UCHIKO

When planning to travel to Ehime prefecture on Shikoku, the smallest of the four main islands of Japan, I spotted a little town renowned for its peaceful atmosphere and preserved architecture: Uchiko. Located about 30 kilometers from Matsuyama, this village experienced its golden age at the end of the Edo period and during the Meiji era, between the 17th and 19th centuries, thanks to the production of an exceptional natural wax (mokurō). A craft that fueled its growth.

Like other places I like to introduce here, Uchiko is also not a museum or dormitory town. Despite having a very well-preserved historical center, and even though the village suffers from an aging and declining population like most of the rural areas, it still feels like a lively and inhabited town that doesn’t exist solely for tourism. When wandering around, it always feels quiet and peaceful, like almost everywhere on Shikoku, where over-tourism doesn’t exist. Uchiko remains well-known mostly among local Japanese, but also Koreans since a direct flight connection between Seoul and Matsuyama was established a few years ago. The village is also along the route of many pilgrims doing the Shikoku Henro, the pilgrimage to 88 temples around the island, so it’s not rare to come across one on the way. I've been told by locals that the village is more lively on weekends, but during my weekday visit, it had an almost unreal tranquility, characteristic of the Japanese countryside.

The heart of the historical part of Uchiko is Yōkaichi, where about 50 merchant houses remain, dating mostly from the 19th century, a time when the wax trade brought prosperity to the village. One of the most impressive of these has been turned into a museum: the Kamihaga residence, which belonged to one of the wealthiest families of the region. In addition to its architectural beauty, it’s also a good way to understand how this famous wax was produced and what it was used for. Before lightbulbs, this wax was mainly used to make traditional candles, especially for temples, and these are still produced in the village today, handcrafted using the same techniques as before at Ōmori Warōsoku. The candles are still highly appreciated for their warm light.

One of the most iconic places in Uchiko is the Uchiko-za theater, built in 1916. Fallen into disuse, it was saved by the will of the local residents and fully restored in 1985. Unfortunately, it wasn’t possible to visit it during my stay as it was undergoing renovations, but it is usually still used for traditional performances such as kabuki. These current renovations aim to make the building more earthquake-resistant, which is definitely a good thing, but it won’t reopen until 2029. The interior is usually accessible even outside of performances, allowing visitors to discover the backstage area.

The use of natural materials : soil, wood, tiles, and the attention to aesthetics in the architecture reflect a certain refinement, inherited from a prosperous era, with the particular feature of pale yellow or ochre plaster walls instead of the usual white. This is due to the soil extracted near the village, which is used to make the plaster and earthen walls traditionally used in construction. It gives the walls a distinctive and unique color rarely seen elsewhere in Japan.  

Still today, those techniques and natural materials are used for the construction and renovation of these houses, with more modern tools.

While Uchiko stands out for the richness of its heritage, it’s also the overall atmosphere of the town that makes it so charming: quiet little cafés, artisan shops, green hills as a backdrop, and even its "modern" part, definitely retro and frozen in time. As is often the case in places I’m like to visit, there isn’t much to “do” in the classic touristic sense and that’s part of the appeal. Here, you take your time, you let yourself get lost in the narrow streets, and you enjoy the serenity of the village and the kindness of its people. Everyone I interacted with felt incredibly open and welcoming, easy to talk to, with whom you can speak freely about anything and nothing. Having lived in Tokyo for a while, it always feels a bit surreal to me. Just like for the few foreign travelers I met along the way, mostly pilgrims. Places like this tend to attract a different kind of visitor: more thoughtful, more passionate, often solo wanderers: not the kind who see travel as just product to consume like another. . 

Walking up through Yōkaichi, you can stop by Kōshō-ji, a small and quiet temple of the Soto Zen school, known for its reclining Buddha statue and open to visitors free of charge.

I stayed a couple of nights in a guesthouse called Uchikobare, run by someone truly passionate about local culture. The building itself is one of the old houses in the historic district, said to be over 170 years old and beautifully renovated with great taste and comfort. 

Beyond offering a place to stay, the owner is actively involved in revitalizing the local community, organizing small events, promoting local products, and also trying to save and bring back to life the Asahi-kan, an old cinema more than 100 years old, opened in 1923 and located just a few steps away. He dreams of reviving this abandoned theater into a creative and communal space. He occasionally hosts tours, screenings, and concerts there. Along with a few other guests, I was lucky to take part in one of his night time visits. The atmosphere was even more strange and timeless under the dim lights. The walls are covered in posters from films across the decades, some very old ones still painted by hand. There’s even an illustration of the building’s facade, drawn and gifted by a member of Studio Ghibli. 

Unfortunately, these kinds of initiatives are not enough to cover the high renovation and maintenance costs. The theater’s elderly owner can no longer afford the expenses, and with no investor stepping in, the Asahi-kan is now under threat of demolition. However, efforts like those of the Uchikobare owner give some hope that these unique, history-rich places can still be preserved and history-filled places that, I believe, leave few people unmoved.