Iran's Caviar Coast

...a joyous and spontaneous moment:

a group of Kurdish youths, arm in arm, dancing to music
from their car parked close by.

Caviar Coast? Well, it used to be. But those salty black pearls from the Caspian Sea's sturgeon are in short supply these days, as overfishing depletes its numbers. There are still fishing boats bobbing about in North Iran's major port, Anzali, but these days it's Russian freighters that see most of the action, as they arrive to dock and unload steel reinforcing rods for Iran's expanding construction industry. You can see this in Anzali itself as houses disappear and apartment buildings rise in their place.

Anzali port with rocky breakwater; steps to waterside park

I'm in Iran, visiting friends. I'm here at an inauspicious time, right after the post-election rioting that made Tehran, temporarily, a dangerous place to be. And the weather is hot. It is mid-August. In the central part of the country, it's a dry heat - but keep in the shade if you can. In the north, on the coast, the humidity can be enervating

Stop to buy dates from a roadside stall

It's 8pm in Anzali, a few days after I come to the coast. I switch on the TV. Every channel lets me know that Ramadan has arrived. Bearded, turbaned clerics with grey faces recite the Koran and take part in Islamic ritual. The timing is precise: as the sun sinks behind the Western horizon, families can at last enjoy an evening meal, after a day of fasting. Ramadan is more closely observed in the great cities further south - Shiraz and Esfehan in particular - and lasts for one month. Each day, the devout must rise before dawn to eat, go without food all day and break their fast at magrib (sunset) prayer time with a meal called iftar. Sunni or (in Iran) Shia may continue to eat and drink after the sun has set until the next morning's fajr prayer call. The fast is an act of personal worship in which Muslims seek a raised awareness of closeness to Allah.

Anzali is a bustling city, even more bustling on Saturday when its open-air market welcomes locals to stalls offering fresh local produce, chickens, ducks, fish, herbs and spices. Fabrics on sale float from high hangers in the breeze. Everything is available, with the Made-in-China label ubiquitous, as it is everywhere else these days. And it is really difficult to get from one part of the city to another, as cars make the journey an agonizing bumper-to-bumper experience. Oh, well. There's a lot to look at while you wait. Including huge billboards displaying portraits of local soldiers lost in the Iran-Iraq War. No matter where you go in Iran, these memorials are a permanent reminder of sacrifice.

En route to Masouleh: two local soldiers memorialized in Fuman

Flag over grave salutes a fallen Anzali warrior

Anzali market: fish from the Caspian; sour cherries and limes

The Caspian is a huge inland sea, the largest enclosed body of water on earth with a surface area of 371,000 square kilometres. It has no outflows and is bounded by northern Iran, southern Russia, western Kazakhstan and Turkmenistan, and eastern Azerbaijan. It is very deep and slightly salty, about a third of the saltiness found in seawater. Its name derives most probably from ancient Sanskrit, Kashyapas.

Splashing about in the Caspian; boat rides for a few riales

The Caspian I get to see up close and personal is about five minutes from my friends' house. I see a stretch of grey sand, and, from time to time, small waves came crashing in. Other times, it is quiet and flat. The water doesn't seem very clean, but locals and visitors who come in droves from the dry south certainly have fun, emerging from their little tents to paddle and splash about until a zealous official with a whistle calls them from the water. There are rip tides here; a local youth was pulled out by such a rip and drowned during my stay. And if you look out, far out, you'll see lots of tiny black specks on the horizon: those Russian freighters making their approach to the Anzali docks.

Sunset over the Caspian

Turn around from the sea and there, behind you, are the mountains. The Alborz Massif is not far from Anzali, about an hour's drive, and it rises to about 1000m or so, even higher in some places. We drive one day up into the mountains, wild and fresh and green, jungle-dense sometimes or open and rural further on. Around one bend, we experience a joyous and spontaneous moment: a group of Kurdish youths, arm in arm, dancing to music from their car parked close by.

Kurdish boys dance by their car

Densely timbered mountain vista; sweeping green slopes further on

Ten minutes further on, we stop for kebabs and fresh-baked bread. Smoke drifts up from burning barbecues, lambs are slaughtered tactfully out of sight and then hung on display. Cars arrive, filled with hungry travelers. More cars arrive. Business is brisk and lots of riales change hands. The fresh lamb kebabs are served to us on long skewers, sizzling, delectable.

Lamb kebabs sizzle at a mountain stopover

Another day, another road, to a different part of the Alborz range. We're in Talesh country. The people here are ethnic Talesh, mountain people, who raise sheep for wool and meat. They speak Talesh. They also speak Gilicki, the language of the North. And they also speak Farsi, the major language of Iran. We're off to visit a fabled village, Masouleh, a thousand years old and over a thousand metres above sea level. It rises up the side of a timbered mountain and a plunging waterfall nearby feeds a gurgling stream that passes the village.

En route: rice farmers at work; an ancient timber-and-mud house

Masouleh

When we arrive, mist is moving in, blanketing the surrounding slopes. Masouleh is heritage-listed and much-visited because its architecture is unique. Its two-storey houses are coated with yellow clay (so you can see them in the mist) and not only have they been built into the mountain but are interconnected, one on top of another. Courtyards and roofs both serve as pedestrian areas, linked by stairs. You can't drive a car in Masouleh. You just park in a special area and walk. Up and up and up. Surrounding a central plaza are places to eat, shops and bakeries. I came away with hand-knitted bed socks, still smelling of freshly clipped mountain wool.

Masouleh shopping plaza; fresh bread, baked as you watch

Further along the coast, to the east, I come to stay in the city of Chalus (or Chaloos) more up-market than Anzali and the city that links directly, via an amazing mountain road, to Tehran. One day, we visit Lake Valasht, taking the Tehran road and turning off onto a side road after about half an hour. The journey offers us spectacular views and the lake is blue and beautiful, but like many parts of the north, strewn with garbage left over by visitors. Iranians who travel within their own country really do need to clean up their act.

Lake Valasht, about an hour from Chalus

Chalus also has many reminders of the Shah regime. Estates left by fleeing military officers and government officials are here, their gardens overgrown, the houses mouldering. The estate of the Shah's last wife, Empress Farah Diba, is here, too - a lonely, sadly shuttered mansion surrounded by palms and lush gardens. She can never return.

And Chalus has a great ride to the top of the mountain which backs the city. I get into a cable car and off we go, higher and higher, as the city shrinks beneath us, surrounded by rice farms, and the Caspian shimmers in the distance. One thousand metres up, the heat and humidity disappear. It's noon, or thereabouts, and from loudspeakers set high and hidden in leafy green foliage, the sound of the Call to Prayer echoes and re-echoes off huge grey granite boulders, edged with moss. It's cool, shaded, serene. And even better as a cloud descends and mist rolls in.

A family relaxes as the mist rolls in on the mountaintop

This is Iran's North - the Caspian region that stretches west to east. The caviar has all but disappeared but to be here is still an indulgence, to be fondly remembered from afar.

Abu Dhabi: a dream made real

...it's a city of parks and gardens; you don't need to drive into the desert
to find a green oasis. The oasis is here.

At night, it looks like a dream from the Arabian Nights, as it rises, moonlit, from its desert landscape; by day, in the merciless sunlight, its glistens wedding-cake white, as its classic domes and minarets reach for the sky above. This is the spectacular new mosque that not only defines Abu Dhabi, its home, but also Mid Eastern Islam.

With its Moorish archways and classic Arab minarets, the mosque is huge - its main prayer hall designed to accommodate up to 9,000 worshippers. White marble predominates in the exterior courtyard and inside the main building. Sinuous floral designs, in coloured stone and pearlshell, inset into white marble floors and pillars, are visually thrilling. The world's largest hand-made carpet is here, made in Iran and measuring 5,627 m2 (60,570 sq ft). It weighs 47 tons. And if you look up, as you will, there it is: the world's largest chandelier - a 10m x 15m over-the-top dazzler.

The Sheikh Zayad Mosque: a dream in white marble


Inside the huge prayer hall; the main chandelier; floor inlay detail

I am in Abu Dhabi briefly, staying at the ultra luxe and perfectly positioned Hilton, one of three Hiltons in the city. It overlooks the Corniche, the city's seaside promenade and the golden sand of its private beach. The hotel has a fitness centre, three pools, three tennis courts and a luxurious spa. Be sure to dine at the Hilton's Le Terrazza restaurant and there's live music at the Jazz Bar. The city centre is just ten minutes away and if you're in the mood for shopping, head for Marina Mall. It offers everything you seek - and then some.

Abu Dhabi Hilton: luxury, comfort - and its own private beach!

Abu Dhabi is the capital of the United Arab Emirates and it lies on a T-shaped island jutting into the Persian Gulf from the central western coast. With a population approaching one million, the city is the home of the Emirati Royal Family and important government offices. Affluent and forward-looking, the city is more Westernized than many other Arab cities and although it's one of the world's largest producers of oil, it is currently diversifying its economy through investments in financial services and tourism.

Satellite view of Abu Dhabi; the city skyline; architecture that dazzles

Qasr al-Hosn is the oldest (1761) building here; before oil was discovered in 1958, fishing, pearl diving, camel herding and growing dates typified the region's economy. It became a tribal confederation in the 18th century. A hundred years later, the Abu Dhabi and neighbouring Dubai tribes parted company and today the two cities are friendly rivals. The visionary Sheikh Zayed became Abu Dhabi's ruler in 1966 and he was instrumental in the creation of the United Arab Emirates. After his death in 2004, his son Sheikh Khalifa bin Zayed Al Nahyan became the hereditary ruler of Abu Dhabi (UAE)

Etihad is fast becoming one of the world's leading airlines

Abu Dabi is hot. I am here in August, en route to Iran. Out at the airport, transferring from one Etihad flight to another (this is Abu Dhabi's national carrier, recently voted world’s leading airline by more than 180,000 travel industry professionals from over 175 countries) stepping outside was like stepping into a blast furnace, as the wind whistled in from the desert. Cooler weather prevails between November and March, so plan your visit accordingly. But don't worry. All of Abu Dhabi is air-conditioned. This city of broad boulevards, lined with palms, is also one of the cleanest I have ever seen. And it's a city of parks and gardens; you don't need to drive into the desert to find a green oasis. The oasis is here.

Neatsville: green and clean; the desert beyond

I have just a few days here, so I make the most of my stay. The city tour, for starters, gives me a close up look at that changing skyline - plus a visit to a Gold Market, where you can purchase not only gold but exquisite jewelry. I could have gone out into the desert for a 4-wheel drive adventure that includes falconry, dinner and belly dancing (the latter was not on the menu; it was Ramadan) but I opted for dinner on a dhow, a converted fishing vessel. Our delightful Egyptian host served up six delicious courses including lobster and lamb, as we watched the brilliantly lit city skyline glide past, reflected on the black water. The dhow was air-conditioned and prettied up in pink.

What I notice immediately here in Abu Dhabi is its cultural diversity. Most of the inhabitants are expatriate workers from India, Pakistan, Eritrea, Ethiopia, Somalia, Nepal, Bangladesh, Sri Lanka, the Philippines, the United Kingdom and various countries from across the Arab world. The native-born population are Arabic-speaking Persian Gulf Arabs who are part of a clan-based society. The Al Nahyan family, part of the al-Falah branch of the Bani Yas clan, rules the emirate and has a central place in society. Representing this amazing cultural mix are two people I meet during my short visit. One is Humnath, the Nepali concierge at the Hilton, efficient and charming. The other is equally charming white-robed Emirati airport safety officer Saleh Al Hosani, who is also a date farmer. I meet him in the date market and he tells me about (and lets me taste) the many different date varieties he produces.

Date farm; make a date for Abu Dhabi's Date Market

What makes Abu Dhabi interesting, for me, is not just what is here now - a dramatic skyline that changes from month to month and a splendid new Formula One car racing circuit - but what is planned for the future. And the future, in Abu Dhabi, is tomorrow, not next year. What was once a sleepy settlement of palm-frond huts and Bedouin encampments has, in the planning stage or underway, four museums, a performing arts center and 19 art pavilions designed by celebrated architects like Frank Gehry, Zaha Hadid and Jean Nouvel. Just one component of a $27 billion residential, office and hotel development planned for Saadiyat Island (Island of Happiness), the 670-acre cultural district's Performing Arts Centre will house five theatres – a music hall, concert hall, opera house, drama theatre and a flexible theatre with a combined seating capacity for 6,300.

New Performing Arts Centre

Abu Dhabi is now, more than ever, a gateway not just to the Arabian desert but to the world. Stopover for a day or two on your way to someplace else - remember, the FIFA Club World Cup UAE will be held here from 9-19 December. Or come just to see and admire this exciting desert metropolis.

A road less traveled

Suddenly, we hear the crack of fireworks down below, and these shimmering explosions light up the river and the rocks. White smoke from firecrackers drifts like a cloud up and over us. And then, just as suddenly, it’s over.

Festival time in Takayama

Most visitors to Japan linger in the big cities - Tokyo, Kyoto, Osaka - and for good reason. There’s so much to see and enjoy there. But on Japan’s main island of Honshu, there is a road less traveled, virtually from coast to coast, through thickly wooded mountains up to the northwestern shoreline. Here is Japan with a difference, and here are some unique experiences you will always remember.

So let me be your guide. We’ll start in one of those cities - our route is easily accessible from them all - and head towards Gifu prefecture, in central Honshu. Gujo Hachiman is out first stop, a small township at the foot of a mountain. We are here in early autumn, festival time, and the streets seem busier than usual.

Walk the streets of Gujo Hachiman or find a rickshaw man

One of this town’s major attractions is Iwasaki Sample showroom where you can watch demonstrations of wax food creation, so that’s where we head first. Lifelike wax food is an art form in Japan and you’ll be aware of it not long after you step off the plane and walk past a restaurant or into a shopping mall that specializes in food. All those plates cunningly displayed - all that food that looks ready to eat - is fake, and it mostly comes from Gujo Hachiman. A local, Takizou Iwasaki, started experimenting (by dropping hot wax from a candle onto water) in the early 1930s. First flowers, then food - a wax omelette. Since those early days his output and his business has boomed. Iwasaki has created not just an art form but an industry. Food samples for 80% of Japan’s restaurants are made here.

Walk around his demonstration/display facility and you’ll see how far this art has come. Loaves of bread, ice cream, glistening fish, slices of beef, shrimp, crab legs, spaghetti, cakes, fruits, salads - it’s all here. Such delicious deception. I learned how to make tempura shrimp and also a heart of iceberg lettuce. For the latter, just a pool of white wax, melding to a pool of green wax. The wax floats atop warm water, then it’s pulled under the water to form a sheet of green and white. I take this out, carefully scrunch it up into a ball, and finally add another sheet of green to what I already have in my hand. A fast dip into cold water, a sharp knife to cut through - and, magically, I have my lettuce. It looks just like the real thing, crisp and cool and ready for the salad bowl. You’ll be amazed (see video below)

Fresh mountain water cascades in channels down every street

Later we’ll explore the town on foot. Like many towns and villages in the region, particularly those situated close to mountains, Gujo Hachiman has a constant supply of fresh water which comes direct from the mountain to narrow but deep cement gutters; the water flows swiftly through these on both sides of each street. And the water is used on a daily basis by householders who live beside the streams. At set times, rice and vegetables are washed before cooking. At other times, clothing is washed and rinsed. The water is cool and clear and drinkable. So as you walk around the streets, past shrines, shops, gardens, restaurants and private homes, be sure to look where you walk. For a visitor like me used to signs warning that water is polluted, this is such a refreshing change. Pure, clean water. Rushing past you, everywhere you look!



On this day, as the evening draws in, more and more people fill the streets, especially down by the river. It’s a noisy river, splashing and frothing over rocks and pebbles. When darkness falls and the lamps come on all over town, hundreds of locals in colourful kimonos head down to the river to gather mostly by the bridge. Suddenly, we hear the crack of fireworks down below, and these shimmering explosions light up the river and the rocks. White smoke from firecrackers drifts like a cloud up and over us. And then, just as suddenly, it’s over. We move with the crowd up a lamplit alleyway to the town square, where local singers and musicians tune up and the people here to celebrate begin a slow, rhythmic dance. Everyone seems to know the traditional steps and arm movements. This dancing, along with the fireworks, is an integral part of the Gujo Odori festival, and if you are here, on a night like this, you’ll be transported to a different time and place, becoming a part, if only for an hour or so, of quintessential Japanese ritual. It’s great fun.

Gujo Hachiman is best explored on foot. To help you find your way around, there’s a Tourist Centre where you can purchase a two-day “visitor passport” which gives you unlimited access to many of the town’s tourist attractions, including museums, for one low fixed price, about half of what individual admissions would cost. A walk around town will take you about two hours, and you can always relax for a bit by the Yoshida River which flows through the town’s centre. There are many temples and water walkways and small museums including the Gujo Hachiman Hakurankan Museum which documents the town’s history and offers you everything you need to know about of the festival you’ve just witnessed.

We’re heading now for Takayama, north and east of Gujo Hachiman. It’s about an hour away by car, but you can follow this route by bus. This is an ancient town, with classic traditions, including a festival which brings ornately decorated floats onto the streets. And taking pride of place on the outskirts of Takayama is the Festival Floats Exhibition Hall which displays not only the floats but also larger than life copies, extraordinary in their beauty and complexity. Expensive, too. Each one cost hundreds of thousands of dollars to create, from the gold leaf ornamentation to the traditional figures which sit atop some of them. The museum is more than just a museum - it is a dramatic light show, using draperies and projections to add visual drama to your visit. Lifesize animatronic drummers stand silently watching you as you move from one float to another, then suddenly, surprise! they turn and bang on huge drums behind them. The exhibition showcases the town’s colourful pageantry in a way you’re not likely to forget. A visit takes about an hour. If you’re here in March, July or November, you might even get to see the floats during festival time, parading with much noise through the town.



Many Edo-era houses remain in Takayama, especially in the Sanmachi area. See these, along with the markets, which open in the early morning on a street by the river. Local farmers bring their produce here to sell. The Kusakabe Folk Museum is worth a visit, too. It’s an old Meiji merchant’s house. And if you have time, the Yoshijima Heritage House, originally a sake brewery, is a wooden wonder - especially its huge cedar sakabayashi (sake sign) which hangs under the eaves.

Not far from Takayama, try to see the Hida Folk Village, which offers the visitor a close up look at life as it was. Here you’ll explore thatched-roof houses and see traditional everyday tools along with crafts like lacquerwork, weaving and dyeing, straw objects and sashiko quilting. And try to see, if you are here in spring, the state-designated natural monument, the Garyu Cherry Tree. Some of its branches sweep close to the ground, looking a bit like a dragon’s wing (Garyu means “lying dragon” in Japanese). This extraordinary tree (Prunus pendula form. ascendens) is 1,100 years old, with branches 30m long and 20m high. In full bloom it is a breathtaking sight.

The Garyu Cherry Tree is an 1,100 year old national treasure

Tunnel vision is more than a medical condition in Japan. There are 743 expressway tunnels in Japan, 555 of them on the island of Honshu - with a combined total length of 522,732m. For anyone who has travelled within the country, along its expressways - and especially those going from one place to another through the mountains which form a north-south barrier across Honshu, these tunnels are an essential part of the country’s sophisticated infrastructure. The older, roundabout roads still exist, of course, but now you can get there quickly, so you have more time to look around. The route we’re taking now, to Kanazawa via the heritage listed mountain village of Shirakawago, follows the newly opened Tokai Hokuriku Expressway, with 21 tunnels, including a very long one, the Hida Tunnel. At 10,712 metres, it’s the second longest tunnel in Japan and it seems to go on forever. But as we speed through mountain after mountain, tunnel after tunnel, we really do save lots of time. And when we get to see Shirakawago, we appreciate the time saving those tunnels offer us. This village is very special.

Shirakawago is a small farming community located northwest of Takayama in the Shogawa River Valley, nestling in the shadow of the Hakusan Mountains which divide Gifu prefecture from Ishikawa prefecture, where we’ll soon be headed. It’s a typical mountain village, yet it’s also atypical, because it has preserved many of its historic wooden farmhouses built centuries ago - and by doing so, has become a World Heritage site. The best of these farmhouses are huge, rising some three or four storeys high, with massive wood beams and pillars supporting roofs of thick straw thatch, high and steep, like an inverted “v” and called, in Japanese, gassho-zukuri, “hands held together in prayerful attitude”. There’s a house here you can visit. Wander around its large open ground floor and up the stairs to see herbs and red peppers hanging to dry and silk worm equipment and spinning wheels. Silk production along with rice farming were (and are) mainstays of the local economy, augmented now by tourism. Shirakawago is no museum piece. It’s a living, breathing village.

So I wandered around, had a snack at a village restaurant, and eventually crossed the river via a long, narrow bridge to the other side, where tourist buses gather around a busy information centre. Shirakawago is a fascinating place, utterly peaceful, a visual dreamscape. You can stay if you want, but be warned: in mid-summer it’s hard to get accommodation because of visiting Japanese who arrive from bustling cities for the peace and quiet. And be warned, too, that when winter arrives, so does the snow - heaps and heaps of it!

Now it’s time for me to go to Kanazawa, which is the thriving capital of Ishikawa prefecture, located in the centre of Honshu’s western coast. We’ll pass through more tunnels, of course, until we leave the mountains. Largely ignored by Western tourists, the city is inland, but not far from the Sea of Japan, and it’s an important stop on our cultural corridor. When we reach Kanazawa, the first impression is of striking contemporary buildings, including the city’s major rail terminal, a dazzling architectural landmark.

Kanazawa’s rail terminal is a contemporary masterpiece

Kanazawa has been called the best-preserved major Edo-period city in the country - and fortunately it managed to escape Allied bombing during World War II. Amid all the modern buildings, tucked away in the centre of the city, the old samurai district has been lovingly looked after, with street after street of residences that once housed warriors. You can visit one of these, take off your shoes, walk about on tatami flooring and admire a secret garden with ponds filled with enormous koi. A samurai, in full military regalia, stands inside a glass case to greet you as you enter. And, in a different part of the city, the geisha district, with its distinctive wooden teahouses, offers you another, quite different view to the past. Just as elegant and as atmospheric as the one you’ll see in Kyoto.

Teahouses line the streets in Kanazawa’s geisha district

Kanazawa has something for everyone, from its vast museum of modern art to its world-famed Kenrokuen Gardens atop a hill overlooking the city, once the private preserve of the head of the powerful Maeda clan. But a smaller, more intimate garden also deserves your attention here. You’ll find it at Gyokusenen, home of the Nishida family, where you can sip green tea and admire an ancient garden. It rises up a small incline (there’s a busy urban street behind its rear walls, but you’d never know) and it is perfection, with its trees, shrubs, waterfalls, ponds and resident wading bird, which gives visitors a wary look as it slowly reconnoiters the water for tasty tidbits.

The Kenrokuen garden offers one of Japan’s most admired landscapes

The Nishida family garden: tranquility in the heart of the city

Kanazawa can get cold in winter and heavy snow, swept in by Siberian winds, is not uncommon here and along the coast. So best plan your visit to this part of the country when the weather allows you to see what you want to see in relative comfort. But remember: summer can be both hot and very humid. Choose a season that offers you either trees in bloom or falling leaves.

We’ll leave Kanazawa now, and head for the Noto Peninsula, which is not far away, facing the sea. A favourite of Japanese tourists escaping to the seaside, this area has something quite special - a ryokan where you can stay overnight, in a style you will not be expecting.

The classic Japanese ryokan recalls its Edo past, offering travelers a roadside inn of understated simplicity - you’ll get a small room featuring tatami matting (tatami is closely woven rice straw), a simple meal, a communal bath (often from a nearby hot spring) and a yukata (robe) to slip into after you’ve soaked in the warm water. In Japan today, Western style hotels dominate major city skylines, but you can find the less pretentious ryokans on the city’s periphery if you look carefully. Some are quite inexpensive, costing a visitor what you’d expect to pay at the local Y - as little as $40 a night. Others, in the mountains or by the sea, are larger and more expensive. All, however, try to maintain the traditional ryokan ambience - the simple style that separates them from Hilton-esque excesses.

Ryokan Kagaya looks out to sea

All except one, that is. It’s located in the Wakura Hot Springs area - which has been, for at least twelve hundred years, one of the best known resorts in the country. Local legend has it that the springs were discovered by a traveling priest who saw an injured crane bathing its wing in the warm spring water. Since those faraway days, Wakura has attracted many visitors and there are many places to stay, but the ryokan I discover, facing the bay and beyond to the sea, was in a class all its own. The Kagaya, with its 263 guest rooms and Vegas pizazz, puts on the ritz.

Vegas glitz lights up the Kagaya interior

When I arrived, young attendants in kimonos came racing out to form a welcoming guard of honour. They giggled and bowed and waved a greeting as I entered the ryokan. Inside Kagaya’s huge lobby, with its expansive water views, a young musician was entertaining visitors. A traditional Japanese melody? Not at all. She was playing Stephen Foster’s “Oh, Susannah”. In this instance, however, it wasn’t “a banjo on my knee”, but rather a 13-string koto, which sounds a bit like a harp. Not far from her, framed pictures of the Japanese Emperor visiting Kagaya spoke silently but eloquently of royal patronage.

The Kagaya greets a visitor in classic Japanese style

Kagaya ryokan does everything on the grand scale, from the guest rooms to the conference, banquet and entertainment facilities you find on four levels. There are several theatres, including one specially designed for Kabuki. There’s a razzle-dazzle disco, although, interestingly, I’m told Japanese guests rarely dance. There’s a huge conference/banquet room that can accommodate (by sliding back doors) up to 440 diners. When I peeped in, a banquet was being prepared for a large group from Taiwan. Small, short-legged tables, carefully spaced apart, were being set with painstaking care by robed attendants; each table had its small mat (sitting cross-legged is de rigeur) and on each mat, a fan. On another floor, a large room, like something out of Versailles, illuminated by natural light and glittering chandeliers, stands ready for wedding ceremonies. But a recent earthquake broke some glass, so weddings are out until the damage is repaired.

200 tables ready for a delegation from Taiwan

On the ryokan’s main floor, I wandered through a shopping arcade, exploring the small shops and stalls, admiring the beautifully packaged products. You can buy anything you want here, from designer labels to pastries created by an award-winning chef, who has his own museum in Wakura. And of course, the Onsen - hot springs experience - is close by. You can slip into your yukata, go to the springs, soak to your heart’s content and then return to your room for dinner.

The Kagaya features ryokan simplicity, 5-star comfort

Walk on through the lobby towards the sound of water and you’ll think you’re in a cruise ship. This is where the glitz is, as glass-walled elevators, lit up like Christmas trees, glide upwards into the ryokan’s atrium to the guest floors above, and this is where entertainment beckons - the night I was there, it included a Vegas style show - lots of legs, lots of feathers - in one room while, out by the fountains, a Mexican trio pounded away with La Bamba.

Later, after all the noise and glitter, I rode in one of those elevators up to my room to sleep. My room, or rather my suite, for that is what is was, had an entrance vestibule which led to my bathroom and a view to the darkening sea. On a different level, I had a large living room with separate dining area, including a table and four chairs (dinner is served, as it is in all ryokans, in your room, unless you make other arrangements) and a bedroom, its long narrow mirror covered with red fabric (bad luck and not good form to see yourself in a mirror). A comfy futon is put into this room before you sleep. Sliding wood and paper doors separate these rooms and, of course, tatami covers the floors. Guest rooms here are ryokan-traditional, but designed for five star comfort. Expect to pay from $250 and up - and up - depending on availability and the season you visit.

A fisherman’s wife displays last night’s catch

There’s lots to do and see here on the Noto Peninsula. Wajima is the main city, not far away, and you’ll enjoy its fascinating morning markets (wives of local fishermen have last night’s catch on display) and its noisy Taisai lantern festival, which is held in mid-September. Kiriko Lantern Museum showcases these magnificent floats - some 15m high - and portable paper shrines. Also worth discovering in Wajima is the local lacquerware showroom; this craft is a specialty of the area.

The Kiriko Lantern Museum. Festival nights are noisy and great fun

Wajima lacquerware is exquisite but better bring your wallet

My journey of discovery along Japan’s cultural corridor is now over. If you’d like to share my experience, you can get more information about these stopovers along the way, how to get from place to place, what to see, where to stay - and how much the experience will cost - by visiting Japan Tourism at www.jnto.org.au