This week, we’re venturing a bit further north to the Hokuriku coast. We spent time in Kanazawa few year ago, a city that manages to master the rare art of historical preservation while nurturing a remarkably sharp, contemporary edge. It’s a destination that feels grounded, intentional, and deeply respectful of its roots, forcing you to slow down and pay attention to the details that often get lost in the noise of larger Japanese cities.
Here is what resonated with us.
01 / THE PULSE - the pace of tradition
The unwritten rule of seasoned travelers is to avoid anything that feels remotely like a cultural souvenir. Renting a kimono or yukata usually falls squarely into that category, often feeling performative or detached from the actual environment. But my perspective shifted entirely while walking through the shaded, moss-covered paths of Kenroku-en garden.
Seeing this couple, their backs to me, moving with a natural, unhurried pace against the profound, layered green backdrop of the forest, felt less like a costume and more like a conscious choice to synchronize with the landscape. The wooden geta clicking on the gravel, the structured drape of the heavy fabric forcing a shorter, more deliberate stride, it completely alters your sensory experience of the space.
Perhaps stepping into the traditional uniform isn't about the outward aesthetic; it’s a form of internal meditation, a practical tool to slow your modern body down to the slow, enduring rhythm of history.
02 / THE BREW - Townsfolk coffee, Kanazawa
For a compact city of just over 400,000 people, Kanazawa’s specialty coffee culture is sophisticated and shockingly dense. It’s not just a trend; it feels like an organic extension of the city's obsession with craft and hospitality. Yet, even in this crowded and high-caliber scene, Townsfolk Coffee stands out as a definitive voice in modern, textured minimalism.
The shop itself is a physical manifestation of a clean aesthetic: a pristine white facade, warm wood accents, and a massive floor-to-ceiling window that lets the soft, diffuse northern light paint the space. They serve meticulously sourced and roasted beans (their filter coffee menu is a masterclass), but what truly elevates the experience is the tactile connection to the city's artisanal heritage.
Your brew arrives in stunning, heavy, handmade ceramic cup, often collaborations with local potiers or designers, that feel incredibly satisfying in the hand. I found it so compelling that I picked up several for my own setup. And for those in Tokyo, they have recently, and expertly, translated this precise vibe to a stunning new space in the refined Jiyugaoka neighborhood.
03 / THE SPIN - Kings of Convenience – Declaration of Dependence
Summer travel, especially when exploring more tranquil regions, demands a soundtrack that is acoustic, intimate, and seemingly effortless. While this album has been a fixture in my vinyl collection for years, spinning it again recently during a slow moment on holiday reminded me why it’s an absolute staple of the "chill-folk" canon.
It’s an album that rewards attentive listening but never demands it. The intricate, interlocking nylon-string guitar work of Erlend Øye and Eirik Glambek Bøe is simply flawless, creating a warm, organic texture that pairs perfectly with a slow morning coffee or a quiet moment of reflection in the afternoon sun.
It’s a banger because it captures a specific feeling: the quiet, deeply reassuring certainty of connection. Timeless and perfect.
04 / THE BITE - Akiyoshi, Kanazawa
We ended up eating at Akiyoshi three times during our short visit. That single fact probably tells you all you need to know, but let me try to convey the sensory overload.
Located on the same charming, historic street as Townsfolk Coffee, right where a narrow canal cuts through the neighborhood, providing a perfect contemplative backdrop, this place is the exact antithesis of a quiet, polite dining experience. The moment you enter, you’re hit by a wall of energy.
The staff literally screams orders across the counter, the massive charcoal grill is constantly roaring and smoking, and the general vibe is ecstatic chaos.
The menu is a masterclass in variety and simple execution: perfect, smoky yakitori skewers, incredibly crisp yaki onigiri (rice balls), and surprisingly, the fries were fantastic, big, golden, and substantial. It’s loud, raw, completely unpretentious, and deeply satisfying.
05 / THE THOUGHT - The Blueprint of a livable city
Kanazawa has a curious and complex spatial identity. When you first arrive at the massive, modern station and see the high-rise buildings, it initially feels grander, sharper, and perhaps even more vertical than Kyoto, which can sometimes feel sprawling and decentralized.
Yet, within ten minutes of walking, you realize it is fundamentally a city on a human scale. Everything feels concentrated, approachable, and interconnected. It possesses that specific kind of dynamism found in Japanese provincial hubs: fueled by highly curated tourism, but remaining anchored by a vibrant, everyday local life.
It made me reflect on what truly makes a city feel livable and intentional. You don't need a sprawling, endless metropolis to feel a powerful urban pulse. When density is met with deep cultural roots and thoughtful design, a small provincial city can offer a deeper, more satisfying experience than any bustling mega-city.
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And if you want to go for a coffee walk with me to discover why I love the coffee scene in Japan so much, let’s dive into my new video!
Stay grounded, and see you next week.
-Nicolas
