Matsumoto beyond the castle: a slow day among back-lane shrines and old bookshops

The Azusa (あずさ) sets most travellers down at Matsumoto with a castle in mind, and by mid-morning the black keep has its ring of tripods. Two streets east, along a shallow river, none of that has arrived. A man is sweeping the step of a coffee shop that has printed no sign in any language, and a stone frog watches the water go by.

Along the Metoba, where the frogs are

Nawate-dori (縄手通り, roughly the rope street) runs a few hundred metres along the north bank of the Metoba-gawa (女鳥羽川), close enough to the water that you hear it under the shopfronts. The stalls are small and old-fashioned — a taiyaki griddle, a case of secondhand toys, a shop that sells only pickles — and the presiding spirit is a frog, cast in stone and stamped on shutters, a nod to the kajika frogs that once sang from these banks. Nobody hurries here, because there is nothing to catch.

縄手の主は、川べりに座る一匹の蛙である。

At the eastern mouth of the street stands Yohashira-jinja (四柱神社), a shrine folded so tightly into the shopping lane that first-timers walk into its precinct before they mean to. Its trees hold the noise down; people cut through on their lunch break, bow without breaking stride, and are gone.

The shrine you reach by accident

Ten minutes south, on a lane that carries no tour signage, Fukashi-jinja (深志神社) keeps a quieter register. It is a Tenman shrine, dedicated among others to Sugawara no Michizane (菅原道真), the deity students petition before examinations, and its ema (絵馬, the wooden votive plaques) carry the small anxious handwriting of local teenagers rather than the wishes of visitors. Come on an ordinary weekday and you may have the gravel to yourself, a bell rope, and the sound of a broom. What hours the shrine office keeps shifts with the season; the noticeboard by the gate, or the Matsumoto city tourism site, is where to confirm before you count on a stamp or an amulet.

Kura walls, and the coffee behind them

Cross back over the river and the ground changes underfoot to Nakamachi (中町), a street of kura (蔵) storehouses whose merchants rebuilt in fireproof plaster after an old fire took the wooden town. The look that resulted — white walls latticed with black tile, called namako-kabe (海鼠壁, sea-cucumber wall) for its raised ridges — now shelters sake sellers, craft rooms, and a handful of coffee places that keep their volume low. Look for the one with the smaller sign. Inside, the light arrives late and sideways through deep windows, the master pours by hand, and a cup costs about what a careful pour-over costs in any city; the figure is written on the counter card rather than a menu board, so read it before you settle in.

Afternoon light on the shelves

Matsumoto has long leaned toward mingei (民藝), the folk-craft movement, and the leaning shows on its bookshelves. Secondhand shops here carry more art, craft, and mountaineering than a town this size has any right to — the Northern Alps begin just up the valley, and their literature ends up down here. The good shops are not on the main arcade but a turning off it, up a stair or behind a curtain, and they do their best trade in the afternoon, when the light reaches the back wall and someone finally has time to reshelve. Prices are pencilled inside the cover in the old way. If a door is dark at three, it is not shut for good; many keep irregular days, so hold your plan loosely.

A castle town that, in its back streets, quietly forgot to be about the castle.

Getting there, and when to go

The fast way in is the Azusa limited express from Shinjuku along the Chuo line, run by JR East; from the Hokuriku Shinkansen at Nagano you drop south on the Shinonoi line. Everything above sits within a walking loop of a few hours from the station, which is the point — leave the car, which only fights the one-way lanes. Go on a weekday morning if you want the shrines empty, and note that on one early-summer weekend the Matsumoto Craft Fair fills Agata-no-mori (あがたの森) park and the town along with it; the dates move year to year, so check the fair's own listing and the city tourism site before you book a room. The one mistake to avoid is building the day around a single kissa (喫茶) or bookshop door. Hours here are personal, not posted, and the pleasure is in walking until an open one finds you.