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| Matsumoto Castle |
Breakfast, much like dinner the previous evening, was generous to a fault — a substantial hit of protein that suggested our hosts expressed warmth primarily through food rather than conversation.
The warmer side of that hospitality, however, proved disappointingly elusive. Finding someone to speak to was a challenge, and our plan to forward the luggage ahead to Takayama quietly collapsed for lack of anyone to action it with. Whether we were supposed to formally announce our departure to someone also remained unclear. In the end we did what anyone does in that situation...we left.
The rain that had been threatening for days finally arrived overnight, as if it had been waiting for us to finish the hiking. We made our way to Narai Station, a merciful five minute walk, and took the train to Matsumoto, luggage and all.
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| It was a big piece of salmon! |
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| The contents in the bowl |
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| Fast walking to the station |
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| Made it to shelter and waiting for our train to Matsumoto |
Matsumoto Station deposited us almost directly at the door of Hotel Buena Vista, another five minute walk, which the rain made feel like a personal favour. Our travel agent, in response to the lack of service at Narai, called ahead to both Buena Vista and our Takayama hotel to flag our luggage situation. We walked in to find someone ready and waiting, forms already prepared. After days of managed chaos and pointing-and-nodding communication, the efficiency was almost emotional. Bags dropped, we headed out to explore. The rain had fortunately eased to an intermittent light drizzle.
First stop was the Ishii Miso Factory, one of Matsumoto's more unassuming treasures. Ishii has been producing miso in the traditional method since 1868, fermenting their paste in giant centuries-old cedar vats that have absorbed generations of flavour — some of the barrels have been in continuous use for over 150 years. The process is slow by design: their long-aged miso ferments for up to three years, producing a depth of flavour that bears little resemblance to the convenience-store variety. In fact, you are unable to buy their miso at supermarkets. Purchases can only made in person at their factory or direct order from consumers such as restaurants.
We had missed the first English tour of the morning, which felt like a setback until Fi struck up conversation with a man she'd taken for generic staff. He mentioned, with no particular fanfare, that we were welcome to join a larger tour group arriving shortly. It was only during the tour itself that it emerged he was a sixth-generation Ishii, currently running the factory. We ate miso inspired lunch at the shop. We bought miso products. We savoured miso soft serve. Several of us bought more miso products than we strictly needed to carry to Takayama.
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| Cedar vats. These are the year 1 vats |
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| Mr Ishii himself extolling the virtues of traditionally made miso |
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| Miso pork soup, with rice balls accompanied by a duo of different miso pastes |
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| Miso soft serve, like salted caramel according to May |
Next stop: Nawate Street, more affectionately known as Frog Street, a narrow lane running alongside the Metoba River. The frog became the symbol of the street because of the the frogs that once populated its banks. Now the street is packed with quirky little shops, snacks and frog-themed decorations of every conceivable variety. If there is a frog-related item that exists in this world, it can probably be purchased on this street. Ellis, however, chose to buy an umbrella. But it was the best quality Japanese umbrella and most important of all it was only AUD 19.
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| At first I thought it was a teenage mutant ninja turtle |
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| Frog street |
Then, Matsumoto Castle.
Matsumoto Castle is one of Japan's oldest surviving original castles and is nicknamed the “Crow Castle” due to its striking black exterior. Built in the late 1500s, it is one of only twelve that survived the centuries without being rebuilt from scratch. Unlike many castles in Japan that were reconstructed after wars or earthquakes, Matsumoto Castle still retains its original wooden interiors and steep defensive staircases. Inside, six floors of steep, ladder-like stairs climb through displays of Edo-period firearms, armour and castle history — the original structure entirely intact, entirely genuine, and on this particular day, entirely compromised by a man in a striped shirt.
Unfortunately, my memory of Matsumoto Castle will forever be tainted by his truly catastrophic foot odour. Not just bad. Weaponised. Sour, putrid and so overwhelming I genuinely thought I might vomit inside one of Japan’s national treasures.
We smelled him as soon as he removed his first shoe. On the lower floors — the chi-kai, ground level, where displays are spread across open space — evasive action was possible. We identified the striped shirt. We tracked the striped shirt. We manoeuvred around the striped shirt with the coordinated efficiency of a group that had spent a week walking in close formation. For a while, we were ahead.
The upper floors undid us. The tower narrows as it rises, the stairs steepen, and a bottleneck of visitors formed at precisely the moment the striped shirt caught up. There was nowhere to go. We endured. The castle, I should say, was magnificent...I think.
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| We thought we could fight anything, but apparently not someone with bad foot odour |
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| That entrance, where visitors had to remove their shoes would be the beginning of our misery |
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| On the top floor holding our breath. The offender was out of shot to our right |
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| Some random view from the castle because I couldn't really concentrate on anything |
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| If you ever lose May or Jays, just check the sake section |
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| Our room |
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| Everything has been clean so far |
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| Very happy with my hanko purchase. My English name "Japanified" into a seal stamp. |
Dinner was sanzoku-yaki — a Matsumoto speciality of chicken marinated in garlic, ginger and soy before being deep fried to crackling, golden perfection. The name translates loosely as "mountain bandit grilled," which tells you something about the energy of the dish. It is large, it is crispy, it is deep fried (despite its name). How any form of fried chicken could be anything other than delicious is a question I cannot answer. This was no exception. Being Asian, naturally we upgraded absolutely everything that was either “free” or remotely good value...including the beverage bar. This decision resulted in a table completely overloaded with food and drinks, leaving us once again so catastrophically full that spontaneous combustion felt like a genuine possibility.
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| The booths and tables were so small, so we had to sit in groups of 3 |
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| I chose to add curry to my sanzoku yaki |
