Kurashiki

As we made our way through Hiroshima train station it was clear something was going on. The place was packed, not only packed but a large queue snaked down the middle running through several different areas - that combined with the news crew and ever constant loudspeaker announcements coming from portable speakers that had been dotted around the place made us suspicious that something wasn’t right. Move over, Sherlock.

When we arrived at our platform the unthinkable had happened, our train had been, and I don’t know how to say this… delayed. The shock, the horror, how could this have happened?! Everywhere online, this one simple statement is flaunted as fact : the average delay of trains (in Japan) is less than one minutes every year. Well the day we travelled sure threw off that statistic with our train 45 minutes late, along with all of the Shinkansen trains leaving from our platform.

Eventually (roughly a hour behind schedule) we arrived to Kurashiki station where we immediately got confused and tried to exit the wrong side of the station. The path we took led to a large bridge walkway that circled round a strange looking clocktower in its centre - we were intrigued but also hungry so we decided to put a pin in our curiosity and went to drop our bags off at the hotel instead. Although our hotel was located a small street away from the Bikan Historical Quarter (the main attraction in the area that we were there to see) we wanted to head somewhere a little less touristy and expensive for lunch.

After a small amount of googling we discovered "Den", a quaint traditional restaurant tucked away along a narrow residential lane, it sounded ideal. What our research didn't tell us was that Den (like many places frequented by locals) only accepted cash and as we didn't have any, a side trip to the local konbini was in order. Cash successfully obtained we tried again. We ducked under the noren (the fabric that dangles over door fronts in Japan) and slid oped the door that led to a small waiting area. Once inside we were warmly greeted by the staff who asked us to change our shoes for the slippers provided before being led to a table for two and shown the menu. The atmosphere of the restaurant was calm, couples and groups chatted quietly amongst themselves; the window into the kitchen showed the chefs working in a serene and efficient manner - a huge contrast to the frenzied way many chefs are depicted in the west. On one table we spotted a book that clashed with their homely atheistic, it was the Michelin Guide. It turns out that Den was Michelin recommended in 2021 that surely boded well for our meal.

Den focused in the speciality of the area, handmade buckwheat noodles that's served with a soy based broth. Ben decided on the duck noodles, a heaped pile of cold noodles came presented on a plate and alongside them was the soy dipping sauce, the slices of duck swimming within. I went for the spicy daikon noodles, a huge bowl of simmering soy broth filled with noodles, grated daikon, with spring onions and a mysterious spicy power which I could add into it. It was delicious, the sauce was deep and rich but somehow not overwhelmingly salty.

The dishes minimalistic presentation could have easily been style over substance, but every element was flawless making it was clear that a lot of love and meticulous effort had gone into refining the local dish. As we were nearing the end of our meal, another element was brought into the fold: a teapot was placed on our table. The chef after asking if we knew what to do, explained that we were to add the mixture inside to our remaining broth and drink it. I still don't exactly know what it was, but it seemed to be a roux of some sort that once added to our soy broths made a richly satisfying and comforting drink that is unlike anything i've had prior or since. In the end our Michelin adjacent experience came to a reasonable ¥3500, and this included unlimited tea and a hot Souchu drink that Ben decided to sample.

We spent the rest of our afternoon ambling around the Bikan Historical Quarter, taking photos and admiring the uniform white houses with their grey crosshatch detailing while deciding what we were going to explore in more depth the next day.

First thing on our agenda when we woke up the next morning was organising our train tickets for the following day, and getting to the bottom of the mystery surrounding the strange clocktower we had found. Located in Hans Christian Anderson Square, the red brick clocktower that would be more at home in any European city than in Japan, is covered in small wooden doorways and it's base is surrounded by a bubbling water fountain. Four plinths surround the clocktower, and on each stands a gleaming metal warrior, viking in appearance, meticulously garbed and wearing a double horned helmet. Translated signs showed a schedule for a show that would happen on the hour, when the tower turns into a giant cuckoo clock that would play out one of Han's fairy tales. Although we waited, the clock didn't preform while we were there and despite a fair amount of looking into it, i've never managed to find out why the clocktower was even there in the first place.

So the mystery was unsolved but that wasn't going to affect our day. On our way back towards the Historical Quarter we came across the most intriguing treat : a sweet potato brûlée (¥600). Just as simple as it sounds, it's a semi hollowed out sweet potato that has been baked before being filled with custard, topped with sugar which is of course torched until forms a hard crystalline shell. Unlike sweet potatoes of the west, Japanese sweet potatoes are matured for longer so have a naturally sweet flavour that leans more towards dessert than dinner - meaning this dish isn't quite as strange as it seems. The potato, custard and sugar top combined was almost overwhelmingly sweet, and although Ben and I shared it we couldn't quite manage to finish it. It was delicious but probably a bit much for breakfast.

Full of energy (sugar) and raring to go, we veered away from the quarter itself and instead followed a path up the mountainside to Achi Shrine, a small Shinto Buddhist temple that has stunning views over the surrounding town. Although it wasn't in bloom while we visited, Achi Shrine is home to Japans largest Wisteria tree which is over 300 years old. Although the shrine was small, many parts of it caught my eye: the tori gate backed by green foliage, the bold black white and red noren than hung from the temples main gate and the adorably intense figures that decorated a small shrine.

We took a different path back to town, walking unhurriedly down the less touristed streets soaking in the calm before we jumped back into the fray. At the base of Mount Tsurugata and opposite the grand Kurashiki Community Center, was くらしきドーナツの木, a donut shop without a westernised version of their name. This donut shop specialised in freshly filled donuts, and I don't mean freshly filled that day but filled only once they were ordered. All of the options looked good but the one that really caught our eye was the muscat cream (¥440). Although I would normally only associate muscat with wine making, I was quickly convinced it belonged squarely in the donut realm too. The sweet fragrant flavour of the muscat cream, resulted in a donut that was neither too sickly or too rich. It was only knowing that I was planning on trying a lot more treats throughout the day that stopped me buying a few more to scarf down.

From there we headed to the art museum ... that had closed from that day with no prior notice for renovations. Disappointed we looked for another museum to explore instead, with the Yumiko Igarashi Museum also being inexplicably closed we ended up in the Merchant House Museum instead. It wasn't the most informative, but it was interesting to see how the more affluent but mercantile homes would have been. We entered through the main house, and although it was named a "house" museum, most of the explorable areas were actually in the warehouses behind it. It was honestly better than I expected, it wasn't the most informative but it was fairly deserted and it's always fun to have a nosey round old buildings.

After another wander round the different lanes and roads of the Quarter we came across Ivy Square. Once Japans first cotton mill, Ivy Square is now home to a 3 star hotel, a memorial hall and a vast building filled with denim products that we couldn't afford. It's named for the ivy that creeps over many of its structures, softening the imposing buildings with their verdant foliage. It was a beautiful area, but with it's European style architecture it was a bit jarring as it was in complete juxtaposition with the traditional Japanese houses that surrounded it.

With the afternoon still ahead of us, we decided to take our time exploring along the canals of Bikan, taking photos and soaking in the sights. We wandered past shop after shop selling either denim goods or washi tape. We watched flower covered punts slowly meander along the short waterway that runs along the main street. Couples dressed in ornate traditional kimono were directed to the most picturesque spots by the photographers that followed behind them. Rickshaw runners competed for the custom of passers by and of course there was the hoards of tourists exploring it all.

With all this exploring it was past time for another snack. Near one of the entrances to the Quarter was a stall I found intriguing. It seemed to only sell tempura fish cakes and after watching many locals go up and order one on their way past, I thought it couldn't be bad... I was wrong. I decided on the Shrimp and onion flavour (¥400) and it was foul. Not only was the texture abhorrently bouncy and strangely mealy, even thinking back on the flavour makes me a bit nauseous to this day. The taste and texture assault combined with the fact it was only microwaved to be lukewarm, lets just say one bite was more than enough but I had a second just to make sure.

Ben went for the far superior Cheese Curry-Bread (¥400), something i'm sure I would have enjoyed had it not contained meat. He likened it to crispy doughnut filled with an absurd amount of cheese and a mild minced meat curry and in his words "was fucking delicious". I wasn't insanely jealous at all.

Once we left the Bikan area and headed to some of Kurashiki's other museums we realised that they were all shut due to the previous day being a public holiday. We fell into the same trap at dinner and the Izakaya we had chosen to visit was also closed. Our back up, Nona Pizzaria, was thankfully open. Now before you get all "You're in Japan, why aren't you eating Japanese food?" Japan has some of the best pizza in the world, and although some pizza joints can get a bit absurd with flavours the majourity of pizza chefs in Japan are traditionalists that have spent time training in Italy. So the pizza was good, and the restaurant seemed to be constantly playing a Italian radio-show which added to the authentic vibes.

While returning to the hotel, we decided to take one final stroll through the Bikan Historical Quarter and were surprised to find it illuminated. I had anticipated a cozy ambiance with gentle lamplight peeking through windows, despite knowing that most establishments had closed for the day. I had imagined the area to have a sense of being lived in. Instead, it resembled a movie set, with lights discreetly placed on rooftops and along the river, casting a glow on the buildings as hoards of photographers scurried around capturing the perfect shots in this unnatural lighting. I couldn't pinpoint the reason, but I found this scenario unsettling, as it made the entire experience seem somewhat insincere. Although I was aware that the entire district had been preserved to maintain its Edo era architecture, I had not realised that it appeared to cater solely to tourists, devoid of any permanent residents. This snapshot we'd been given was nothing more than a mirage.

Wanting a more "real" experience, we didn't head straight back but wandered round the more modern part of the city instead. Light filtered past the curtained windows of peoples homes and under the noren decorating the doorways of Izakayas and restaurants, people could be seen eating, drinking and having a good evening.