Nestled among the dramatic peaks of the Japanese Alps lies the high plateau of Kamikochi; the name means ‘Where the gods descended’. The Azusa River flows through a valley formed by great elemental upheavals, including glaciers and volcanic eruptions, over many thousands of years.
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A traditional Japanese feast, a kaiseki, is a thing of beauty. It isn’t just a meal; it’s an art form balancing taste, texture, appearance, and colour. The dishes are beautifully arranged and presented, on plates chosen to enhance the visual impact, and equally beautifully decorated, often with edible garnishes.
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Red, in Japan, is the colour of the sun (not yellow as in other cultures). It stands for life, power and protection, but also for death. It is thought capable of expelling demons and illness. You see red everywhere; on temple roofs, torii gates at shrines, lanterns and pagodas. And in the bibs and caps worn by the haunting Jizō statues of Kanmangafuchi Abyss in Nikko.
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There was something special about Takayama. I could feel it in the air as soon as I stepped off the train – crisp, fresh mountain air, so refreshing after the heat of Kyoto.
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‘Excuse me, may we ask you some questions?’ The three school girls spoke in chorus, politely and in good English. We naturally agreed and, armed with a clip-board and a work-book with a set of these questions, they proceeded to ‘interview’ us.
