The first thing I noticed as I stepped off the train in Kanazawa was the hypermodernity of its railway station, which is covered by a glittering glass dome. The second thing I noticed was the utter absence of foreign visitors. This was a contrast from the few days I had just spent in Kyoto, which is one of my favorite Japanese cities but this time seemed to be overrun with Western tourists in rented 1)kimonos mugging for the smartphones on the ends of their selfie-sticks.
Kanazawa, for the moment, anyway, is a refreshingly low-key affair. This 16th-century castle town of some 460,000 on Japan’s west coast has remained blissfully off the radar of most overseas travelers, but has long been a favorite getaway for the Japanese.
Designated a 2)UNESCO City of Crafts and Folk Art, Kanazawa has serious artistic credibility and is a center for artisans who produce 3)lacquer ware, textiles and other crafts using traditional techniques. None of these is more identified with Kanazawa than gold leaf. True to the city’s name, which means golden marsh, Kanazawa produces virtually all the gold leaf made in Japan, where they like to cover everything from monuments to food with the stuff.
At Hakuza Honten, a local store that specializes in all things gilded, I watched customers shop for 4)varnished jewelry cases and bowls that cost many thousands of dollars, or souvenirs that they traditionally bring home for friends and co-workers. These shiny goodies glittered plenty, but what really caught my eye was the replica of a 16th-century 5)shogun’s traveling tearoom that was covered in so much gold leaf it literally glowed behind its protective glass wall.

Even more captivating than the gold-covered finery was one of the store’s craftsmen, 66-year-old Shigeyo Aoshima, whom I watched hammer sheets of gold pressed between 6)parchment into gold leaf. When he was finished, the gold leaf was a thousand times thinner than an average piece of paper and dissolved to glitter when rubbed between his fingers. When I asked Mr. Aoshima how long he had practiced to become a master craftsman his reply was quintessentially Japanese: “You never stop training,” he said.
Having been spared by earthquakes and tsunamis and having escaped the World War II air raids that 7)decimated so many Japanese cities, Kanazawa is a living museum of sorts, and one of the best-preserved cities in the nation. With its clay-walled, 8)shingle-roofed homes and 9)sinewy trees, the Nagamachi quarter looks just as it must have when samurai warriors lived here from the 16th to 19th centuries.

The neighborhood was so sleepy that I began to wonder if I had wandered into a sort of Japanese 10)Colonial Williamsburg after closing time. The stone-paved lanes were eerily silent except for an occasional 11)gurgling sound from one of the canals, which were once used to transport goods but are so pristine it’s hard to believe they were ever anything but decorative. I was brought back to the present when a woman appeared, seemingly 12)out of thin air, and slid open a large wooden door that revealed a parking lot and half a dozen cars. After steering her electric vehicle into the narrow alleyway,she closed the gate, once again hiding any trace of the 21st century.
Higashi Chaya, another historic area on the other side of the city, looks like a 13)sound stage for a 19th-century 14)costume drama.
But the biggest draw for Higashi Chaya are the 15)geishas who work here. During the day, the kimono-clad ladies serve sweets and thick green tea in the courtyards of teahouses; at night, these classically trained performers put on elaborate kimonos, paint their faces white and entertain deep-pocketed patrons with drinking games and witty 16)banter over elaborate meals.
The city’s symbolic and topographic crown is the 28-acre Kenrokuen garden, created and maintained for the enjoyment of the feudal lords who lived in the neighboring castle. Typical of Japanese gardens, Kenrokuen is intersected with winding lanes and streams that flow under arched footbridges. Gnarly pine trees 17)camouflage classical pagodas, which provide meditative spots to rest beside the flower-lined ponds.

The park embodies wabi-sabi, the Japanese aesthetic that celebrates 18)transiency and imperfection. While grand European gardens—like those at Versailles—seem to have been designed with immortality in mind, the creators of Japanese gardens such as Kenrokuen were reaching for an earthly manifestation of the 19)ephemeral. In spring it blushes with canopies of pink cherry blossoms; in summer it’s awash in blood-red azaleas. In winter, to protect the tree limbs from breaking under heavy snows, gardeners tie lengths of rope to the branches and attach them to bamboo poles that run along the trunks, making the trees look like giant 20)chandeliers. From season to season, the very shape of Kenrokuen changes.
Just down the hill from the timelessness of Kenrokuen is the 21)unabashedly modern 21st Century Museum of Contemporary Art, a 22)stark, circular structure built with boatloads of glass, to reflect its surroundings rather than compete with them.
I knew Kanazawa was a city with one foot planted proudly in its past. What I realized at the museum is that its other foot is striding into the future almost as swiftly as the bullet trains now rolling into its station. But the best parts of Kanazawa have remained unchanged for centuries. And I have little doubt they’ll be around for centuries more.

當我走下到達金澤的火車時,我首先注意到的是金澤火車站的超現代設計,那閃閃發亮的玻璃穹頂。接著,我發現這里完全看不到外國游客,這與我前陣子在京都看到的情況形成鮮明的對比。京都是我最為喜愛的日本城市之一,但現在那里似乎滿街都是穿著租來的和服,舉著自拍桿,對著智能手機做各種表情拍照的外國游客。
但無論如何,就目前而言,金澤仍是一座低調而使人耳目一新的城市。金澤位于日本的西岸,人口約為46萬,這座始建于16世紀的城堡小鎮至今尚未受到海外游客的矚目,但卻一直是日本人非常喜愛的度假地點。
金澤被聯合國教科文組織評為“手工藝與民間藝術之都”,具有極高的藝術價值,是傳統工匠制作漆器、紡織物以及其他手工藝品的中心。但其中最能代表金澤的要數金箔。與其名字相符,金澤(意為金色的沼澤)幾乎出產了日本所有的金箔。在日本,人們喜歡用金箔裝點一切,從紀念碑到食物。
我在箔座本店(當地一間專賣鍍金飾品的商店)看到許多顧客前來購買價值數千美元的鍍金珠寶盒和碗,或者是一些他們習慣給朋友和同事帶回去的紀念品。這些閃亮的小玩意兒都非常耀眼,但真正吸引我眼球的是16世紀一位幕府將軍的隨行茶室復制品,上面覆蓋著無數金箔,透過展示柜的安全玻璃,那套件真的金光燦燦。
比這件被金箔所覆蓋的藝術品更具吸引力的是這間店的一位工匠,66歲的青島茂,我看著他把壓在羊皮紙間的金片錘成金箔。……