Solo in Matsumoto: A Peaceful Japanese Retreat Beyond Tokyo's Crowds

Matsumoto Castle (松本城), one of Japan's few remaining original castles, stands as a testament to feudal architecture with its distinctive black exterior earning it the nickname 'Crow Castle.' Unlike the reconstructed concrete fortresses found elsewhere in Japan, this National Treasure dates back to the 16th century, with wooden interiors that creak with authentic history.

Arriving early on my second morning—equipped with my trusty travel tripod—I captured the castle in morning light before tour buses arrived. The interior reveals surprisingly steep wooden stairs (a defensive feature) and impressive views of the Northern Alps from the top floor.

What struck me most was how the castle grounds became a community space as the day progressed. Elderly men played shogi under maple trees, their concentration mirroring my own as I sketched in my journal. This wasn't just a tourist attraction but a living part of Matsumoto's identity—something I've noticed is increasingly rare in Japan's more frequented destinations.

Nakamachi Street, with its preserved kura (storehouse) buildings featuring distinctive white latticed walls, became my daily ritual. This historic merchant district exemplifies what Germans call Entschleunigung—the art of slowing down—something I've learned to value deeply in my travels.

I spent hours in FUKUROsha, a converted kura now housing a café and gallery where the owner, Tanaka-san, shared stories of the building's 150-year history while preparing perfect pour-over coffee. When he learned of my Japanese heritage, he insisted on showing me family photographs from the Meiji era stored in the building's original vault.

For those collecting meaningful souvenirs rather than trinkets, Nakamachi offers artisanal shops where tradition and craftsmanship prevail. I found myself drawn to Miyasaka Brewery's tasting room, where sixth-generation sake brewers explained the nuances of their craft. The travel journal I carried became filled with tasting notes and sketches of the traditional sugidama (cedar balls) hanging outside the brewery, signaling fresh sake within.

While Matsumoto itself offers plenty to explore, its proximity to the Japanese Alps provides opportunities for nature immersion. Kamikōchi, a protected highland valley about 90 minutes from Matsumoto by bus, became my sanctuary for two days of this journey.

The valley, situated at 1,500 meters elevation, offers gentle hiking trails alongside the crystal-clear Azusa River. As an educator who spends days surrounded by the energetic chaos of young children, I found profound restoration in this landscape. The Japanese concept of shinrin-yoku (forest bathing) came alive as I walked beneath larch trees turning golden in the autumn light.

I stayed overnight at the modest but comfortable Kamikōchi Nishi-itoya Mountain Lodge, allowing me to experience the valley after day-trippers departed. This decision proved invaluable—watching the alpenglow illuminate the peaks of Hotaka and Yakedake from the wooden deck of the lodge, completely alone except for curious macaque monkeys, was worth the additional expense.

My hiking daypack proved perfect for carrying essentials while keeping my hands free for photography and occasional note-taking. The trails here are well-maintained and suitable for intermediate hikers, though proper footwear is essential as some sections can be slippery after rain.

Matsumoto's culinary scene balances traditional flavors with surprising innovation—something I might have missed had I not ventured beyond typical tourist recommendations. My background in early childhood education has taught me that the most meaningful learning happens through curiosity and conversation, an approach that served me equally well in discovering Matsumoto's food culture.

Soba noodles reign supreme here, with the region's pure mountain water and climate creating ideal conditions for buckwheat cultivation. At Takagi, a third-generation soba shop, I watched masters hand-cut noodles with rhythmic precision before enjoying them with nothing more than a simple tsuyu dipping sauce that allowed their nutty flavor to shine.

One evening, following a recommendation from my ryokan host, I found myself at Hikariya Nishi, an izakaya housed in a 130-year-old former kimono shop. The chef, noticing my interest in the preparation techniques, invited me to sit at the counter where we conversed in my limited Japanese supplemented by his occasional English. What followed was a procession of small plates highlighting local ingredients: horse sashimi (a regional specialty), tempura mountain vegetables, and sake-steamed river fish.

I captured these culinary experiences with my mirrorless camera, whose discreet size and excellent low-light performance proved ideal for documenting meals without disturbing the intimate atmosphere of these establishments.

For accommodations, I chose a modest ryokan (traditional inn) rather than a modern hotel—a decision that transformed my experience of Matsumoto. Ryokan Seifuso, located in a quiet residential area about 15 minutes' walk from the castle, has been operated by the same family for four generations.

My room featured tatami floors, sliding fusuma doors, and a small alcove with seasonal ikebana arrangements that changed daily. Each morning began with a traditional Japanese breakfast served in my room—grilled fish, tamago, miso soup, and small seasonal side dishes arranged with the thoughtful precision that characterizes Japanese cuisine.

What distinguished this stay was the genuine connection formed with the okami-san (proprietress), Yamada-san. Upon learning of my Japanese heritage and interest in education, she introduced me to her daughter who teaches at a local elementary school. This led to an impromptu invitation to visit the school, where I observed striking differences and similarities between Japanese and American early childhood education approaches—an unexpected professional development opportunity within my vacation.

While ryokan stays typically cost more than business hotels, the cultural immersion they provide is invaluable. I recommend bringing a small travel slippers for comfort, as you'll remove shoes upon entering and house slippers aren't always available in larger sizes for Western guests.