April 19, 2025. Before catching the train from Tokyo to Aizuwakamtsu, we headed to the Fukagawa Edo museum which we had visited my first time in Tokyo in November. They were featuring a special exhibit on Boy’s Day (celebrated in Japan on May 5). Que Hisayasu, a very knowledgeable and kind volunteer, spent 20 minutes with us, pointing out details showing how Boy’s Day had been traditionally celebrated. He told us he also volunteers as an English speaking guide in the greater Tokyo area.  

I would have stayed longer but we had a train to catch. As cappuccino addicts, we had to make time for a cuppa. Blue Bottle Coffee was a 10 minute walk, and well worth it. This one was so different from the Shibuya Blue Bottle, essentially a giant warehouse. Its Shibuya cousin was lodged in an old Japanese style home. Extremely different aesthetic. I sat at a group table, then moved discretely after a couple with a sobbing baby plopped down next to me. I wanted to savor my treats, but the train waits for no man, and there were few and far between to places like Aizuwakamtsu.

It was a 3 1/2 hour trip all told. Many of the towns looked like the rust belt. I wondered how wealth had been divided up in Japan. The problem with the Shinkansen (fast train), besides the price tag, is that much of the route is through tunnels. Japan is 70 percent mountains. Slower trains are a better bet for scenery. It’s strange to always be out of one’s element. Shawn had never traveled north of Tokyo in the 10 years he lived in Japan, so it was new to both of us. We got off the train and wandered around the station, trying to find the local bus. As usual we wandered off in different directions, and eventually ended up at the bus station. Our stop was along a blocks-long shopping mall. We alighted and wound our way past “snack” bars (aka hostess bars) dwarfed by a Godzilla-sized radio antenna. Urban planners had taken a wrecking ball to the neighborhood, replacing it with ugly multi-story retail. They had left one beautiful building, an old inn. I wondered how the rest of the area must have looked before redevelopers had their way.

Our AirBnb host happened to be at the apartment. He seemed anxious that we might destroy something and delivered a long list of verbal instructions. Perhaps he’d had bad luck with destructive guests. The place was a cave: narrow and long, no windows. Most of the AirBnbs we stayed in on the trip were similarly strange. Many Japanese seemed to be supplementing their incomes by carving up already-small Japanese style homes into two or more segments and renting them out.  

We dropped our bags and headed to the castle, aka Tsurugajo or Aizuwakamatsu Castle. It had been built as a palace in 1384 and had undergone many changes as ruler succeeded ruler. Sadly, like many castles in Japan, it was torn down in 1874. In this case, to punish the samurai who had fought against the emperor and his Imperial forces. At the peak of the Boshin War of 1868, Tsurugajo Castle withstood over a month of heavy fire from the forces of the would-be Meiji Government. In 1868, Tokugawa forces (including Aizu) lost to the imperial faction – signifying the end of the Boshin War and the end of the age of samurai. The battle at Tsurugajo Castle is thought to have been one of the last battles of the Tokugawa Era. 

The castle was also famous for its tea house, sponsored by Gamo Ujisato. He had taken the son of tea ceremony master Sen no Rikyu under his wing and brought him to Aizu. The son built the tea house and played an important role in the continued development of Japan’s school of tea ceremony. The tea house was considered so important that it was hidden during the Boshin war to avoid destruction.

I had chosen Aizuwakamatsu as one of our stops as it is famous for cherry blossoms. The cherry blossom festival was in mid swing and the blossoms were in peak bloom. It was a Saturday and families were swarming around the grounds, occupying almost every corner between moat and castle. I had wanted to experience the tradition of hanami, Japanese for cherry blossom viewing. It appeared we were the only non-Japanese tourists. Booths that reminded me of those at a school carnival sold appetizing Japanese dishes skewers of grilled octopus, squid, and chicken as well as candied apples and strawberries. I ordered a small skewer of chicken and wandered around the grounds, enjoying the scene. Families and friends sat on blankets under cherry trees, enjoying company and tasty treats.

Shawn was tired and went back to our place around 6pm, while I stayed on, enthralled by the scene. As the light faded, pink lights were projected onto the castle tower to simulate cherry blossoms. It had been rebuilt in 1965. I learned that one man had been responsible for planting 2,000 cherry trees in 1906 to commemorate the end of the Russo-Japanese War. Now approximately 3,300 trees grace the grounds. I didn’t want to leave but felt guilty making Shawn wait so long to eat. I headed back at 9 and we found a place to eat near our room. Most of the small bars or izakayas in town were filled with cigarette smoke and loud drunken laughter, but we found a quiet place where I could breathe.  

April 20. The next day I decided to head to a historical samurai residence known as Aizu Bukeyashiki which would be closed the following week for a new exhibit. I had gone to the castle at noon hoping to catch the samurai reenactment but the event hadn’t started yet. Then I did reconnaissance to check out a highly rated cafe that I hoped served more than coffee.  Unfortunately it wasn’t so. Shawn and I were planning to meet there, and I called to let him know it was a miss. So he started walking toward the samurai residence, and I followed, arriving 20 minutes apart. Near the museum I spotted a very traditional looking eatery called Ohide chaya which looked very popular. I ran into Shawn at the samurai residence, but it was closing at 2pm, and we wouldn’t make it in time.

The open-air collection of buildings included the residence of Tanomo Saigo, an important samurai in Aizu, the Aizu Domain’s chief retainer, a magistrate’s office, a tea house, a rice mill, and a warehouse. Shawn had beat me there and was done in 30 minutes, heading back to our flat. I took a couple of hours to read all the signs and check out the museum, which had a collection of items that had belonged to the residents there. I particularly liked the rice mill, marveling at the sturdy construction of enormous logs.

I was curious about Higashiyama, the hot spring resort area a mile or so into the mountains. I decided to walk that way and came across a sign indicating the Aizu Matsudaira Clan cemetery. The clan was very important in the Aizu area and the cemetery included the graves of Masatsune Hoshina and Katamori Katamori. I stepped gingerly up the moss covered stone steps, wondering how many people came this way. The path was precarious, but worth the peace and quiet of the mountain forest. All of the graves save one were Shinto, featuring pillars balanced on a turtle’s back. That was something about Japan I loved. It seemed that wherever I went, within minutes of civilization I would find myself in a primeval forest, a place where no one else had been. It was a comforting illusion.

I had blithely ignored a trail closed sign at the trail’s beginning. Suddenly I came upon some large downed trees and suspected they were the cause of the closure. I headed out the other end of the trail onto a road and followed it down the hill. In a few minutes I was at a resort where several formal attendants appeared to be waiting for a guests’ arrival. I felt like a vagabond in my dirty backpacking clothes and quickened my pace hoping not to draw their attention. After reaching the main road, I started walking back to our place, a few miles away, while keeping an eye out for the bus. I didn’t think they’d stop if I wasn’t at a formal stop so I ran to catch it. The bus driver told me where to get off and seemed very concerned that I do so. Turned out to make my trip longer, but I appreciated his concern. I decided to head directly to the castle as I understood that the festival would run for a few more weekends. I had argued with Shawn about that. He was sure that all cherry blossom festivals only lasted weekend, siting his time in Tokyo in the 1990s. I trusted this year’s poster more than 30 year old information. I felt vindicated upon seeing a large number of people strolling around the castle grounds. It was heart-warming to see families spending time together.

April 21. We’d been having difficulty figuring out how to turn on the TV. I don’t usually watch, even at home, but we’d gotten back early and I was trying to drown out the karaoke singing in the next door club. I had reached out to the host, who promptly responded and appeared the next morning with an electrician. From there we headed to the castle, waiting till a cafe opened that I’d discovered online. It was in the AIC building where there had been a large street festival on the weekend. A very kind woman served us cafe au lait, and I asked if she could instead make a cappuccino or latte.  Shawn described the process, and she placated us. I felt uncomfortably highbrow. She was very pleasant and we made a note to return the next day before heading to Yamagata.

From there I walked to Oyaku Garden, the garden of a former feudal villa, with medicinal plants, a koi pond & a tea room serving matcha. I was especially interested in the medicinal plants, but most were stubble or nonexistent, probably because we were still in mid April and the snows had just retreated. The garden was first established in the 1380s. In the 1430s Ashina Morihisa, the 10th feudal lord of the Ashina clan, believing it to be a sacred place, kept the garden as a villa. In 1670, Hoshina Masatsune, the second daimyō of the Aizu Domain, cultivated various herbs in the garden, notably Korean ginseng. Private citizens were encouraged to grow herbs as well, so the garden became known as Oyakuen, or “medicinal herb garden”. Today there are about 400 kinds of medicinal herbs and trees cultivated in and around the garden. Meguro Jotei, a landscape gardener during the Edo period and disciple of Kobori Enshū, designed the current layout of the garden to show nature in miniature, which is typical of a Japanese garden. The garden pond is named Shinji no Ike and is shaped like the kanji character for “heart”. I had hoped Chōyōkaku, where Princess Chichibu stayed in 1928 while visiting the garden, would be open for viewing. It wasn’t. The tea house, or Ochayagoten, dates from the Muromachi period. It was built in the Izumidono style. Each room has at least four-and-a-half tatami mats. The building was used when lords, superior officials, merchants or general managers of the clan were invited to Aizu. The Rakujutei is a tea house built on Naka shima or “Middle Island”. It has an alcove with a rail and thatched roof. Feudal lords and the executives of the clan would enjoy tea ceremony here.

From there I headed up toward the mountains near the samurai residence I’d visited the day before, Aizu Bukeyashiki. As usual I was following my intuition, and found myself climbing up a steep set of stairs surrounded by white flags when I saw a shrine (turned out to be Atago shrine) and an elderly woman burning pine needles which I assumed was a purification ritual. She smiled and indicated that I should buy omamori (protective talismans). I thanked her and continued toward the shrine, which seemed very old and had interesting paintings on its sides. Nearby I saw a pit where fire offerings had been made, and a trail going along the mountainside. I walked the trail and in a few minutes came to a temple called Tenneiji that had been built to commemorate a young boy who had committed Hari kari out of shame for misbehaving at school. What a waste of human life, I thought, killing oneself to save face. I understand that shame is a very powerful motivator and that being exiled the worst human punishment. I explored the burial grounds around the temple, and happened upon a large sign warning of bear attacks.  Perhaps foolishly I was not deterred. I passed the gravesite of Kondo Isami (actually just his hair), a swordsman and samurai of the late Edo period. He was the fourth generation master of Tennen Rishin-ryū and was famed for his role as commander of the Shinsengumi. He has 3 other gravesites in Japan.

I took the Aizu bus back toward the center of town, where I walked to Nanokamachi district and same—said street featuring Taisho era buildings (1912 – 1926). By the time I got there the sun had set and dusk was settling. Most Japanese retail stores close at 5pm, so I was reduced to peering into windows. I was especially impressed by a beautifully apportioned lacquerware store, and made a note to return. I regretted being there so late, as there was almost no human activity and it was hard to see. I was sorry to miss the Aizu Shinsengumi Museum, a small memorial hall and museum of the Shinsengumi clan.