Matsue is the largest city of San’in, literally the “shady side of the mountains,” and fittingly, the city is mysterious. As the capital of Shimane, a sparsely populated prefecture on the Sea of Japan coast, it is not unknown, but it is not where crowds tend to gather. Yet the city once served as the political heart of the ancient Izumo civilization and later flourished as a castle town in the samurai era.
Experiencing Matsue Through Stories
During my recent visit, what drew me in was not a single landmark but the way stories and culture overlapped with daily scenes. I joined a daytime cycling tour and a night walk focused on ghost stories. The guides often mixed spooky local folklore and personal memories that began with “when I was a kid.” These stories were not pieces of literature to be filed away. They were lived experiences.
Locals excitedly talked about how this region is key to understanding Japan’s still mysterious ancient past. The area was home to early Izumo civilizations that predate the clearer outlines of political power most people learn in school here.
This year, Matsue has also stepped into the spotlight domestically. NHK’s current asadora (morning drama), The Ghost Writer’s Wife, follows a heroine based on Setsu Koizumi, the wife of Lafcadio Hearn, and sets much of its story in the city.
For many, Matsue may have been a side trip from Izumo Taisha. Spend time here and it becomes clear that it is much more. Here is my personal guide to what to expect in the city of Matsue.
Castle Town and City of Water
Matsue is what is called a jokamachi, often translated as a castle town, literally “town beneath the castle.” In the era of samurai-led military governments, the castle served as the political and administrative center of the Matsue Domain. Especially during the Edo period, Matsue became a vibrant commercial center of the San’in region. In practice, it functioned almost like a small country, with the jokamachi as its capital. What we now see as a city stretched across lakes, rivers and coastline was, for people then, an entire world contained around the castle.
Matsue Castle is one of the few original wooden keeps remaining in Japan. The country once had thousands of castles, but by the 1940s, only about twenty survived. Seven of those were later destroyed during the US air raids, making Matsue one of the rare well-preserved examples. Built in 1607, it set the structure of the city that still exists today, with streets extending outward toward merchants’ quarters, samurai residences, shrines and temples.
Photo by Takeshi Dylan Sadachi
Temples and shrines continue to be scattered across the city, some monumental, others tucked between residential lanes. The best way to experience the old jokamachi layout is on foot and by bicycle. Matsue is too large to cover entirely on foot, but a car would limit the spontaneity of stopping at small shops or wandering into a temple precinct. Cycling gives the right balance for exploring both the compact center and the quieter edges of the city. (Rental bikes and English-speaking cycle tours are available.)
The moat around Matsue Castle remains well-preserved. It flows into the outer moat of the Kyogawa River and then the Ohashi River, which divides the city. These waterways lead to the brackish lakes, Lake Shinji to the west and Lake Nakaumi to the east, before reaching the Sea of Japan. This network shapes Matsue’s nickname, the City of Water.
Changing Landscapes Beyond the Castle
That geography reveals several different faces of the city. Leaving the center of the castle town, the landscape shifts. To the east lies Mihonoseki, a port district with narrow alleys, fishing boats and small inns overlooking the harbor. In the middle of Lake Nakaumi, Daikonjima, a volcanic island known for its peonies and ginseng, rises from the water. Travel north and the scenery changes again, opening onto pristine beaches along the Sea of Japan.
The jokamachi was once the center of an entire domain, so it makes sense that Matsue still feels like a self-contained world of contrasting landscapes, all connected by water.
Lafcadio and Setsu’s Matsue
Matsue’s connection to Lafcadio Hearn feels both arbitrary and fateful. He arrived as an English teacher and met Setsu Koizumi (then Setsuko), a woman from a samurai family that had fallen on hard times. Recently divorced and working as a maid for Hearn, she entered his life at a moment when he was still trying to understand Japan. Her interests in literature and the stories she knew from growing up in Matsue shaped the direction of his work. The city’s abundance of folktales and ghost stories, combined with Setsu’s knowledge, became the foundation for what later appeared in Kwaidan.
The Lafcadio Hearn Memorial Museum sits along the moat near the castle, next to a row of former samurai residences. It stands directly beside Hearn’s old home, making it possible to move between his living space and the exhibits that contextualize it. The museum opened eighty-two years ago and is now directed by Bon Koizumi, the great-grandson of Hearn and Setsu. His wife, Shoko Koizumi, works as the coordinator.
Seeing the Garden Through Hearn’s Eyes
The museum presents not only Hearn’s life story but also the ideas, encounters and pieces of local culture that informed his writing. His former residence next door was once a samurai house of the Matsue Domain, and its location near the castle shows how prominent the neighborhood once was. Hearn once loved the garden that stretches beyond the tatami rooms, framing it like a painting. The garden remains much as it was, and it is easy to imagine what Hearn and Setsu saw from those rooms.
When I visited, I had the chance to meet Shoko at the residence. She produces exhibitions and researches the couple’s lives, tracing their history from Lefkada and Dublin to Cincinnati and New Orleans. Hearing her stories provided a more human view of Hearn and Setsu. They communicated through what she called “Hearn language,” a mix of basic Japanese vocabulary with English syntax and no verb conjugation. Through this improvised system, Setsu provided him with material for his writing while they moved from place to place.
Hearn’s name is often listed among the literary figures of Meiji Japan, and he is remembered as Yakumo Koizumi. I had not expected to learn that his Japanese remained limited and that Setsu’s support was essential to his work. Thinking of them as a couple raising three children, collaborating in daily life as much as in literature, made their story feel immediate rather than distant. With the current asadora loosely based on their lives, their partnership is receiving new attention, shifting the focus from Hearn alone to the life they built together in Matsue.
Outside of the museum, Matsue is full of places that help you imagine his life. I stayed in Mihonoseki, the old port town where Hearn, Setsu and their child spent summers by the sea. During the cycling tour, we stopped at Kissendo Yamaguchi Pharmacy, founded in 1772. The shop still sells traditional medicine along with antique goods and local crafts. The owner told me that Hearn regularly came here to buy beer and sweets, his small evening indulgence. Details like this made the past feel woven into the present. In Matsue, the places Hearn and Setsu once knew are not cordoned off as heritage sites. They remain part of the city’s everyday movement, quietly linked to the stories that continue to circulate.
Stories That Shape the City
Like the pharmacy, the city is full of small stories, which made Matsue feel more personal to me. The guides did not just recite histories of the temple or show us statues of famous people. They often shared the stories that are between recorded history and the kind of things children grow up hearing in their own districts.
As we crossed the river on the Matsue Ohashi Bridge, the guide pointed to the water and explained how the currents shift direction with the tide. For centuries, crossings here were difficult. The bridge collapsed repeatedly, and people began to say the bridge would only stand if a human sacrifice was buried in its foundations. The rule, as the story goes, was that the first person to cross wearing hakama without side slits would be chosen. One morning, an unlucky man named Gensuke crossed the new bridge in such hakama and was taken as the sacrifice.
Some say Gensuke’s wife tried to tell him to stay for a second cup of tea that morning, which would have delayed him just long enough to escape his fate. Because of this, locals still say drinking only one cup of tea before heading out is unlucky. Interestingly, some locals told me this story was about another bridge when I mentioned what I had heard, while others confirmed it was this bridge, which adds another layer of complexity to how orally transmitted stories evolve.
The current Matsue Ohashi was constructed in 1937. During the work, an engineer died after falling into the foundation, remembered as a second sacrifice tied to the bridge. Even crossing a river can reveal a chilling story in this mysterious city.
We also visited Gesshoji, Hearn’s favorite temple, known for its mossy paths and the large turtle-shaped dragon statue that greets visitors. There were many stories tied to this temple as well, but there are far too many places and tales to list without turning this article into a book of ghost stories. I hope you get to hear these stories for yourself.
While cycling earlier that afternoon, I passed a residential street where neighbors were hanging ropes and paper ornaments between houses, creating what looked like a spiderweb as they prepared for a festival. Later, during the ghost tour night walk, I heard drums echoing through the alleys as another district practiced for a parade where local children pulled a large taiko drum across the city. I had not planned my visit around any event, yet moments like these kept appearing without warning.
Somehow, the city felt like an RPG game. Each stop seemed to spark its own small storyline, waiting for someone to notice. While people went about their everyday lives, I kept encountering local cultural events. The history and folk stories that residents shared with me made it an experience that felt both immersive and slightly surreal.
South of the City, Into Older Worlds
It was time to leave the castle area and travel a little south of central Matsue. Though now mainly residential and agricultural, the area was once the political center of an ancient civilization. Ancient Izumo (Kodai Izumo) flourished before the Yamato Kingship established itself as the dominant power over the Japanese islands. The Yamato Kingship, usually described as Japan’s first central government, emerged around the second to fourth century and eventually developed into the imperial court we know today. Even after that shift, the Izumo region held a special status and both the Kojiki and Nihon Shoki reference Izumo. Additionally, the Izumo Fudoki is the only nearly-complete surviving Fudoki (provincial records compiled in the Nara period for submission to the central government), which makes the area significant both historically and for archaeological research.
Archaeological sites are scattered throughout the wider Izumo area, especially kofun (ancient burial mounds). Some early Yayoi period kofun have revealed artifacts linked to Lelang, a Han dynasty administrative region on the Korean Peninsula, suggesting contact across the sea much earlier than many expect.
One of the stories recorded in the Izumo Fudoki is “the Legend of Kunibiki,” which describes how the region was formed. A deity named Yatsukamizu-omizunu-no-Mikoto decided that Izumo was too small and broke off large pieces of land across the sea with a massive spade. This land across the sea was called Shiragi, the Japanese name for Silla, an ancient Korean kingdom. The story is myth, not geology, but its imagery also hints at movement and exchange between Izumo and the continent.
Museums such as Yakumotatsu Fudoki-no-Oka present archaeological discoveries that remain partly mysterious and might suggest the existence of organized political structures in Japan, earlier than what is commonly taught in textbooks.
Nearby stands Kamosu Shrine, the oldest surviving example of the taisha-zukuri shrine style. The current main hall was rebuilt in 1583, based on an even older structure, preserving an early Shinto architecture. Behind the austere shrine, now partly within a high school’s grounds, lies an Iwakura, a sacred rock or a mount of rocks. This one is mysteriously known by several names, including Sukune-iwa, Ama-no-iwakura and Izumo-no-okami. Some link it to Nomi no Sukune, the legendary founder of sumo, saying the rock mound was where he practiced. Others claim it is the tomb of a family that ruled the area in ancient times. It appears under different names, each pointing to a different origin, and the details remain unclear, which is part of its appeal.
Further east, Yomotsu Hirasaka marks the boundary between this world and Yomi, the land of the dead. Many people know the concept of Yomi mentioned in the Kojiki, but not many know where the entrance is believed to be.
South of Matsue offers ancient sites that feel more mysterious than the historical places I have visited elsewhere. Many are still being researched further, and the stories around them are far from settled. The sites are both austere and intriguing. It feels like witnessing something still unfolding, making you hope future research will uncover more.
Craft and Everyday Life
After spending time among the grand and mysterious world of ancient history, I wanted to return to the more everyday side of Matsue. Back in the castle town, browsing shops for souvenirs felt like the right shift. Matsue’s long history also means the city holds many craft traditions (mingei).
In the city center, Nagaoka Meisando is a long-established shop known among locals for its careful curation of pottery, prints and paper crafts (washi). The owner’s close relationships with makers show how deeply the shop is connected to Japan’s mingei history.
Pottery is another long-rooted tradition in the area. I was surprised to see the name Bernard Leach appear in the context of Matsue’s pottery scene. Often described as the father of British studio pottery, he visited Japan repeatedly and was strongly influenced by Japanese kilns, aesthetics and ideas. His involvement with the mingei movement created a mutual exchange: he was primarily shaped by Japan, but in the process, his presence also influenced a small number of kilns in this region. Yumachigama, founded in 1922, is one of the places where this dialogue took form, and it continues to produce pieces shaped by that early connection.
When I visited Nagaoka Meisando, a papier-mâché tiger caught my eye. I learned that tiger figures have long been displayed in the Matsue area as protective charms for Boys’ Day in May, made with Izumo washi. Unlike the koi-shaped streamers I grew up seeing, these tigers once stood in many households as talismans. The motif came from China and took root only in certain pockets of Japan, including Matsue, Kurashiki in Okayama and Mitoyo in Kagawa, each developing its own variation. Izumo’s tigers, with blue facial markings and vivid red mouths, looked both playful and slightly otherworldly. Production has declined, and craftspeople who can make them are becoming harder to find.
Eating Matsue
For many people, including myself, shijimi (clams) harvested from Lake Shinji are the best-known meibutsu (specialty item) from Matsue. With two brackish lakes and the Sea of Japan at its edge, these Japanese basket clams and other seafood are, of course, abundant. But that is only part of the picture. Near Matsue Castle, I had sukiyaki (Japanese hotpot) made with local Shimane wagyu at Ronjin, a restaurant with a gently nostalgic Taisho-era atmosphere.
Photo from Wirestock
The region also prides itself on sake. Because of its long Shinto traditions, sake brewing has particularly deep roots here. Well-known names like Rihaku in Matsue offer styles with pronounced umami, while Gassan in nearby Yasugi produces more floral expressions. Ishihara Liquor Store is a good place to explore the local sake labels. Opened in 1926 as a liquor store, it now operates as a hip shop-and-bar focused on sake and fermented products. You can taste by the cup or choose bottles to bring home.
The city is also known for tea and wagashi (Japanese sweets). Matsue’s tea culture here owes much to Matsudaira Harusato (Fumai-Ko), the seventh lord of the Matsue domain. He established his own school of tea that placed less emphasis on rigid formality, making it more accessible to citizens. Even today, many households in Matsue keep matcha and wagashi as part of daily life rather than reserving them for special ceremonial occasions. At Nakamura Tea Stall, founded in 1884 as a branch of Uji’s prestigious Nakamura Tokichi, you can even find matcha made from tea grown locally in Shimane, which is rare. If you prefer coffee to start the day, check out Imagine Coffee. Housed in a renovated old building, it operates as a roastery and café. In 2025, it won first place at the World Winners of Coffee Roasting Championship, a competition that began in Korea.
On another day, near the Kyobashi River, I noticed an Irish restaurant with an intriguing name: Kyojin Stewhouse, meaning Giant’s Stewhouse. I went in partly out of curiosity. Even in Tokyo, Irish establishments are usually pubs, not restaurants centered on stew. It may not be typical Shimane food, but I wanted to try it. More than a century after the Irish writer Lafcadio Hearn began his life in Japan here in Matsue, an Irish home kitchen now exists in the same city. The stew was homely and comforting, cooked slowly with Guinness and served with soda bread.
When you meet the friendly owner, Alan Fisher, you understand the restaurant’s name immediately. Listening to him chat with regulars from Matsue, I found myself thinking how people in a regional city of a rural prefecture might now be more familiar with Irish home cooking than people in larger cosmopolitan cities. Culture travels and settles in ways that do not always follow scale or logic. Before boarding my train, I saw that his stews were also sold as frozen take-home items at the station souvenir shop, joining the lineup of meibutsu people can bring home from Matsue.
From the Shade
Matsue sits in the San’in region, the “shaded” side of the mountains, contrasted with the sunnier San’yo side, home to Hiroshima and Okayama. I don’t like calling places “hidden gems,” but Matsue definitely is one. Shimane as a whole is not a busy destination, and those who visit often head straight for Izumo Taisha in the adjacent Izumo City, one of Japan’s most important shrines. Yet the capital of this world of “shade” is exciting in its own way.
Its mysteriousness and the still-uncovered parts of its history feel almost on brand for a place defined by shadow. It reminded me of Junichiro Tanizaki’s In Praise of Shadows, which reflects on how traditional Japanese aesthetics find beauty in dim light, in contrast to the sharp brightness of modernity. Matsue works like that. It does not insist on your gaze or demand a spotlight. It carries centuries of stories that would exist even without being broadcast outward. Perhaps that self-contained atmosphere is exactly what Lafcadio Hearn fell in love with in the first place.
Immerse yourself in Japan’s “Pagan” Region. Take a look at our article on Visiting San’in.
