The taxi door automatically swings open on a street corner where there is a stone torii gate entrance to a shrine, shaded by camphor and zelkova trees and dedicated to the goddess of Mount Fuji. From here, it is easier to continue on foot, so I follow Mieko, my guide, through streets of wooden homes and whitewashed 18th-century warehouses – the remnants of an Edo castle town. High up on one building we spot a yanegami (a rooftop altar), believed to offer protection against disease and disaster – chiefly fire – that have ravaged the Shikemichi district repeatedly in its 400-year history. We are on the hunt for Kenichi Fushitani, a master artisan of chōchin paper lanterns – the kind that are ubiquitous in temples and shrines across Japan. It is a craft with a 1,000-year history, yet we are not in Kyoto, or even Kanazawa, but the industrial city of Nagoya in Aichi prefecture, Central Japan, better known for cars than crafts. We find Fushitani – smiling broadly in a happi coat (a lightweight jacket typically worn during festivals) – at Wazamon Chaya workshop in the Endoji Shopping Street, a historic arcade in what was once the heart of Nagoya's Edo downtown.
Nagoya Castle was rebuilt in 1959 after the original was destroyed during World War II. A lantern maker of 40 years, Fushitani explains that chōchin are deeply connected with the city. During the Edo era, the seventh lord ordered them to be strung up along Nagoya's main streets, and with the bamboo, washi, wood and lacquer needed for their construction all available locally, by the late 19th century, Nagoya was Japan's leading producer. Fushitani is one of only three makers left with the knowledge to make Nagoya Chōchin from scratch. "There is no manual," he explains. "Apprentices learn by watching" – and he places the skeleton of a lantern in front of us, instructing me to watch as he starts to paste glue onto the spiralling frame.
I have whizzed through Nagoya many times on the "Golden Route" between Tokyo and Kyoto. On the speeding shinkansen bullet train, Japan's fourth most populous city looks like an impenetrable grey mass. But, this spring, I hopped off to discover an easygoing city with a walkable centre, an un-flashy vibe and a giddying lack of tourists – not to mention a formidable samurai history. Not only is Nagoya at the geographical centre of Japan, but it was also central to events that shaped modern Japan. It was the birthplace of Japan's first shogun, the homeland of Japan's three great samurai unifiers – Toyotomi Hideyoshi, Oda Nobunaga and Tokugawa Ieyasu – and the seat of the Owari clan, the most powerful branch of the Tokugawa family that ruled Japan for 260 years. Their base was Nagoya Castle, the country's largest (by floor plan), which has a five-storey keep topped by two gold shachihoko; mythical characters like this sea creature are Nagoya's ubiquitous motif. The current, concrete structure was hastily built in 1959 after the original and swathes of central Nagoya were destroyed during World War II. It is closed to the public (it is not earthquake-proof), but the main reason to visit is the adjacent Honmaru Palace, a masterpiece of samurai residential architecture, built using original techniques and materials and opened in 2018.
Honmaru Palace is a masterpiece of samurai residential architecture. Initially home to the Nagoya lord and later reserved for the shogun's visits, the palace is unrivalled in its grandeur, and visitors can wander through hallways of tatami rooms decorated in gold leaf and adorned by Kano School paintings depicting tigers, birds and classical Chinese scenes that are symbols of power and legitimacy. Intricately carved panels cast shadows on gold and lacquer ceilings, there are secret doors which were built to conceal bodyguards, and rooms feature raised platforms for the shogun and his food. We stop for a humble lunch at an old-fashioned kishimen shop outside the palace. A Nagoya speciality with umami-rich broth and udon noodles with a satisfying chewiness. I slurp contentedly as Meiko reveals that the best Nagoya kishimen is actually to be found on the shinkansen platform at Nagoya station.
Kishimen is a local speciality made with umami-rich broth and udon noodles. Having seen the seat of the Nagoya lords, the natural next stop is the Tokugawa Art Museum, which houses a breathtaking collection of the treasures from the ruling family. More than 10,000 artefacts are in permanent rotation, including samurai and horse armour, domestic objects of exquisite quality, and pieces associated with tea ceremony, of which samurai were keen patrons. In a replica teahouse, there is a bamboo matcha scoop handmade by an Edo emperor and, on limited display, The Scoop of Tears, the last tea ceremony implement crafted by 16th-century wabi-sabi tea master Sen no Rikyu before his ritual suicide on the orders of warlord Toyotomi Hideyoshi. But the warrior relics surpass everything: I am amazed to see a katana long sword and a tantō, a short sword that belonged to Tokugawa Ieyasu, the founder of the Tokugawa shogunate. It was Tokugawa Ieyasu who ushered in the Edo era, a period of isolation and peace that saw the flourishing of arts and culture that we recognise today as quintessentially Japanese – things like woodblock printing, tea ceremonies and kabuki.
More than 10,000 artefacts are in permanent rotation at Tokugawa Art Museum. It is a contemporary kabuki troupe that catches my eye that evening, parading, in full costume, through Endoji arcade. I am back to try some local food, known as Nagoya meishi, with Takayuki Gyoten, guide and radio DJ. We start with Nagoya miso katsu – tonkatsu slathered in local red (soybean) miso – and tebasaki fried chicken wings at Syabaram izakaya. "It is one bite," says Gyoten, wolfing down a chicken wing and popping out two bones. I manage mine in three, giving myself time to savour the spicy-salty flavour. Across the arcade, we take a counter seat at Poro, for small plates (rapeseed blossom and bamboo shoots, mackerel, slow-cooked tebasaki) paired with regional sakes and conversation with chefs. The owner pours the sake in traditional cups as well as glasses to enable us to compare the tastes and aromas, with one deliciously smooth aged drop served hot and cold for comparison. "Do you serve hot sake in the UK?" Gyoten asks. "Not the good ones," I say.
And I know that this was a good one when, the next day, I am back at Nagoya station with a clear head in spite of my consumption, calculating if there is any way I can extend my stay – to see the maglev at the railway museum or visit Ghibli Park perhaps. Then I spot it: Sumiyoshi – the city's favourite noodle shop – serving Nagoya red-miso kishimen for just ¥770 (£4) a bowl. I am weighing up if I have time to grab a ticket to stand and slurp when the Tannoy announces the imminent arrival of my Tokyo-bound train. My time in Nagoya is up – but the noodles are just one more reason to return.
How to do it
Full-day tours in Nagoya cost from ¥16,000pp (£76), lantern-making workshops from ¥20,000pp (£95) and izakaya hopping from ¥18,000pp (£85) with Discover Nagoya Tours. The bullet train from Tokyo to Nagoya costs around ¥11,300 (£54). Direct flights from London to Tokyo with British Airways cost from £878 return, including all taxes and fees. Alternatively, Finnair's summer service from Helsinki offers return flights from London to Nagoya via Helsinki from £813.
Where to stay
Nikko Style Nagoya hotel, close to the Endoji and Shikemichi districts (15-minutes from Nagoya station), is a stylish spot with spacious rooms, a cafe serving Nagoya Trunk Coffee and Tokyobikes to borrow. Doubles start from ¥30,000 (£143) per night on a B&B basis. Alternatively, Nagoya JR Gate Tower Hotel is conveniently connected to Nagoya Station with doubles from ¥29,800 (£142) per night on a B&B basis. Or, for great value stay outside of the centre, hip crash-pad Base Layer Nagoya costs from just ¥13,000 (£61).
