— Layers of History Served on a Small White Plate

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Prologue: The Air Feels Clearer

As you follow the Maruyama River northward, the scenery slowly shifts. The familiar Tajima landscape of fields and mountains gives way to something different. Straight lattice doors, long stretches of white plaster walls, sharply cut stone foundations. On the table, buckwheat noodles are served not in one large bowl but on a stack of small white plates. This is Izushi.

Often nicknamed the “Little Kyoto of Tajima,” Izushi feels more unusual than that simple phrase suggests. Unlike other towns in the region, Izushi carries a distinct and multilayered character: myths of foreign gods, traces of ancient administration, a strategic stronghold in the Warring States period, a feudal castle town, white porcelain crafts, soba culture served on plates, and even one of Japan’s oldest clock towers. Izushi has kept reinventing itself as a “center,” layer by layer, across the centuries.

I live with hemiplegia, the result of a disability acquired later in life. Walking requires care; steps and crowds quickly exhaust me. Yet in Izushi, I find myself wanting to walk. Why? Because the town is designed with a philosophy that resonates with my own life: small accumulations, space left as margin, and time shared openly.

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1｜Izushi Began as a “Center” from the Periphery

At the heart of Izushi is a myth about an outsider. According to legend, Amenohiboko, a prince from Silla (Korea), crossed the sea with eight treasures and settled in Tajima. Today, Izushi Shrine enshrines him, preserving this memory of welcoming “knowledge from outside.”

Amenohiboko is said to have opened up the muddy sea of Tajima, carving rivers and making the land usable. This myth embodies how imported skills and wisdom transformed local life. While many mountain communities built their identity around inward-looking beliefs, Izushi defined itself from the start by looking outward.

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2｜The Scarcity of Flat Land Created a Chosen Crossroads

Tajima is rugged, with mountains pressing close to the sea. Flat plains are rare. Izushi, however, sits within a relatively broad basin, making it an ideal place for farming and settlement.

Nearby, place names such as Kokufu (“provincial government”) remain, suggesting that Tajima’s provincial capital once stood close. This geographical position made Izushi a natural hub for administration and travel.

Crucially, Izushi did not remain just a waypoint. Through markets, temples, shrines, and later castle town planning, it became a destination in itself—a “chosen crossroads.”

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3｜The Power That Descended: Izushi Castle Town

During the Warring States period, the Yamana clan ruled Tajima and built the massive Arikoyama Castle high on a 321-meter mountain. Its sprawling fortifications symbolized power through defense.

But after the Battle of Sekigahara, priorities shifted. In 1604, Koide Yoshihide descended from the mountain and built Izushi Castle at its foot, creating a castle town integrated with everyday life. Even after the One Castle Per Province decree, Izushi Castle remained the only domain castle in Tajima, cementing the town as the political center of the region.

This decision to descend from mountain to plain was more than architectural—it was symbolic of shifting from “guarding” to “opening.”

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4｜Borders That Sharpened Editing Skills

South of Izushi lay Ikuno Silver Mine, a vital source of revenue for the Tokugawa shogunate and governed directly as tenryō (shogunal land). This created a patchwork: shogunal lands intertwined with domain lands.

Such overlapping jurisdictions complicated trade, taxation, and migration, requiring constant negotiation and adaptation. Izushi developed a culture of mediation and editing—turning friction into resilience.

This dynamic echoes modern life, where we navigate the overlapping rules of companies, governments, hospitals, and families. Boundary zones often produce the skills needed to thrive.

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5｜Porcelain and Soba—The White Aesthetic That Unified the Town

Izushi’s distinct identity crystallized around “white.”

Izushi Ware Porcelain

In the late 18th century, local clay suitable for porcelain was discovered, and workshops began producing white porcelain. By the Meiji period, Izushi ware had earned acclaim at expositions, celebrated for its translucent whiteness. The town’s white walls and porcelain shared a common aesthetic foundation.

Soba on Small Plates

When the Sengoku-period Sengoku clan relocated from Ueda in Shinshu, soba-making techniques came with them. Over time, a unique style emerged: soba served on stacks of small porcelain plates. Diners adjust seasonings and pace themselves, one plate at a time.

Porcelain gave not just taste but a visual identity. The “white” unified both architecture and dining culture, creating a town-wide grammar of aesthetics.

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6｜Shinkoro: Time as Public Property

At the center of town stands Shinkoro, a four-story wooden clock tower built in 1871. Initially, drums marked the hours. In 1881, a mechanical clock was installed.

While once thought to be Japan’s oldest clock tower, research later showed it was second oldest. Yet the ranking matters less than the symbolism: time, once hidden in the castle’s keep, became visible and audible for all.

By making time a public good, Izushi built trust. People could agree on appointments, and society could function with shared rhythm. The clock tower embodies Izushi’s leap into modernity.

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7｜A Multi-Centered Core Compared to the Rest of Tajima

Elsewhere in Tajima, towns have clear single identities:

Kami and Shin’onsen: fishing and hot springs.

Kinosaki: therapeutic spa culture.

Asago: mining at Ikuno and mountain valleys.

Yabu: mountain agriculture and later factories.

Izushi, however, never relied on just one core. Its identity spans myth, administration, warfare, politics, crafts, cuisine, and modern technology. It is not a “single-centered” town but a “multi-centered” one. This multiplicity is precisely what makes Izushi appear so unusual.

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8｜“Difference” as Strategy, Not Weakness

Many towns emphasize sameness for comfort. Izushi does the opposite—it layers differences, then edits them into unity. Foreign gods, unusual geography, overlapping jurisdictions, porcelain whiteness, soba culture, and the shared time of Shinkoro.

Together, they form not fragmentation but resilience. Izushi’s “difference” is not a weakness; it is a deliberate survival strategy.

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9｜Walking Tips (From a Disabled Traveler’s Perspective)

For someone like me, traveling with limited mobility, Izushi offers lessons:

Walk in loops: Start at Shinkoro, circle through the castle ruins, streets, pottery shops, soba restaurants, and back again.

Set micro-goals: Use benches, bridges, and temple gates as short resting points.

Edit the path: Choose slopes even if they’re longer. Reaching the destination matters more than shortcuts.

Eat soba like progress markers: One plate at a time, adjusting toppings, savoring small victories.

Keep 20% energy for the way back: Leave some experiences for the next visit.

Izushi’s culture of “small accumulations” aligns perfectly with accessible travel.

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10｜Timeline of Transformations

Ancient era: Possible provincial capital nearby (Kokufu).

Myth: Amenohiboko from Silla.

1574: Arikoyama Castle built by the Yamana clan.

1604: Izushi Castle constructed, political hub.

1706: Izushi soba introduced.

Late 1700s–1800s: Porcelain (Izushi ware) developed.

1871: Shinkoro clock tower erected.

Each stage, Izushi shifted roles yet remained a center.

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11｜Seven Lessons Izushi Offers

1. Welcome knowledge from outside.

2. Turn crossroads into destinations.

3. Have the courage to descend and change form.

4. Convert friction at borders into strength.

5. Leave white margins.

6. Mark progress in small plates.

7. Share time to build trust.

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Epilogue: Placing “Today” on a White Plate

Before leaving, I imagined placing my “today” on a small white plate. Even if I could not walk far, I had understood one truth of the town with my own body.

Difference does not mean isolation. It is the margin that reconnects the world and the self. White is the color of starting over. Small plates make challenges easier. Clock hands, though delayed, always move forward again.

That is why I want to support Izushi—not only as a tourist site but as a town with a blueprint for living. Perhaps your “today” too can rest gently on a small white plate.

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FAQ

Q1. Why is Izushi called “Little Kyoto”?
Because its Edo-period castle town layout and white-walled streets resemble Kyoto.

Q2. What is Izushi ware?
It is a porcelain craft developed in the late Edo period, famous for its pure white finish.

Q3. How is Izushi soba different?
It is served on small plates (“sara soba”), allowing diners to enjoy variations one bite at a time.

Q4. What are must-see spots in Izushi?
Izushi Castle ruins, Shinkoro clock tower, Izushi Shrine, porcelain workshops, and soba restaurants.