Hour of the Tiger, making the tiger an enduring symbol of his strength, courage and protective power.

Despite being located in the middle of bustling Kagurazaka, the temple offers a peaceful atmosphere. Visitors come not only to admire its striking vermilion buildings but also to light incense, offer prayers and seek blessings for success, good fortune and protection.

It’s easy to see why this historic temple has remained an important spiritual centre in the neighbourhood for more than four centuries.

The temple also holds many annual events, including the Setsubun bean throwing ceremony in February.

Akagi Shrine

Further uphill, is Akagi Shrine. The shrine itself dates back to around 1300, but the buildings were destroyed during the Second World War and the entire complex was beautifully redesigned in glass and wood in 2010 by architect Kengo Kuma combining traditional spirituality with sleek modern design.

Standing quietly at the entrance to Akagi Shrine are a pair of stone komainu 狛犬 the lion dog guardians that watch over Shinto shrines throughout Japan. At first glance, I assumed they were centuries old, but their clean lines and gentle expressions made me wonder if they might actually be much newer.

As it turns out, they almost certainly are. Unlike the weathered, fiercely carved komainu found at many historic shrines, the guardians at Akagi Shrine are believed to have been created as part of the shrine’s major redevelopment, completed in 2010. Their simplified forms and understated character complement the shrine’s striking contemporary design by architect Kengo Kuma, creating a thoughtful balance between ancient tradition and modern architecture.

Like all komainu, the pair stand as spiritual guardians. One traditionally has its mouth open, forming the sound “A”, while the other has its mouth closed, representing “Un”. Together they symbolise the beginning and the end, the completeness of all things and protect the sacred space beyond.

What I find especially appealing is that these statues don’t attempt to imitate the past. Instead, they demonstrate that shrine traditions are still evolving. The guardians fulfil the same symbolic role they always have, but their modern design reflects the shrine they protect respectful of history while confidently embracing the present.

It’s a lovely reminder that not everything at a shrine has to be ancient to feel authentic. Sometimes tradition is carried forward not by copying what came before, but by expressing familiar ideas in new ways.

Other points of interest Tsukudo Hachiman shrine widely regarded as a guardian shrine for the Kagurazaka vicinity and Denchuji Temple A quieter and lesser known temple.

The temple sits in a backstreet area away from Kagurazaka’s main slope and shopping streets, which gives it a very “old Edo pocket” atmosphere.

Many visitors walk straight past the district without realising small temples like this survive between apartment blocks and modern buildings.

Atami-yu

Hidden away in one of Kagurazaka’s narrow backstreets is Atami-yu, one of the neighbourhood’s last remaining traditional sento, or public bathhouses.  Atami-yu, features a gable roof, which was a common feature in sento public bathhouses during the Showa period (1926-1989).

Opened in 1954, it has long been part of everyday life in this historic district. During Kagurazaka’s heyday as one of Tokyo’s most celebrated geisha quarters, geisha would bathe here before preparing for an evening’s engagements and return afterwards to wash away their elaborate make-up. Today, little has changed inside. A traditional Mount Fuji mural overlooks the baths, the water is still heated using wood fired boilers, and stepping through the entrance feels like travelling back to a quieter, more nostalgic Tokyo. Tucked beneath the stone steps known as Atami-yu Kaidan, the bathhouse remains a wonderful reminder of the close knit community that once revolved around Kagurazaka’s geisha culture. I think Atami-yu is one of those places that really captures the character of Kagurazaka. Unlike the modern elegance of Akagi Shrine or the bustle of the main shopping street, it preserves the everyday life of the neighbourhood a place where local residents and geisha alike came simply to bathe, chat and relax.

Continue along Kagurazaka’s bustling main street and you’ll discover a neighbourhood where tradition and contemporary culture blend effortlessly. Michelin starred kaiseki restaurants sit alongside cosy French bistros and elegant pâtisseries, a legacy of the area’s long standing French community. Independent boutiques offer everything from handmade ceramics and artisan crafts to vintage vinyl records, while narrow side streets reveal bookshops, galleries and quiet cafés tucked away behind unassuming doorways.

Yet the true charm of Kagurazaka lies beyond its shops and restaurants. Turn down almost any alley and you’ll find stone paved lanes, traditional wooden buildings and softly glowing lanterns that recall the neighbourhood’s past as one of Tokyo’s most celebrated geisha districts. It’s a place where every corner invites exploration, rewarding those who wander with unexpected discoveries and a glimpse of a slower, more intimate side of the city.

Whether you’re visiting for its remarkable history, exceptional food or simply the pleasure of getting lost among its hidden streets, Kagurazaka offers an experience that feels both timeless and distinctly Tokyo.

Tokyo is a city that never seems to slow down, with its neon lit streets, crowded stations, and endless attractions competing for attention. Yet beyond the capital’s fast pace lie pockets of calm where visitors can experience a different side of Tokyo. Shibamata and Jindaiji are two such places, charming districts that feel worlds away from the urban rush. With their traditional streets, historic temples, and relaxed atmosphere, both make perfect afternoon escapes for anyone looking to step back in time and enjoy a quieter, more nostalgic side of Japan.

Shibamata and Jindaiji share that nostalgic, slower paced atmosphere while each offering something distinctive Shibamata with its old town charm and connection to the Tora-san films, and Jindaiji with its temple grounds, soba culture, and surrounding greenery. If you’re wanting to escape the madness of Tokyo for an afternoon here are my two of my recommendations.

Shibamata 

Tucked away in Tokyo’s northeastern corner, Shibamata time capsule town offers a glimpse of a slower, more nostalgic Japan. Far removed from the skyscrapers and bustling shopping districts of central Tokyo, this charming neighbourhood has survived wartime damage and retained much of its traditional atmosphere. Visitors are welcomed by a retro shopping street lined with family run stores, local snack vendors, and historic buildings that evoke the spirit of the Showa era.

Shibamata is perhaps best known as the setting of the beloved Otoko wa Tsurai yo film series, whose wandering protagonist, Tora-san, remains a local icon. Whether you’re strolling through the lively Taishakuten Sando, visiting the beautiful temple grounds, or enjoying the peaceful riverside scenery, Shibamata offers a refreshing escape from the city’s fast pace and a chance to experience a more authentic side of Tokyo.

Despite feeling a world away from central Tokyo, Shibamata is surprisingly easy to reach by public transport. From Tokyo Station, take the JR Sobu Line to Koiwa Station and transfer to a local bus, or travel via the Keisei Line from Ueno to Keisei Takasago Station before changing to the Keisei Kanamachi Line. Shibamata Station is only a short ride away and places you right at the entrance to the historic district.

As you exit the station, you’ll be greeted by a bronze statue of Tora-san, marking the beginning of your journey through one of Tokyo’s most charming and traditional neighbourhoods.

Walking through the shopping street gate you may be intrigued by the shops selling figures of golden poo. Apparently these are supposed to bring you luck as the pronunciation for luck and poo in Japanese are similar.

The streets are lined with traditional food shops many being there for generations. Above and in the shops you may see Kumade 熊手 an ornamental, decorated bamboo rake said in Japanese culture designed to symbolically “rake in” good fortune, wealth, and professional success.

One of my favourite stops along Taishakuten Sando was Shibamata Haikara Yokocho, a delightful shop that captures the atmosphere of Japan in the 1950s and 60s.

Filled with traditional dagashi sweets, vintage toys, and nostalgic memorabilia, it felt like stepping into a childhood memory from another era. Visitors can even enjoy a small toy museum featuring retro arcade games and pinball machines.

As I browsed the shelves, I picked up a box of Pon Tan Ame, a classic Japanese sweet that has been enjoyed for generations. The soft citrus flavoured candy is wrapped in a thin edible starch paper, which dissolves as you eat it a simple but charming detail that makes it feel wonderfully old fashioned and these ones are vegan friendly. Sampling these nostalgic treats while wandering through Shibamata added another layer to the area’s timeless appeal.

Continuing along Taishakuten Sando, I passed Toraya, one of Shibamata’s most iconic sweet shops, and part of the set of the Tora-san films. With its traditional façade and long history, it is easy to see why visitors are drawn inside for a taste of the area’s famous kusadango. Even from the street, the shop adds to the nostalgic atmosphere, its presence a reminder of the generations of travellers who have followed the same path towards the temple.

The walk itself is part of the experience. Between the historic sweet shops, family run businesses, and displays of local delicacies, Taishakuten Sando feels less like a tourist attraction and more like a living piece of old Tokyo. Every storefront seems to tell a story, inviting visitors to slow down and savour the journey rather than rush to the destination.

At the end of Taishakuten Sando stands Taishakuten Temple, the spiritual heart of Shibamata. Founded in 1629, the temple has long been a place of worship and reflection, drawing both local residents and visitors seeking a moment of peace away from Tokyo’s busy streets.

Passing through the temple gates, the lively atmosphere of the shopping street gives way to a sense of calm. The beautifully carved wooden buildings showcase remarkable craftsmanship, while the temple grounds with its flying dragon pine tree invite visitors to slow their pace and take in their surroundings. One of the highlights is the exquisite wood carvings that decorate the main hall, depicting scenes from Buddhist teachings in extraordinary detail.

During my visit, I found the contrast between the bustling approach and the tranquil temple grounds particularly striking. After exploring the nostalgic streets of Shibamata, Taishakuten felt like the perfect place to pause, reflect, and appreciate the enduring traditions that continue to shape this charming corner of Tokyo.

Just a short walk from Taishakuten Temple, I visited Yamamoto-tei, a beautifully preserved traditional residence that offers a peaceful retreat from the outside world. Originally built in the 1920s as the home of a successful businessman, the house combines Japanese and Western architectural styles, reflecting a fascinating period in Japan’s history.

Stepping inside, I was immediately struck by the tranquillity of the gardens. Large windows frame carefully landscaped scenery, creating living pictures that change with the seasons.

Finding a table on the tatami overlooking the garden, I enjoyed a freshly prepared matcha while taking in the view. The experience encouraged a slower pace, allowing me to appreciate the quiet beauty of the surroundings and reflect on the afternoon’s discoveries.

After wandering through Shibamata’s nostalgic streets and visiting Taishakuten Temple, Yamamoto-tei felt like the perfect place to pause. The combination of traditional architecture, serene gardens, and matcha tea made it one of the most memorable moments of my visit.

To round off my visit, I took a leisurely walk along the banks of the Edo River. Away from the shops and temple visitors, the riverside path offered a quieter side of the district, with open views and a relaxed atmosphere that made it easy to slow down and enjoy the surroundings.

My destination was Kasai Shrine, a lesser known spot with a unique attraction a sacred snake that has become a point of interest for visitors.

It is a place where people come to pray for financial luck, here you will see not only snake statues which are associated with financial luck but they are combined with the golden poo. Walk over the red bridge and you will be greeted by “Nadeja-sama” look at the snakes face how does it make you feel? What you see gives you your fortune. The plaque to the side of the statue gives you your fortune. Stroke its face to fulfill it.

The shrine provided a peaceful setting and a fascinating glimpse into local beliefs and traditions. After spending the afternoon exploring Shibamata’s nostalgic streets, historic temple, and tranquil tea house, the walk to the shrine felt like a fitting conclusion to a day spent discovering a different side of Tokyo.

As the river flowed quietly beside me, it was hard to believe that the energy and crowds of central Tokyo were only a short train ride away.

Jindaiji A Bus Journey Away from the City

Just a short journey from the city lies Jindaiji, a place where time seems to slow down and the atmosphere changes completely.

Known for its ancient temple, tranquil gardens, and famous soba noodles, Jindaiji offers a glimpse into a quieter side of Japan.

To get to Jindaiji take the train to Kichijōji on walking out the station you will see a circle of buses in front of you (you don’t need these buses) instead walk left and around the corner there you will see a row of bus stops on the main road, you will need bus stop number 6 directly outside Don Quijote.

You will need to take bus number 4 which goes directly to Jindaiji which is the last stop. The bus takes about 25 minutes, as soon as you arrive it’s hard to believe you’re just a short bus ride away from Tokyo. It felt less like a tourist attraction and more like stepping into a place where history and everyday life exist side by side.

Walking towards the temple you will find an avenue of soba noodle restaurants and shops.

The moment I arrived, I was surrounded by towering trees, the gentle sound of flowing water, and the comforting scent of incense drifting through the air.

For centuries, the area has been renowned for producing some of the finest buckwheat noodles in Japan. The fertile land wasn’t well suited to growing rice, so local farmers turned to buckwheat instead. Combined with the area’s exceptionally pure spring water, it proved to be the perfect recipe for delicious handmade soba.

Today, traditional soba restaurants line the streets leading to the temple, each preparing fresh noodles using time honoured methods.
Sitting down for a bowl of soba after exploring the temple has become a tradition for both locals and visitors alike, and it’s an experience that perfectly captures the spirit of Jindaiji.

However the broth in which the soba noodles are served or the dipping broth for cold zaru soba will not be vegan. However there are shops selling fresh soba noodles that you can take home to enjoy.

Water has always played an important role in Jindaiji’s history. Natural springs flow throughout the area, providing the pure water that helped establish both the temple and the local soba making tradition.

The surrounding woodland, gentle streams and charming pathways make Jindaiji one of Tokyo’s most peaceful destinations.

Rather than rushing from one attraction to another, visitors naturally slow their pace, enjoying the sounds of birdsong and the beauty of the changing seasons.

Every March, Jindaiji also hosts one of Japan’s largest Daruma Doll Fairs. Thousands of people gather to purchase the famous red Daruma dolls, symbols of perseverance, determination and good fortune. It’s a colourful tradition that has been celebrated for hundreds of years.

At the end of the path is Jindaiji temple.

Founded in 733 AD, Jindaiji is the second oldest temple in Tokyo, after Senso-ji in Asakusa. It belongs to the Tendai school of Buddhism and has been a place of worship for nearly 1,300 years. The temple is dedicated to Amida Buddha and is surrounded by beautiful wooden buildings, peaceful gardens and natural springs surround the complex, creating an atmosphere that encourages quiet reflection. Walking through the grounds, it’s easy to appreciate why this has remained an important place of worship for generations.

Unlike some of Tokyo’s busier attractions, Jindaiji feels wonderfully unhurried. Visitors are encouraged to explore at their own pace, taking in the beauty of the surroundings and the history held within its ancient buildings.

Jindaiji offered a completely different side of Japan from the busy streets of Tokyo. It wasn’t about bright lights or crowded shopping districts, but about history, tradition and simple pleasures.

I even managed to find some vegan snacks soft warm kusamochi and sobadango which were both delicious and freshly made.

Whether it was wandering through the ancient temple grounds, enjoying freshly made dango, or simply sitting quietly beneath the trees and enjoying the sound of the waterwheels, I found Jindaiji to be one of the most relaxing places on my journey.

It reminded me that some of the most rewarding travel experiences aren’t always found in the busiest destinations, but in the peaceful corners where history, nature and local culture come together.

If you’re looking for somewhere that captures the spirit of traditional Japan without travelling far from Tokyo, Jindaiji is a place that truly deserves to be discovered. Why not give the quieter side of Tokyo a try on your next visit.

Where green meets the plate, two green escapes rooted in nature. A tale of two sister plant based cafes that should be on every Japan itinerary. Where plant based dining flourish surrounded by nature.
Green space, Great Food, One inspiring Vision…..

Heading back to Tokyo from Gunma I wanted to make a stop at 1110 cafe bakery 川口・埼玉カフ

Kawaguchi/Saitama Cafe

Just outside Tokyo, hidden among old industrial buildings, 1110 CAFE/BAKERY feels like a peaceful escape as soon as you enter the gardens full of cherry blossom trees.

This fully vegan café and bakery in Kawaguchi is known for its plant based brunches, fresh artisan breads, cinnamon rolls, seasonal pastries, and beautifully presented dishes made entirely from natural ingredients.

With the popular “The Cinnamon Roll” as a signature item. &  craft “_SHIP” kombucha on the premises.

Surrounded by a huge green garden, the atmosphere blends modern industrial design with quiet countryside calm making it one of Japan’s most aesthetic vegan cafés.

The original owners of the property started as  foundry makers, making  manhole covers and iron works and the wife of the owner planted the garden you can now enjoy while relaxing with your meal. Then the family went on to property management while generations lived on the site in their family home.

After many family generations the current owners have now turned the area into the cafe and kombucha brewery you see today.

I was very lucky to be granted a tour of the old family home and estate.

I also got to meet the master kombucha craftsman trying their delicious range  of organic certified “_Ship” kombucha.

If you’re not familiar with kombucha it is a slightly sparkling beverage made by fermenting tea and scoby (Symbiotic Culture of Bacteria and Yeast) It is characterised by fruity acidity and refreshing taste.

The fermentation process creates live, friendly bacteria that may support gut health and digestion. It contains various B vitamins and organic acids produced during fermentation. Especially when made with green tea, it provides polyphenols that help reduce inflammation and protect the body’s cells.

Making it the perfect beverage for the health conscious.

I started my tasting with “original” which was very much like sparkling wine it has a fruity aroma and would pair very well with a special meal, having a tartness reminiscent of white grape and pear.

The next was pickled kito yuzu from Tokushima Prefecture which was light and refreshing, having a rich aroma and sour taste.

I also tried red shiso which had a perfect summertime fragrance it has the appearance of pale rose wine.

And lastly the hops,carrying flavours of grapefruit and scents of lychee and herbs. The bitterness of hops is refreshing and I think it would be a delicious alternative to having a cold beer being non alcoholic you can have it any time of day.

From vegan Eggs Benedict and kombucha to freshly baked artisan bread and pastries enjoyed beneath the trees, every detail feels slow, peaceful, and thoughtfully crafted.

I decided to choose breakfast items and went for an açai bowl which contained  granola cacao nibs and fresh berries.

Along with french toast which came with ice cream and vegan cream & of course a cinnamon roll which was warm and freshly baked crispy on the outside and soft inside.

This cafe is a hidden gem for café lovers and anyone looking for the quieter side of Tokyo.

The cafe is currently celebrating their 6th year by offering some special menu and seasonal items.

5-4-1 Ryoke, Kawaguchi City, Saitama Prefecture

Open

WEEKDAY 10:00-17:00

WEEKEND & HOLIDAY 8:00-17:00

Brooks Greenlit Cafe twinned with 1110 cafe bakery

PLANT BASED, BEYOND TASTE.

A variety of plant based menus that defy the bland image.

Enjoy the deliciousness and satisfaction of combining 100% plant derived ingredients with the power of fermentation, such as salt koji, miso, and amazake, based on the theme of “plant-based x fermentation x sustainability.”

Brooks Greenlit Cafe had their opening debut in December 2024 the phrase “GREENLIT” (meaning “Go sign”) implies the intention of spreading plant based (GREEN) in a playful and sophisticated form (LIT) without being overbearing.

The hope is that you will take the first step towards a sustainable future in a fun way.

As a step towards a sustainable future through plant based cuisine, the cafe which is based in  Aoyama propose a more free, playful, and sophisticated style with exciting food and a welcoming atmosphere.

This cafe is owned by 1110 cafe bakery so expect to see their house made fermented sparkling tea “_SHIP KOMBUCHA,” which is served up in a wine glass.

Their original kombucha is perfect to enjoy like a glass of wine without the alcohol while the hops can be drunk like a cool glass of beer to refresh on a hot day.

Their seasonal menu features plant based ingredients that value the blessings of nature and consideration for the environment.

With dishes ranging from plant based artisanal sandwiches using dough made from a blend of Hokkaido-grown “Yumechikara” wheat with oatmeal kneaded into it, nourishing salad and açai bowls and refreshing drinks such as kombucha floats along with smoothies and cold pressed juices.

The cafe has a chill ambience, set in a tranquil hideaway urban oasis space right next to Aoyama Park which, is dog friendly. Brooks Greenlit Cafe is a lovely place to relax for breakfast with a coffee as they open early at 8am

Why not give their next generation signature tunacado 2.0 sand a try layered with house made plant based tuna mayo and creamy avocado. Or their fermented bolognaise grilled eggplant sand, featuring a rich bolognese paired with sautéed eggplant, topped with plant based fermented cheese for added depth and umami.

I went for their vegan egg sandwich which was creamy and had a lovely crunch with the toasted bread.

I also had another açai bowl which felt super nourishing. Brooks is a place where you can refresh yourself with food in harmony with nature and take a step towards protecting the earth.

A place where vegans and non vegans alike can enjoy their meals together with peace of mind.

I only regret that these two places are not my local cafe if you live in Tokyo please stop by or if you’re visiting do not miss these places on your vegan cafe and restaurant list.

They also have a range of snacks and accessories you can takeaway.

_Ship kombucha can also be found at the following partner stores.

Again I wish I could buy this kombucha in the U.K. it’s that delicious!

4-minute walk from Aoyama-itchome Station / Free Wi-Fi / Pet Friendly

MIDORI.SO AOYAMA 1F, 1-7-12 Minami-Aoyama, Minato-ku, Tokyo 107-0062, Japan.

Open 8:00-18:00

At both these cafes it is a place to feel the changing seasons with your family, beloved dog, or friends.

When I decided to base my next trip to Japan on seeing Ajisai (hydrangeas) I knew I needed to make another day trip to kamakura and visit some of the best and less known temples for this gorgeous rainy season bloom.

But first breakfast.

27 COFFEE ROASTERS KAMAKURA

Just a 2 minute walk from the east exit of kamakura station.

I was looking for a cafe for a light breakfast and coffee and found a little gem at 27 COFFEE ROASTERS KAMAKURA  a beautiful café dedicated to ethically sourced Honduran coffee, roasted with so much care and intention. The atmosphere is peaceful, the coffee is incredible.

Always love discovering cafés that appreciate quality ingredients, sustainability, and thoughtful coffee culture.

If you’re plant based, it’s definitely worth checking what vegan friendly drinks or treats they have available on the day. They offer a veggie plate which is vegan and was perfect to start my day on my Ajisai walking trail of the temples for kamakura. Slow mornings, specialty coffee, and Kamakura vibes.

After a breakfast to fuel the morning I took the train back up one stop to Kita-Kamakura to start my walking trail.

My first stop was Meigetsu-in 明月院 also known as Ajisaidera (“Hydrangea Temple”)

Tucked away among the quiet hills of Kita-Kamakura is Meigetsu-in.

During hydrangea season, the temple paths are transformed into a sea of 95% soft blue blooms of the hydrangeas Hime Ajisai (“Princess Hydrangea”) a variety, which are coloured blue. So iconic they even have their own name“Meigetsu-in Blue.”

There’s something incredibly peaceful about walking through the temple grounds surrounded by thousands of hydrangeas and moss covered stone paths. The day I visited it was super hot and very crowded. There was a big line in the heat to view the circular window of the main hall which frames the scenery of the inner garden behind it full of irises. Here is a tip go inside the garden instead.

This place is only open to visitors for two weeks in hydrangea & iris season and two weeks in autumn to view the autumn colours, which makes this extra special. There was no queue and just a minimal charge to enter the garden. There were hardly any people in the garden and you can see the window from the other side plus view the garden in its entirety.

Kamakura in hydrangea season is pure magic, and this was the perfect place to begin my trail of temples and shrines in kamakura to view hydrangeas.

Leaving Meigetsu-in behind, I followed one of Kamakura’s pleasant walking trails toward  Tokei-ji 東慶寺. Founded in 1285, Tokeiji is known as the “Divorce Temple” because for centuries it provided refuge for women seeking to escape unhappy marriages at a time when divorce was otherwise difficult to obtain. Today, the temple offers a much quieter legacy, with beautifully maintained gardens, seasonal flowers, and a peaceful atmosphere that feels removed from the bustle of nearby tourist sites. After the vibrant displays of hydrangeas at Meigetsu-in, the understated beauty and fascinating history of Tokeiji made for a reflective and rewarding stop on my walk through Kamakura. Tokeiji offers a quieter moment to appreciate both the history and the atmosphere of Kamakura taking photos here is prohibited.

From Tokeiji Temple, I continued my walk south toward Tsurugaoka Hachimangū, Kamakura’s most important Shinto shrine. The route took me through quiet residential streets before gradually becoming busier as I approached the heart of the city. Along the way, small shops, cafés, and glimpses of everyday life provided a pleasant contrast to the tranquillity of the temples I had visited earlier in the day.

Arriving at Tsurugaoka Hachimangū, I was immediately struck by its scale and grandeur. Founded in 1063 and later relocated to its present site by Minamoto no Yoritomo, the founder of the Kamakura Shogunate, the shrine has long been at the spiritual and political centre of Kamakura. The broad approach, lined with trees and crossed by elegant bridges, creates a sense of occasion long before reaching the main shrine buildings.

Climbing the wide stone steps to the upper sanctuary rewarded me with impressive views across the shrine grounds and toward the city beyond. Despite the number of visitors, there was still a sense of calm and reverence, with worshippers offering prayers and drawing fortunes. The vibrant vermilion buildings stood out beautifully against the surrounding greenery, making Tsurugaoka Hachimangū both a fascinating historical site and a memorable place to pause and reflect during my walk through Kamakura.

After walking in the heat it was definitely time for some refreshments. The walk led me away from the busiest tourist areas and into one of the city’s most charming neighbourhoods.

Narrow streets lined with traditional homes, small cafés, and local businesses created a relaxed atmosphere that felt distinctly different from the grandeur of the shrine I had just visited.

Amazake Stand in the Ogigayatsu district of Kamakura. Ogigayatsu has a quieter, more residential character, nestled between the wooded hills that surround central Kamakura. As I wandered through the area, the pace of life seemed slower, offering a glimpse of everyday Kamakura beyond its famous temples and shrines. Tucked among these peaceful streets, the Amazake Stand was a welcome place to stop and rest.

Amazake Stand is a cozy little spot dedicated to amazake Japan’s traditional fermented rice drink naturally sweetened through fermentation, with no refined sugar added, full of Japanese food culture.

Every month they have seasonal flavours in June you can decide between going for Ogasawarai island passion fruit or luxurious Takami melon from Chiba and you can choose between grain or grainless. I tried one of their vegan friendly amazake drinks and it honestly felt like wellness in a cup. As long as you order without the cream on top the drink is vegan.

If you’re exploring Kamakura and want something a little different from the usual coffee stop, this place is such a gem. Creamy rice based drinks with the loveliest calming atmosphere and friendly staff. It was the little reset after temple wandering

From Amazake Stand, I continued on foot toward Wadazuka Station, enjoying another opportunity to explore Kamakura’s quieter streets away from the main tourist routes. The walk took me through peaceful residential neighbourhoods where traditional houses sat alongside small cafés and local businesses, giving me a glimpse of everyday life in the city.

Near Wadazuka Station, I stopped at Mushinan

Hidden beside the tiny Enoden tracks in Kamakura, Mushinan feels like stepping into another era.

To enter the beautifully renovated kominka (old Japanese house),you actually walk alongside the railway tracks before stepping into a beautifully preserved traditional Japanese home that’s over 100 years old. Tatami floors, wooden interiors, garden views, and the soft sound of trains passing slowly outside the whole place feels calm, nostalgic, and almost dreamlike.

Kamakura already carries this slower energy compared to Tokyo, temples tucked between houses, little seaside streets, old cafés, and the ocean never too far away and Mushinan captures that atmosphere perfectly.

I loved sitting quietly with a thirst quenching barley tea and traditional sweets while the Enoden rolled past the windows. Everything felt intentional and peaceful, like time had slowed down for an hour.

One of those places that reminds you how beautiful simplicity can be.

Light meal choices of classic Japanese sweets such as Anmitsu (agar jelly dessert) and various mochi dishes, other options like kakigori, Matcha Udon and Ochazuke (rice with tea broth). The warabi mochi with kinako (soybean flour) was the softest I’ve ever eaten.

From Mushinan, I made my way to Wadazuka Station and caught the Enoden Line train toward Hase.

The short journey itself felt like part of the experience, with the vintage carriage slowly winding through Kamakura’s streets, briefly passing homes, small stations, and glimpses of the coastline beyond. The rhythmic sound of the train and the slightly nostalgic feel of the Enoden made it an enjoyable and characterful way to travel between stops.

Arriving at Hase Station, I set off to continue my hydrangea temple exploration.

This part of Kamakura is especially well known in early summer, when the hillsides and temple gardens come alive with colour. With the sea close by and forested slopes rising behind the town, the atmosphere here feels both coastal and serene, making it an ideal setting for visiting some of Kamakura’s most famous hydrangea spots.

Arriving at Hase-dera, I was hoping to continue my hydrangea viewing, as the temple is well known for its beautiful seasonal displays. However, I discovered that access to the hydrangea path required a timed entry ticket, and unfortunately all slots for the day had already sold out. Rather than let this stop my exploration, I decided to continue my walk and follow the surrounding trails instead.

From there, I made my way to Goryō Shrine, a smaller and quieter shrine that felt much more local and relaxed in atmosphere. Inside, visitors could purchase omamori charms, including some with delicate hydrangea motifs and others featuring the iconic Enoden train design, a charming reminder of the railway that runs through Kamakura.

Photography was not permitted within the shrine grounds, which added to its sense of respect and tranquillity. However, just outside the shrine, the scene opened up beautifully, Enoden train tracks lined on both sides with hydrangeas in full bloom.

It was one of the most memorable views of the day, especially as the train occasionally passed through, creating the perfect moment to capture the essence of Kamakura where nature, tradition, and everyday life come together in a single frame.

After leaving Goryō Shrine, I rejoined the Enoden Line and continued my journey along the coast. The train ride itself was once again part of the experience, passing through small stations, residential streets, and occasional glimpses of the sea. Along the way, I made a brief stop at a traditional Japanese sweet shop, Oogiya 扇屋.

Stopping at Oogiya felt like stepping into a quieter, older version of coastal Japan.

Hidden near Enoshima’s narrow streets the shop has been making traditional Japanese sweets since 1985. Everything feels beautifully nostalgic delicate wagashi lined up behind the counter, handwritten signs, and the kind of warm hospitality that instantly made you feel welcome.

It is most famous for its Enoden Monaka 最中 a crispy wafer sandwich filled with sweet red bean paste and other flavours, packaged in charming, collectible boxes shaped like the iconic Enoden train.

I loved how carefully everything was made. Soft mochi, sweet red bean fillings, delicate seasonal flavours simple, traditional sweets that feel almost artistic in their presentation.

One of my favourite moments in Japan was simply wandering, finding places like Oogiya.

The staff here really made my day such a lovely owner.

The shop’s storefront features the front portion of a real, vintage Enoden train car, making it a popular photo spot.

It was a little late in the day when I arrived but I managed to get the last enoden monaka which was matcha flavour. Made from sugar, white kidney bean, glutinous rice, starch syrup, agar and matcha.

This beautifully crafted wagashi offered a welcome moment of refreshment and a chance to pause before continuing on.

From there, I travelled onward toward Enoshima Island for my final hydrangea viewing of the day. Crossing over from the mainland, the atmosphere shifted once again becoming more coastal and open, with sea air replacing the enclosed temple paths and hillside trails of earlier in the day.

Enoshima felt lively yet relaxed, with visitors and locals moving between shrines, viewpoints, and cafés scattered across the island.

It was a fitting final stop, bringing together the themes of the day,seasonal flowers, temple visits, quiet walks, and scenic travel by the Enoden.

Surrounded by ocean views and hydrangeas in bloom, it provided a memorable and atmospheric conclusion to a day spent exploring some of Kamakura’s most beautiful seasonal sights.

After my final time on the Enoden, I returned to Hase to enjoy one last meal before heading back toward Tokyo.

I made my way to Magokoro, a rustic-chic café with sea views that feels more like a hidden seaside sanctuary than a typical restaurant.

Tucked above the beach in Kamakura, Magokoro has a calm, understated atmosphere that immediately slows the pace of the day. The menu is thoughtfully crafted, with a focus on organic produce and a range of vegan friendly dishes, including homemade hemp curry, tempeh plates, and a few fish options as well. It’s the kind of food that appears simple at first glance, but reveals itself to be carefully considered and full of flavour.

Inside, the café carries a sun faded, rustic charm wooden interiors, soft music drifting through the space, and large windows opening out toward the ocean. From my seat, I could watch the light shifting over the sea, bringing a gentle close to a long day of exploring.

Kamakura has a beautiful contrast to Tokyo slower mornings, narrow backstreets, surf culture, temples tucked between homes, and the sea always close by. Magokoro captures that spirit perfectly. It feels grounded and peaceful, with a clear connection to conscious living and sustainability, from local vegetables and macrobiotic cooking to fairtrade products and an overall sense of care in everything they do. While not fully vegan, it offers plenty of plant based options, making it an easy and welcoming choice.

Sitting there as the sun began to set over the ocean, it felt like the perfect final pause before returning to the energy of Tokyo a quiet, reflective end to a day spent moving through Kamakura’s temples, hydrangeas, and hidden corners.

Last year 2025 I didn’t plan a trip to Japan around cities or landmarks, but around moments that only exist for a few fleeting weeks each year.

Much like the cherry blossoms the azalea and wisteria bloom at a certain point in the year normally between mid April to early May. My trip coincided with the “Golden Week” Japanese holiday which can be busy and people said to me do not visit Japan at the time. However as I wanted to see these blooms I didn’t really have much choice and with a little planning you can avoid the crowds by visiting not at weekends and at non peak times. To be honest it was one of the most memorable trips I’ve ever had to Japan. This trip had been much anticipated as I’d cancelled this trip during the Covid pandemic.

From the bright clusters of azaleas tucked into a quiet Tokyo shrine to the cascading wisteria in a park beyond the city, this became a journey shaped by timing, patience, and a little bit of good luck.

These are two places I visited during that week very different, but connected by the same brief, beautiful season.

Nezu Shrine (根津神社, Nezu-jinja)

The Nezu Shrine Azalea Festival (つつじ祭り, Tsutsuji Matsuri)

Nezu Shrine is a Shinto shrine located in the Bunkyō ward of Tokyo, Japan. Established in 1705, it is one of the oldest places of worship in the city and a history of over 1,900 years. Renowned for its exquisite architecture, and vermilion torii shinto shrine gates. Reminiscent of the famous ones at Fushimi Inari Taisha in Kyoto.

At this time of year Nezu Shrine takes the spotlight with one of the most anticipated events of the spring season the “Azalea Festival”.

The Azalea Festival (つつじ祭り, Tsutsuji Matsuri) has over 3,000 flowers covering an area of approximately 6,600 square meters with 100 varieties of vivid coloured Azalea.

The festival brings people together to appreciate both natural beauty and cultural heritage.

If you’re visiting Tokyo in spring and want something a little quieter than the usual cherry blossom crowds, Nezu Shrine is a beautiful alternative that feels both historic and surprisingly peaceful.

Nezu Shrine is one of Tokyo’s oldest Shinto shrines, known for its traditional architecture and tranquil atmosphere. What really makes it special in spring, though, is the hillside covered in blooming azaleas and the picturesque pathway of red torii gates.The tunnel like path formed by rows of red torii gates, winds gently uphill and creates a really atmospheric walk especially early in the morning when it’s quieter.

It has a similar visual charm to more famous spots, but without the same intensity of crowds.

The Azalea Garden (Tsutsuji Matsuri)

If you visit in April, you’ll catch the azalea festival. The hillside bursts into colour with hundreds of bushes in shades of pink, red, and white. There are small walking paths weaving through the garden, so you can take your time and enjoy different viewpoints.

How to Get There.

Nezu Shrine is easy to reach from central Tokyo:

• Take the Tokyo Metro Chiyoda Line to Nezu Station
• From there, it’s about a 5-minute walk

It’s also within walking distance of Yanaka, which makes for a lovely half day exploring older Tokyo neighbourhoods. Which is exactly what I did after my visit.

Opening times & admission

Visiting Nezu Shrine itself is free and generally open daily (grounds accessible most of the day). However, during the Azalea Festival (Tsutsuji Matsuri):

• • Azalea garden hours: 9:30am – 5:30pm
  • Admission fee: ¥500 (for the azalea garden only)

Even if you don’t pay to enter the garden, you can still enjoy the shrine, torii path, and atmosphere for free.

Go early or later in the afternoon to avoid peak crowds. Weekdays are much quieter than weekends

Nezu Shrine feels like a small escape from the pace of Tokyo. It’s not just about the flowers it’s the combination of history, colour, and calm that makes it memorable.

If you’re looking for a spring spot that’s beautiful without being overwhelming, this is definitely worth adding to your Tokyo itinerary.

Ashikaga Flower Park, Tochigi Prefecture

あしかがフラワーパーク

Fujinohana Monogatari Ofuji Festival 藤まつり

The festival features more than 350 wisteria vines, stunning flowers, which dangle from wooden trellise which come in a riot of colours including violet, blue, pink, white and yellow blossoms. You can also admire the park’s magnificent wisteria tree, which is lit up in the evenings and surrounded by still water that reflects the colourful flowers.

Visiting Ashikaga Flower Park: Japan’s Dreamlike Wisteria Wonderland

If you’ve ever seen photos of cascading purple wisteria that look almost unreal, chances are they were taken at Ashikaga Flower Park. After seeing these photos many times on instagram I just knew I wanted to plan a trip to Japan to visit both the azaleas and wisteria. Visiting in person is just as magical as it looks if not more so and will be a memory that will stay with me in my heart for ever. I would recommend to arrive around 5.30 in the afternoon so that you can witness the splendour of the trees both in daylight and in the dark when the trees come alive with evening illuminations.

Located outside Tokyo in Tochigi Prefecture, this park is famous for its seasonal flower displays, especially its iconic wisteria. It’s a bit of a journey compared to city spots, but absolutely worth it if you’re visiting Japan in mid to late April to witness the breathtaking seasonal wisteria displays.

The main attraction is one particular wisteria tree which is 150 years old known as ofuji, or Great Wisteria Tree, which has a canopy covering about 1,000sqm and features a jaw dropping 80,000 individual purple blossoms. This large, centuries old wisteria tree is supported by a wide trellis when in full bloom, the hanging flowers create a ceiling of purple that you can walk beneath.

There are also long tunnels of white and yellow wisteria. Walking through them feels almost surreal, especially when they’re fully in bloom.

Evening Illuminations

If you can stay into the evening, the park lights up the flowers after sunset. The reflections on the water and the soft lighting make it feel completely different from the daytime experience.

Although wisteria is the highlight, there are also other flowers depending on the time of year, including azaleas, roses, and seasonal displays. You may even see some cherry blossom.

How to Get There.

From Tokyo:

Take a JR train (often via Ueno or Tokyo Station) toward Ashikaga Flower Park Station

The station is just a short walk from the entrance

Travel time depending on route is around 1 to 2 hours

Opening times & admission

At Ashikaga Flower Park, both hours and ticket prices change depending on the season and how the flowers are blooming.

Typical opening hours:

• • Around 9:00am – 5:00pm in quieter seasons
  • During wisteria season (mid-April to mid-May), extended hours are common, often:
    • ~8:00am – 8:30pm (or later)  Admission price (varies daily):
  • Roughly ¥900 – ¥2,200 for adults during peak seasons
  • Prices are highest during full wisteria bloom
  • Evening illumination tickets are usually slightly cheaper

Prices are set each day based on bloom conditions, so it’s worth checking the official website the morning of your visit.

”One thing I didn’t realise before visiting is that Ashikaga Flower Park changes its ticket price depending on how in bloom the flowers are so you’re effectively paying for the experience at its peak.”

Ashikaga Flower Park feels like stepping into a different world. It’s one of those places that lives up to the photos, especially during peak wisteria season.

While it takes a bit more effort to reach than central Tokyo spots, it’s an unforgettable experience and a real highlight of spring in Japan.

Planning a trip around seasonal blooms means accepting a bit of uncertainty. Things might not be at their peak, the weather might shift but that unpredictability is part of what makes it memorable. Both the wisteria  and azalea bloom around peak holiday season in Japan “Golden Week” so expect crowds. Even so If you’re thinking of doing something similar, I’d absolutely recommend it!

March 3rd is the second in the five main seasonal festivals of Japan Joshi no Sekku 上巳の節句. Sometimes called Momo no Sekku (Peach festival ) or (dolls festival) but more commonly known as Hina matsuri 雛祭り. This festival originally celebrated both boys and girls but over time the celebration ended up being just for girls when Tango no Sekku became popular, known as boys day.

Each year on March 3rd, homes across Japan are transformed with elegant tiered doll displays, soft pink peach blossoms, and carefully prepared seasonal sweets. This Hina Matsuri celebration, is something I’ve spoken about over many years here on my blog. It’s a day dedicated to wishing health, happiness, and protection for young girls.

Among the beautifully arranged hina dolls sits a striking, diamond (rhombus form) shaped sweet layered in white green and pink (also shown green, white and pink) Hishi Mochi 菱餅 / ひしもち). The white, green and pink ordering represents seasonal growth from snow to spring growth to blossoms and reflects older regional traditional ordering, while nowadays you will more often see the order changed to green, white and pink. Originally in the Edo period the mochi only had two layers and the pink was added later. At first glance, it appears simple. Yet its shape and colours carry centuries of symbolism, seasonal meaning, and protective wishes woven into Japan’s cultural history.

To understand Hishi Mochi fully, we must first look at where Hina Matsuri itself began.

Hina Matsuri traces its roots back over a thousand years to the Heian period . During this era, an aristocratic custom known as hina-asobi (doll play) became popular among court children. At the same time, a purification ritual called nagashi-bina was practiced, people would place paper or straw dolls into rivers to carry away illness and misfortune.These two traditions gradually merged.

The dolls, originally used as symbolic substitutes to absorb bad luck, evolved from simple paper figures into the elaborate hina doll sets displayed today. Rather than being set afloat in rivers, they were placed inside homes as protective guardians for daughters.

By the Edo period (1603–1868), Hina Matsuri had become an established annual festival. The doll displays grew more ornate, and celebratory foods including Hishi Mochi became part of the tradition.

Seasonal foods have always played an important role in Japanese celebrations, often chosen for their symbolism as much as their flavour from Sanshoku 三色団子 dango to Chirashizushi五目ちらし寿司. Why not read more about these on my previous Hina Matsuri blog posts.

Hishi Mochi became associated with Hina Matsuri because it embodied, protection from evil, fertility and growth, health and vitality and the arrival of spring. The diamond shape (hishi) is linked to the water caltrop plant, long believed to promote fertility and ward off misfortune. Meanwhile, the three colours reflect both seasonal change and protective symbolism passed down through generations.

Over time, what began as a purification ritual transformed into a deeply personal family celebration. Today, Hina Matsuri is less about warding off spirits and more about expressing love and hope for a daughter’s future.

Hishi Mochi remains displayed beneath the dolls not merely as a sweet treat, but as a visual prayer.

May her life be pure and peaceful.

May she grow strong like new grass.

May she blossom beautifully like the peach flowers of spring.

But this traditional rice cake is more than just decorative, every detail carries meaning.

The word hishi (菱) refers to the water caltrop plant, whose leaves and fruit naturally grow in a diamond shape. The diamond form is believed to symbolise fertility and growth, represent protection and warding off evil and reflect the shape of the heart in classical Japanese symbolism.

The layered diamond also visually echoes harmony and balance qualities parents wish for their daughters’ future. When displayed beneath the hina dolls, the stacked shape resembles stability and gentle upward growth,a quiet prayer for steady development and happiness.

Traditional Hishi Mochi consists of three layers though modern versions have changed the order and may even have more layers.

Pink top

Represents peach blossoms and symbolises protection from evil spirits also associated with femininity and celebration.?Peach blossoms are especially important because Hina Matsuri was historically known as the Peach Festival.

Green middle

Represents new grass and vitality, it symbolises health and long life and is associated with growth and renewal. The green layer traditionally contains mugwort (yomogi), a herb believed to have protective and healing properties.

White bottom

Represents purity and cleanliness, a fresh start and sometimes associated with snow on the ground. White suggests spiritual cleansing and protection for the coming year.

Together, the colours tell a seasonal story:

White (lingering snow),Green (new grass) Pink (peach blossoms)

It symbolises the transition from winter to spring just as young girls grow and blossom into adulthood.

Hishi Mochi isn’t just eaten it’s displayed. Like the Hina Dolls themselves, it represents a heartfelt wish for health, happiness protection and growth. Each layered colour and careful shape expresses a parent’s quiet hope for their daughter’s future.

In the delicate layers of Hishi Mochi, we find more than sweet rice cake we find centuries of quiet hope. Its diamond shape speaks of protection and growth, while its soft shades trace the gentle arrival of spring. Displayed during Hina Matsuri it becomes a symbolic offering, a wish for health, happiness, and a life that blossoms beautifully.
The mochi is eaten by eating all the corners first to form a circle which symbolises eternity and then finally eating the circle.

Though small and simple in appearance, Hishi Mochi carries a profound message that love, tradition, and heartfelt prayers for the future can be expressed in even the humblest of sweets.