Yamaguchi 山口市, Honshu, 2025
On the theme of travelling and being hungry for new experiences: you want to see new places and meet the people who live there while avoiding being influenced by other travellers' opinions (or at least I do). That way you are open to all sorts of possibilities, which brings me to Yamaguchi city.
My problem with it, through no fault of its own, is that it has appeared on the New York Times' "52 places to visit in 2024" list (which, annoyingly, I only discovered after I had arranged the visit). The article nominated the city for, among other things, its five-story pagoda, its youthful coffee entrepreneurs and its friendly laid-back vibe. All power to the author, who writes well, and to the city, which has all those good things, but I'd rather tread softly around the peripheries than follow the path beaten by the NYT. That meant I was obliged to look for a different Yamaguchi city. Did I find it? Well, no and then yes.
My first day, a Sunday, was a washout. I took a long hot walk through the suburbs, which were attractive but low-key (except for some sports fields which I couldn't get into because they were part of a school, and a gymnasium which I was not allowed to enter because it was private and belonged to the police). Then I visited some museums seeking local inspiration: the folklore museum was interesting but very small; the prefectural museum was OK but mainly for kids; and the prefectural art museum was closed. Still searching for new angles, I shuffled down the long shopping arcade, where I drank a cream soda and was given a leaflet by a Buddhist proselytiser. As for photos: nada, zilch.
The second day was a bit more memorable. I went up into the hills and got spooked by the prospect of stepping on a mamushi (a Japanese viper). When I got back, I sunk into and emerged velvet-skinned from a long soak in an onsen. I visited a very bad art installation. And I ate an unforgivably awful meal at a non-Japanese restaurant, this being my own stupid fault. While there was nothing unusual about any of these activities — mamushis are endemic in Japan, Yamaguchi has nice hot-springs, and disappointment can be found everywhere — I at least experienced a few things that were not on a particular American newspaper's list of recommendations.
On the third day, I found what I was looking for.
Yamaguchi 山口市, Honshu, 2025
On the theme of travelling and being hungry for new experiences: you want to see new places and meet the people who live there while avoiding being influenced by other travellers' opinions (or at least I do). That way you are open to all sorts of possibilities, which brings me to Yamaguchi city.
My problem with it, through no fault of its own, is that it has appeared on the New York Times' "52 places to visit in 2024" list (which, annoyingly, I only discovered after I had arranged the visit). The article nominated the city for, among other things, its five-story pagoda, its youthful coffee entrepreneurs and its friendly laid-back vibe. All power to the author, who writes well, and to the city, which has all those good things, but I'd rather tread softly around the peripheries than follow the path beaten by the NYT. That meant I was obliged to look for a different Yamaguchi city. Did I find it? Well, no and then yes.
My first day, a Sunday, was a washout. I took a long hot walk through the suburbs, which were attractive but low-key (except for some sports fields which I couldn't get into because they were part of a school, and a gymnasium which I was not allowed to enter because it was private and belonged to the police). Then I visited some museums seeking local inspiration: the folklore museum was interesting but very small; the prefectural museum was OK but mainly for kids; and the prefectural art museum was closed. Still searching for new angles, I shuffled down the long shopping arcade, where I drank a cream soda and was given a leaflet by a Buddhist proselytiser. As for photos: nada, zilch.
The second day was a bit more memorable. I went up into the hills and got spooked by the prospect of stepping on a mamushi (a Japanese viper). When I got back, I sunk into and emerged velvet-skinned from a long soak in an onsen. I visited a very bad art installation. And I ate an unforgivably awful meal at a non-Japanese restaurant, this being my own stupid fault. While there was nothing unusual about any of these activities — mamushis are endemic in Japan, Yamaguchi has nice hot-springs, and disappointment can be found everywhere — I at least experienced a few things that were not on a particular American newspaper's list of recommendations.
On the third day, I found what I was looking for.