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On a quiet street in the eastern part of Kagawa Prefecture, there is a udon shop called "Marutatsu." This place is not like the typical busy udon restaurants; it feels more like a refined experience of local culture.
Upon entering, the space is bright and spacious, allowing one to relax and savor the moment. I ordered a bowl of the signature udon, and the first thing I noticed was the presence of the noodles themselves. Made from Kagawa Prefecture's wheat "Sanuki no Yume," the noodles are both chewy and elastic, sliding smoothly and offering a delightful texture that showcases the vitality of hand-made noodles.
Next comes the soul of the dish: the broth. Made from small dried fish caught around Ibukijima in the Seto Inland Sea, the broth carries a profound umami flavor with a clear finish. Adding local specialties from Higashikagawa, such as Sanuki and wasanbon sugar, enhances the overall taste with a layer of warmth and smoothness. The sweetness is not overpowering; it gently highlights the umami of the fish, making it hard to resist drinking it down in one go.
This bowl of noodles can almost be said to be a microcosm of Higashikagawa. From local wheat and catches from Ibukijima to traditional wasanbon sugar, every element is closely connected to the land and culture. A simple bowl of udon, yet it embodies respect for the ingredients and a deep affection for the region.
When I left, I felt that I had not just eaten a bowl of noodles, but had also taken a flavorful journey through the landscape of Kagawa.
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If you're looking for fresh and affordable seafood in Takamatsu, "Jakoya" is definitely the top choice. Although it’s tucked away inside "Michi-no-Eki Genpei-no-Sato Mure," just follow the line of people, and you won't miss it.
The dining experience here is very casual; you simply choose your favorite dishes from the buffet. On that day, I selected braised stone bass caught in the Seto Inland Sea and a fried fish head as big as a basin. The sweet and salty flavor of the braised fish perfectly highlighted the freshness of the fish meat, while the fried fish head was crispy and rich in collagen, making every bite incredibly satisfying. Paired with a comforting bowl of squid rice and a bowl of miso soup, it was the most authentic local taste.
What impressed me most was the incredible value for money. I ordered a variety of main dishes and side dishes without spending much, making it a high CP value meal. After the meal, I bought some local specialties at the nearby souvenir shop and took a stroll at "Fusazaki Park" to help digest. The sea breeze combined with the feeling of happiness in my stomach truly embodies what travel should be like.
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Zao Fox Village, located in Miyagi Prefecture, is a special spot where visitors can interact closely with foxes. As soon as you enter the park, you can see the foxes freely moving around in the woods, some lazily lying down to sleep, while others stretch out in the sunlight, creating a very soothing scene.
The most unforgettable experience this time was participating in the limited-time "Fox Hugging Experience." Under the guidance of the staff, I put on a special protective suit and carefully held the foxes in my arms. Two foxes snuggled comfortably in my embrace, their fur fluffy and warm. Although I usually have cats at home and consider myself familiar with animals, I still couldn't help but feel nervous the moment I held the foxes, worried they might suddenly move, while also finding them incredibly cute.
In the park, you can also see the foxes resting casually on wooden houses, even sleeping directly in the sunlight, completely unconcerned about the visitors' gaze. Watching them stretch their limbs without a care in the world felt like time had slowed down.
As I left, I looked back at those figures, some running and some sleeping. This memory of encountering the foxes up close became the warmest and most special moment of my journey.
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Spring at Cafe Jardin in Jardin feels like a season gently wrapped in color.
In April in Takamatsu, the moss phlox are in full bloom. I made a special trip to this countryside café; as my car entered, the surroundings grew quiet, leaving city noise behind and only the wind and birdsong. Walking into the grounds, my eyes were instantly filled with a vast swath of pink—the moss phlox stretched like a carpet, rolling with the terrain and reflecting off a nearby pond, creating a beauty that seemed almost unreal. 
I chose an outdoor seat, admired the sea of flowers, and ordered a simple lunch and coffee. The food here is unpretentious yet carefully prepared: light dishes like pizza and pasta arrived at just the right temperature and with inviting aromas, naturally slowing the pace of the meal. 
What I loved most was the atmosphere. There was no urban noise, only the sound of a breeze through the blossoms, and occasional insects and small animals flitting about. I heard that during the moss phlox peak there is a "Flower Festival" that draws many visitors who come specifically to see this spectacular sight. 
Before leaving, I walked slowly around the garden once more. The pink, white, and pale purple moss phlox shimmered softly in the sunlight, as if the whole of spring had been gathered into this patch of land.
If spring in Takamatsu had a color, it would probably be the color of these moss phlox.
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On this trip to Tokushima, I made a point of visiting Mima City's famous Wakimachi Udatsu Townscape.
Walking into this historic street, traditional machiya townhouses from the Edo to Meiji periods stand neatly on both sides, and the strong sense of antiquity makes you feel as if you have stepped back in time.
The most striking feature is the tall udatsu rising on both sides of the roofs.
Originally built as firebreak walls to prevent fires from spreading, they later became symbols of merchants' wealth and status because of the high cost of construction.
White plaster walls, black lattice windows, and tiled roofs weave together an elegant streetscape. Strolling slowly along this street, you can not only admire the beauty of traditional architecture but also sense the historical atmosphere of a former commercial town.
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Today I joined the 11th “One-Day Hospitality Pilgrimage Walk” and walked a short section of the Shikoku pilgrimage route. The trip started at No. 75 temple Zentsuji, passed Nos. 76 and 77, and ended at No. 78 Tojo-ji Temple. For someone like me who has always lived in Kagawa, this was more than a hike; it felt like a journey to rediscover the land and its culture.
Before departure, local residents served steaming udon and tea to encourage participants. This practice, called hospitality, is one of the most moving sights along the Shikoku pilgrimage. Locals believe that treating pilgrims kindly is like welcoming Kukai himself, so they give generously and let travelers feel the deep warmth of human kindness.
Walking the old paths, we passed winter fields and quiet villages without the noise of the city—only footsteps and a light breeze. Zentsuji, as Kukai’s birthplace, stands with solemn grandeur; arriving at Tojo-ji Temple, the hilltop view opens to the Seto Inland Sea, broadening the outlook and calming the heart. Though only a little over ten kilometers, the route felt like crossing a thousand years, sharing the same path of faith with countless pilgrims.
This experience made me realize that the pilgrimage is not just a religious tour but a way to connect with nature, history, and people’s hearts. Even walking a small section can leave a warm, lasting impression.
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Snow is rare in Shikoku, but a heavy snowfall came a few days ago. Seeing the landscape blanketed in white for the first time felt especially fresh, and the children at home were so excited they made a little snowman. Excitement aside, I worried the vegetables in the garden might freeze, but with everything covered in white I didn’t know where to start, so I gave up.
Today the snow has eased a bit, so I quickly put on a coat and went to inspect. I watched the once-vibrant green leaves crushed under melting snow; though they showed some frost damage, their effort to stand upright in the cold revealed a resilient life force.
Turning back to the lopsided little snowman the children had made, quietly standing by the garden, my spirits unexpectedly cleared. Though this snowfall added some trouble to farm work, it also left an unforgettable surprise in this quiet winter day.
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When you come to Kagawa, if you have the chance to visit Higashikagawa City, don’t miss this venerable shop that has continued since the Edo period and is one of the few still insisting on making wasanbon sugar in-house — Mitani Sugar Manufacturing.
People know wasanbon for its delicate, elegant sweetness, but what drew me most this time was its predecessor, shimoshita sugar. Shimoshita is made by pressing and boiling sugarcane until the sugar naturally crystallizes; its color is a deep brownish hue similar to unrefined brown sugar, and it has a rich, full-bodied flavor that never feels cloying. Skilled artisans repeatedly knead it by hand, press out the molasses, and work it on wooden trays called "bon," layer by layer, slowly transforming it into wasanbon that is snow-white and melts on the tongue.
In an age that prizes speed and efficiency, Mitani Sugar Manufacturing still keeps to a slow, careful rhythm, and that makes it especially moving. When you let a piece of wasanbon dissolve in your mouth, the first impression is the mellow depth left by the shimoshita, followed by a gentle, unfolding sweetness. This sweetness, carrying two centuries of history, makes you fall in love with it before you know it.
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Located at the foot of Mt. Okoji in Sanuki City, Kagawa Prefecture, and adjacent to the 88th temple of the Shikoku Pilgrimage, Okoji Temple, the Astronomical Telescope Museum is the world’s only museum dedicated exclusively to astronomical telescopes.
The museum cleverly repurposes an abandoned elementary school building. Former classrooms now display small telescopes donated by individuals, evoking a warm sense of history; the old indoor pool houses imposing large telescopes from observatories across the country. This blend of old and new creates a fantastical scene with striking visual impact.
With more than two hundred telescopes in its collection, the museum not only traces the development of astronomical observation in Japan but also brings together many classic models that people dreamed of owning as children. The staff focuses on restoration and active preservation so these instruments are not merely static antiques but ready-to-use tools that can be pointed at the night sky, captivating astronomy enthusiasts.
Around 125 dedicated volunteers run the museum, more than half of whom come from outside the prefecture. By day, the museum offers in-depth tours and hands-on workshops guiding visitors to observe sunspots; by night, it holds viewing sessions that use the collection’s telescopes to capture the splendor of the planets.
These instruments, once destined for retirement, are reborn here and lead visitors to look up again at the grandeur of the universe. In the mountain air far from city noise, the pure starlight is enough to make one forget the manmade neon of urban life.
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Every year on January 3rd, Yoda-dera Temple, the inner sanctum of the Shikoku 88 Temple Pilgrimage, holds its New Year goma fire ritual. Goma is one of the most emblematic practices of the Shingon school, tracing its origins to ancient Indian fire offerings. By offering items to the flames and chanting mantras, the ritual symbolizes the burning away of worries, karmic obstacles, and impurities, transforming them into purification and the power of prayer.
We arrived at Yoda-dera around noon that day. The goma altar in front of the main hall had already been set up, and neatly stacked goma sticks waited quietly to be lit. Just after one o’clock, the mountain resounded with the low, distant sound of conch shells. Yamabushi in ceremonial robes blew the conches as they slowly walked toward the main hall, then chanted the Heart Sutra to Yakushi Nyorai, opening the ceremony.
After the sutra chanting, the monks and practitioners moved to the goma altar, marked the ritual boundary, established the protective enclosure, and performed rites facing the four directions to invite Buddhas, bodhisattvas, and guardian deities to descend and protect the site. As mantras and sutras rose and fell, the goma sticks were thrown into the fire in sequence. The flames grew stronger and the smoke shot into the sky, as if carrying the world’s wishes and prayers heavenward.
When all the goma sticks had burned away, the ritual opened for public worship. Visitors circled the goma altar in order, letting their bodies and clothing be touched by the smoke rising from the flames. The smoke is said to ward off misfortune and purify body and mind, bringing peace and health for the new year. Surrounded by swirling smoke, people pressed their hands together in silence, entrusting their wishes to the lingering warmth.
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