TIME TRAVEL IN TAKAYAMA, GIFU | JAPAN

Travelling via the Hida Express train - seated beside a large window showcasing the picturesque river valleys - we arrived in the town of Takayama. Deep in the central Japan alps, Gifu Prefecture, this small mountain settlement is located north of the big cities. It is known for its nuts, saki and the old Edo wooden merchant houses.

On our arrival, it was raining. A heavy downpour, thundering on the rooftops and gushing down empty streets. Below dark skies, a taxi ferried us through the wet and deserted streets.

We were staying up the hill at Oyado Yamakyu, an old style Royakan guest house. Outside, it was tasteful, orderly and built with dark wooden framework, white walls and a slate roof. Inside - away from the rain - the lobby was dimmed and our bedroom sparse. The rooms had no chairs. There were many kinds of footwear to be worn - indoor slippers, outdoor slippers and bathroom slippers. Later, we would sleep on the rattan floor on roll out mattresses. The Oyado Yamakyu is traditional, but also quite luxurious.

The Royakan common areas were a warren of dark hallways and wooden cabinets displaying coloured deco or vintage glassware. In the middle of the building, there was a central water fountain and zen rock garden. Trapped indoors because of the rain, we padded around on the burgundy carpets, exploring the hidden corners.

Finally, late in the afternoon, the weather eased. Clouds hung grey and low on the hills. We could see from our window that behind our Royakyan was a small rundown temple, beyond that, a steep slope up to an extended graveyard.

Relieved to be outdoors, we climbed up past the temple to the burial ground, the mist gently swirling among tall firs. Shiny silver and white marble gravestones stood straight and tightly packed, little towers climbing the slopes above. Some stones were marked with Japanese characters, but many were also blank.

Following half pathways, we gingerly picked our way upwards. The smell was of damp foliage and decay; fallen leaves, soaked and squelching underfoot. Soon, we were high on the hill above the town. Looking down, we saw our Royakan in the valley below. Behind it, a jumble of grey slate rooftops, zig-zaging powerlines, a river cutting through the heart of town, the railway station and rows of apartments. Then, in the far distance, the tree covered mountains. 

The graveyard seemed to go on indefinitely and soon the sky darkened with foreboding. We descended the hill, back to our lodgings. As it got dark, the rain returned, continuing until morning.

Later that evening we ate at a private table in the Royakan’s hushed dining room. The other guests politely murmured to one another, sitting on the floor, hidden from our view by bamboo blinds. Soothing music enhanced the ambience; minimalist and dreamy, bell melodies. The meals featured multiple courses. Small soups, seaweeds, fish, meat, eggs and a myriad of tiny dishes. All were immaculately presented.

Like all good Royakans, Oyado Yamakyu had an Onsen. Late in the evening, after the large meal had digested, I padded quietly through the hallways and down in the rickety old lift to the steaming basement spa. There was no-one else there. Lining the edges of the pool was a row of small pink plastic stools, which faced steamed up mirrors. First - as is required - I took a pre-soak shower seated on a stool. Only after that was it acceptable for entry to the pool. As I floated in the water, the only sounds were the gurgling pool overflow and a steamy hissing. As always, it was hot in the extreme. The Japanese pastime of long hot baths is something I could get used to. Afterwards, sleep comes easily.

The next morning we walked the old streets of Takayama. Many of the lanes feature traditional dark wooden homes; immaculately maintained with every detail thoughtfully considered. These are the old merchants’ houses, dating to the Edo Period . Aside from an occasional elderly person on a bicycle, or child returning from school, the streets are quiet and empty,. We find ourselves whispering in the street, lest we disturb an unseen resident on the other side of a gate or wall.

Later, down by the main Takayma river, things seem a little more lively. We stumble upon a small weekly market. Here, retired locals sell handicrafts to tourists. Children eat ice creams. Large red and orange carp drift in the river pools. The stallholders acknowledge us, but are reserved. There is no hard sell here.

Nearby, located in a compact old rickety wooden building, is the Hidatakayama Retro Museum. We find this repository filled with a kaleidoscope of old popular culture toys, games and gadgets. Neon manga dolls crowd the shelves, aliens, spacemen, monsters and superheroes glare through glass cabinets. Vintage computer games - which you can play - flash from screens and pop, whir or bleep to themselves. It’s a world of 1970s, 1980s and even 1990s Japanese retro futurism. This gaudy neon museum is unexpected in an historic mountain town, but when we step back into the traditional Takayama backstreets, the contrast is refreshing.

After this tech-nostalgic experience, we once again find ourselves time-travelling. Sheltering from the rain, we enter an old-fashioned English styled tea rooms. As if this is all perfectly normal, we order orange cake and Earl Grey tea. The wait staff wear pin striped suits and interact with the polite formality of a mens club or 1920s speakeasy.

After several days in the town, we find Takayma has been a welcome break from the urban sprawl of Osaka and Tokyo. It is a quiet place that successfully plays homage to multiple past worlds - from the traditional Edo, to Japanese deco, retro and to a schizophrenic mix of all of these. The comfort with which these multiple eras co-exist feels so natural and effortless., you almost don’t notice it.

This journey took place in April 2024. Photos taken on a Nikon FM3a with a Nikon 35mm f1.4 and 85mm f2, Cinestill 800T 35mm film.