K-Samurai Tours

Growing up in a thatched-roof house, or kayabuki, isn't just something you see in history books—for me, it was real life until I was about five years old.

No, I didn't grow up in the famous UNESCO World Heritage villages of Shirakawa-go or Gokayama. The truth is, about 50 years ago, almost all the snow-heavy, mountainous regions of Toyama Prefecture were dotted with these traditional thatched homes. Just like in Gokayama, families raised silkworms for silk and made traditional Japanese paper (washi)—though we probably skipped the gunpowder production!

I still fondly remember waking up in the morning to the gentle kasa-kasa rustling of silkworms moving in the space above our ceiling. As a kid who loved bugs, I thought those little silkworms were absolutely adorable.

Eventually, our thatched house was torn down and replaced with a standard modern Japanese home. In a way, it had to happen. Maintaining a thatched roof requires an immense amount of time, effort, and money—something only possible with the tight-knit community cooperation (yui) found in larger villages like Shirakawa-go.　

Even so, that classic Japanese landscape where thatched roofs blend seamlessly into nature is gone from my hometown forever. Today, whenever I visit Ainokura, Suganuma, or Shirakawa-go as a tour guide, a deep wave of nostalgia washes over me. I might be the only one standing there feeling like I’ve stepped right back into my childhood home.

Lately, we have seen a massive surge in inquiries from international travelers looking for a deeper cultural experience in Inami, Johana, and Fukumitsu. Behind this interest lies the legacy of Shiko Munakata, the world-renowned woodblock print master known as the "Van Gogh of Japan."

I recently conducted a field study in Nanto to design a brand-new storytelling tour, visiting the Fukumitsu Museum, his former residence (Riu-ga-sai), and Kotoku-ji Temple.

In 1945, having lost his Tokyo home and artwork to WWII air raids, a broken Munakata found refuge in Toyama. What saved him was "Dotoku"—the profound spiritual virtue embedded in the Toyama soil—alongside his resonance with the "Mingei" (Folk Crafts) movement.

Standing in his former home, where his creative frenzy was so overwhelming that he even covered the bathroom walls and ceilings with paintings of goddesses, the essence of Mingei finally clicked for me:

"True beauty is the soul and devotion of the craftsman poured into everyday objects, woven into daily life and passed down through generations."

In Toyama, Munakata learned to shed his artistic ego and surrender to a higher force, transforming him into an international icon who went on to win grand prizes at the Venice Biennale.

For global audiences, his frantic carving speed feels like dynamic "Action Painting." He achieved the raw, emotional impulse that Western modernists strove for, but through a centuries-old Japanese medium.

We are crafting a high-value tour that goes beyond mere museums—connecting the spaces where his soul was reborn with the living workshops of contemporary artisans keeping this spirit alive.

Toyama's cultural depth is truly extraordinary. Stay tuned for the official tour launch!

I recently had the pleasure of guiding guests through the iconic Snow Canyon (Yuki-no-Otani). While the towering 16-meter snow walls are a modern marvel, the true essence of Tateyama lies in its profound history as a sacred realm.

The Sacred Peaks and "Mountain Patrols"

Standing at Murodo, one gazes upon Mt. Jodo—the "Pure Land." For centuries, Tateyama was a site of spiritual rebirth for pilgrims. Yet, during the Edo period, these peaks served a more pragmatic purpose. The Kaga Domain deployed "Yamamawari" (Mountain Patrols) to these ridges, utilizing the rugged terrain as a natural fortress to guard the provincial borders.

The Mystery of Mt. Tsurugi

To the north sits the formidable Mt. Tsurugi, long deemed unclimbable. When the first modern surveying team finally summited in 1907, they were shocked to find a bronze staff head and a sword from the Heian period. It is a humbling reminder that shugendo ascetics had conquered this "needle of rock" a thousand years ago, driven by faith alone.

Walking through the spring snow, my guests and I felt more than just the cold mountain air—we felt the lingering echoes of samurai, scouts, and ancient monks.

Tour Guide Note: The contrast between the serene white plains and the intense history of the Hokuriku region makes every trip to Murodo a journey through time.

Have you ever wondered what fueled the powerful samurai of the Kaga Domain? During the Edo period, the diet of a samurai in Kanazawa was a fascinating blend of stoic discipline and refined regional flavors.

The Samurai Table

While high-ranking samurai enjoyed elaborate multi-course banquets called Honzen Ryori, the daily life of a typical warrior was defined by Ichiju-issai (one soup, one side). Their meals usually consisted of:

• Brown rice or barley: The essential energy source.

• Miso soup: Often enriched with seasonal vegetables or tofu.

• Pickled vegetables: For preservation and flavor.

• Seasonal seafood: Thanks to the proximity to the Sea of Japan, dried or salted fish like yellowtail (buri) were common treats.

Jibuni: The Soul Food of Kaga

One dish stands out as the crown jewel of Kanazawa’s culinary heritage: Jibuni. This thick, comforting stew features thinly sliced duck (or chicken) coated in wheat flour, simmered with bamboo shoots, shiitake mushrooms, and traditional Kanazawa fu (wheat gluten).

The Purpose of Jibuni: Originally a home-cooked dish for samurai families, the wheat flour coating serves a dual purpose: it locks in the juices of the meat to keep it tender and naturally thickens the broth into a rich gravy. It was designed to provide warmth and stamina during the snowy Hokuriku winters.

Where to Experience Jibuni Today

If you are visiting Kanazawa or the wider Hokuriku region, you can still dine like a samurai at these iconic locations:near Kenrokuen Garden, Omicho Market, Asadaya or Suganuma (fine dining)