Sometimes, the best places don’t announce themselves. They don’t beg for hashtags or photogenic marvels. They linger just off the usual tourist path and wait for you to arrive with no expectations. That’s how I found Nummazaki.
To be clear, most people know it by its more common name: Numazu. A coastal city in Japan’s Shizuoka Prefecture, pressed gently between the Pacific’s Suruga Bay and the foothills of Mount Fuji. But I’ve come to call it Nummazaki in the same spirit locals sometimes tweak a name out of affection or memory. And if you spend any time here, the nickname starts to feel right. Slightly idiosyncratic. Softly weathered. Like a jacket that’s been worn through every season.
The Geographical Highlights of Nummazaki
Let’s start with the obvious. Nummazaki is defined by water and framed by mountains. Suruga Bay rolls against its southeastern edge, stretching deep enough to hold its own kind of quiet, oceanic drama. It’s not showy the way Okinawa’s beaches are, but the scenery here carries a kind of emotional weight. The kind that settles in slowly. You start your walk along the waterfront. You catch the edge of pine groves along Senbon Matsubara. Then, between two rooftops, you catch it. Mount Fuji, enormous in the background.
There’s a moment when Fuji looks less like a mountain and more like a memory. It doesn’t dominate the skyline. It haunts it.
And that, I think, is the mood of Nummazaki. Present, but not pushing.
The Port That Feeds a City and Tells Its Story
Everything in Nummazaki seems to orbit the port. Not in a romanticized way, but in a practical, grounded, lived-in way. The smell of salt and engine oil hangs in the air before the sun comes up. By morning, it becomes the smell of grilled fish and miso. By evening, a pint of local craft beer from Baird Beer Fishmarket Taproom might join the mix.
What you notice first is motion. People work here. Boats go out and come in. There’s no curated narrative, no overly designed tourist trail. Just rows of shops and stalls at Numazu Minato Shinsenkan, where grandmothers talk you into trying grilled squid you didn’t know you were hungry for.
Locals say Numazu supplies nearly half of Japan’s horse mackerel. You can feel that. Not because of any statistics on a sign, but because it shows in the eyes of people sharpening knives at 6 a.m. It shows in the pride of shopkeepers who tell you what was caught that morning and how best to eat it.
Local Food Highlights in Nummazaki
| Dish | Description | Where to Try |
| Shirasu Don | A rice bowl topped with fresh whitebait, often raw or lightly boiled. | Numazu Port Market eateries and seaside shacks. |
| Turban Shell Stew (Sazae no Tsuboyaki) | Local sea snail cooked in its shell with soy, sake, and mirin. | Heda fishing village restaurants. |
| Grilled Horse Mackerel | Often served whole and lightly salted. A Numazu staple. | Baird Beer Taproom or Minato Shinsenkan food stalls. |
| Deep-Sea Fish Karaage | Bite-sized fried chunks of deep-sea catch, seasoned with spice blends. | Numazu Deep Sea Aquarium café or local izakayas. |
| Wasabi Ice Cream | A sweet-hot dessert made with Shizuoka-grown wasabi. | Found in novelty stalls along Senbon Matsubara. |
Stillness in the Imperial Villa
Just ten minutes from the port is something unexpected: Numazu Imperial Villa Memorial Park. It’s a place built for Emperor Meiji, but the space doesn’t feel imposing. It feels contemplative. Worn tatami mats. Garden paths traced with moss. It’s the kind of quiet that doesn’t ask for reverence, only attention.
You step through one of the rooms, and everything slows down. You notice the grain in the wood. You hear a crow in the pine trees. It’s less about “seeing” history and more about sharing space with it.
If you want to understand the inner tempo of Nummazaki, this is where you start.
The Deep and the Strange
Nummazaki’s Deep Sea Aquarium is one of those strange, specific places that doesn’t try to be broadly appealing. It doesn’t have dolphins. It doesn’t do tricks. What it offers instead are translucent creatures hauled from the pitch black depths of Suruga Bay, displayed like scientific poetry. It’s eerie, fascinating, and it’s completely fitting for a city that seems to appreciate the strangeness of things.
Across the way, View-O, a tsunami barrier with an observatory deck, gives you a full panoramic view of the coast and the city. It’s functional infrastructure doubling as a reminder. The sea is both neighbor and threat. Like most beautiful things, it comes with its own warnings.
Highlights of Nummazaki: The Anime That Gave the City a Second Life
Then there’s the anime. You don’t need to be a fan of Love Live! Sunshine!! to feel its presence. The city embraced its fictional fame not just as branding, but as an extension of local pride. Characters from the series are on manhole covers, shop windows, even in the background music at cafes.
This kind of cultural layering gives Nummazaki an unusual warmth. Locals seem to enjoy the oddity of it, treating the influx of anime tourism with a mix of humor and welcome. And for fans, the city becomes more than a setting. It becomes a kind of pilgrimage.
Forest Trails and Pine Shadows
If the port is the city’s heartbeat, then Senbon Matsubara is its lungs. A strip of pine forest lining the shore, where the sea peeks through the trees like a rumor. There’s no real trail here, just a sense of movement. You walk slowly. You hear gulls. You stop for a bento under the trees.
If you head west, you’ll hit the Kanuki Mountain trails. Short hikes that reward you with views of the entire city and bay. On clear days, the horizon looks painted in. On foggy ones, the city seems to float.
Heda: A Village That Time Dips Into
Further south is Heda, part of Nummazaki’s extended coastline. It’s quieter here, with fewer tourists, more fishing boats, and a coastline that folds into itself like origami. This was once a sailing school town. You still feel the history in the wooden buildings and in the way the harbor shapes the rhythm of the day.
Try the turban shell stew. Sit by the breakwater. Watch as the sky turns that soft indigo that only seems to exist near the ocean.
Cultural & Historical Sites Around Nummazaki
| Site | What to See | Notes |
| Numazu Imperial Villa Memorial Park | Meiji-era architecture, serene gardens, seasonal exhibits. | Quiet spot best explored early morning or late afternoon. |
| Numazu Deep Sea Aquarium | Creatures from Japan’s deepest bay, interactive deep-sea exhibits. | Great for families or curious solo travelers. |
| Kanuki Mountain Trail | Hiking paths, Fuji views, shaded forest stretches. | Moderate difficulty, stunning in autumn. |
| Nagahama Castle Ruins | Historic remains of a feudal stronghold, forested setting. | Lesser known, good for history buffs seeking solitude. |
| Anime Street Art (Love Live! Spots) | Character murals, themed manholes, fan installations. | Scattered across city—grab a local map at the station. |
More Than a Transit City
Most people don’t linger in Nummazaki. It’s often seen as a gateway to Hakone, to Mount Fuji, to Izu Peninsula. But I think that’s a mistake. This city doesn’t ask for your attention, but it quietly earns it.
There are no giant attractions. No mega malls. No “you must try” checklist. What it offers instead is presence. If you let it, the city will settle around you like a well-worn coat.
If You Go
| Time of Year | What to Expect |
| Spring (Mar–May) | Clear Fuji views, crisp mornings, fewer tourists. |
| Summer (Jun–Aug) | Seafood is at its richest, but humidity can be thick. |
| Autumn (Sep–Nov) | The best time for hiking and sunsets over the bay. |
| Winter (Dec–Feb) | Quiet streets, snow-topped Fuji, and deep-sea hot meals. |
Final Word
Nummazaki isn’t a checklist city. It’s a city you experience in fragments. A sip of miso at sunrise, the sound of boats cutting water, a man closing his shop with a nod. It’s a city that rewards you for slowing down. For listening. For noticing.
It’s not a place you brag about visiting. It’s a place you remember quietly, long after you’ve left.
And if you ever return, it will be waiting.
