Surrounded by satoyama* rice paddies

Kodomari Fuji, established in August, 2023, stands in a village about 10 minutes’ drive from Kobuchizawa Station on the Chuo Honsen Line. The surrounding landscape seems to personify the kodomari [lit. a simple lodging] of the inn’s name. This agricultural enclave is nestled between the Yatsugatake and Southern Alps ranges and ringed by rice paddies. Mt Fuji peeks out from among the trees in the distance. While the view of the faraway mountains is majestic, I found the well-maintained rural landscape of the satoyama particularly beautiful.

*Satoyama: A Japanese term describing the semi-tended border zone between mountain foothills and arable flat land.

The inn was designed by architect and architectural historian Terunobu Fujimori, known for his distinctive style. The building is situated on slightly elevated land surrounded by rice paddies, so is easily recognizable as you approach. It is a very charming structure. This copper-shingled roof, its ridge planted with a line of trees, is a standard feature of Fujimori’s architecture, known as shibamune [lit. grass ridge]. This technique is based in the wisdom demonstrated in minka* in which sod is placed on a thatched ridge to solidify it, and when plants take root, they strengthen the roof. In this case, the ridge is deliberately planted with cherry trees.

*Minka: A general term for vernacular dwellings of the ancient, medieval, or premodern periods or rebuilt in the style of these periods.

Fujimori's shibamune is more emotive than logical, and its heartwarming and somewhat amusing appearance is quite inviting. Those who come upon it are likely tempted to stay a night or two. I myself was so inclined after just a glance at this photo. In spring, the roofs will be splendidly adorned with blossoming cherry trees, but even without flowers, the trees offer a warm welcome, waving to their visiting guests.

The interior is just as delightful as the exterior, with every detail showcasing artisans’ handiwork. The walls are gracefully finished plaster with visible traces of the trowel, which continue onto the whimsical shape of the fireplace and the organic curves of the staircase railings. The kitchen material is of a white similar to the plaster, creating a subtle contrast with the light wood materials of the floor, door, table, and chairs. All of the windows are square and fitted with lattices, causing a grid of light to fall into the rooms, changing with the passing of time.

The furniture is also unique. The chairs have rounded, mustard-colored seat cushions set into a curved wooden base, and on the backrest there are lumbar support protrusions reminiscent of mechanical massagers. The chair’s metal feet are padded with a white caulking material that creates in the seated guest the sensation of wearing fashionable shoes. Seated in these chairs, on a trapezoidal table, guests cook and eat ingredients prepared for them by the staff. The meal includes kogomi (ostrich fern), warabi (fiddlehead fern), rapeseed blossom, wasabi greens, kale, turnips, purple carrots, burdock root, and shiitake mushrooms. The pork shabu-shabu* is full of local flavors.

*Shabu, also known as shabu-shabu, is a Japanese hot pot dish featuring thinly sliced meat and vegetables boiled in water and served with dipping sauces. The term is onomatopoeic, derived from the sound – "swish swish" – made when the ingredients are stirred in the cooking pot. (Wikipedia)

Noriko Yamakoshi, a long-time admirer of Fujimori’s work, commissioned the architect in 2010. It took an astonishing 13 years to usher the project into reality. In 2012, inspired by Fujimori’s architecture, Yamakoshi relocated to Yatsugatake. In addition to managing Kodomari Fuji, Yamakoshi collaborates with her carpenter husband in an enterprise called Kurashimawari, in which Noriko creates clothing and food products, while her husband is in charge of living spaces. Kurashimawari’s granola and pancake mixes are served at breakfast at the inn, and the inn was built by her husband and his crew.

When seen from the windows, the blue sky is stunning. I had been of the opinion that in houses larger openings are better, but in this region with its cool climate, small windows are probably more effective in terms of insulation. In the end, I found the scenery truncated by the diminutive window quite nice. In the small-scale room on the second floor, the ceiling has a complex shape, which creates interesting shadows when reflecting the incoming light. The spaces created by Fujimori’s architecture seem peculiar and weird, but may in fact resonate with modern people’s emotions and experiences regarding nature.

Above all, the view of the rice fields from this house was absolutely wondrous, for it was the season of preparing the rice fields for planting; they were flooded to break up the soil; boxes of seedlings were carefully laid out along the sides of the fields and the paths between the paddies were neatly mowed. Clearly, the local people take great care in cultivating rice. This is not a tourist-facing farm scene created like the backdrop for a play. Apparently, the harvested rice will be dried in the traditional way, called hasagake, tied into bundles and hung on outdoor racks. I am filled with happiness just imagining the autumn scenery here.

2024.7.1