Even the Japanese, the people who brought us both heated and tuneful toilets, a feline-themed bullet train (Hello, Kitty) and ubiquitous vending machines selling everything from fresh eggs to fresh flowers, admit that they can appear to be, well, a little fruity at times.

But the fruitiest place in all of Japan, if only in the literal sense, is Matsuyama, the capital of Ehime prefecture on Shikoku, the smallest of Japan’s four main islands.

Ehime, which occupies much of the island’s western side, as well as dozens of smaller islands scattered across the Seto Inland Sea, is renowned as Japan’s “citrus kingdom” – or nectar big thing, if you will. While this may not mean a huge amount to Westerners, citrus fruit has spiritual, as well as victual, meaning to the Japanese.

On the street leading to Matsuyama Castle, one of Ehime’s main attractions, there’s literally juice on tap. Outside a closed restaurant, there’s a stand where for 200 yen – less than $2 – passers-by can enjoy a cup of this proud prefecture’s delightful, if rather dense, mandarin-orange juice.

Of course, this being the trusting society that is Japan, there’s not a soul manning the stand. You simply take a cup, place the 200 yen in an honour box and open a polished chrome tap which delivers free-flowing juice. This is precisely the kind of quirkiness that led this frequent visitor to fall in love with Japan.

As it eventuates, even though Matsuyama Castle sits commandingly atop a steep hill, you don’t need to be juiced up to make it to the top. You can reach it by cable car or chairlift then stroll back down through forest almost as thick as the shiny tap’s citrus beverage.

Japan has become notorious for overtourism, but the reality is that aside from Tokyo, Kyoto and the nation’s ski resorts such as those on the islands of Hokkaido and Honshu, much of the country is under-visited.

Ehime, for example, had only about 500,000 international visitors in 2025 compared to the 10 million or so who crowded Kyoto in the same year.

Japan was projected to have 40 million international tourists in 2025. But in comparatively serene Matsuyama, with a population of 500,000, Western visitors are much less visible.

Furthermore, Chinese tourists, of which 7 million visit Japan annually, are conspicuous by their absence, after Beijing advised (read banned) its citizens from visiting the country after pro-Taiwan remarks uttered by Japanese Prime Minister Sanae Takaichi (tourism-weary Kyotoites can’t believe their luck, but the absence of the Chinese could cost Japan billions in lost revenue).

Back at Matsuyama Castle, there are panoramic views of the city and its surrounding mountains and sea from the hillside setting.

The castle was built in 1603 but, like most such landmarks in Japan, it has been reconstructed. Many of the nation’s 100 or so castles were destroyed or damaged by bombings in World War II, but Matsuyama’s version, protected as a National Historic Site since 1952, stands apart. It’s one of only a dozen to retain its original tenshu, or central, highest tower.

There’s much more to see beyond the castle in Matsuyama, such as the city’s unusual Ishiteji Temple, where fruit, of differing varieties, is again on show. Citrus, such as daidai (bitter orange), mikan (mandarin-orange) and kaki (persimmon) feature prominently during New Year’s celebrations, a period that coincides with my visit.

The fruit is used as a traditional decoration and as food symbolising prosperity and longevity, with garlanded bitter oranges suspended from the burnished timber entrances to the temples in Ishiteji.

Wandering through this religious compound, I come across two Japanese priests inside an open-sided temple performing a fire ritual typical of Oshogatsu (the Japanese new year) to foster in an “honourable first month” of the new year, on behalf of two parishioners.

As a means of heralding the new year and banishing the preceding one, the priests torch scrawled prayers in fires and chant in front of leaping flames that offer an eerie glow on this cold, overcast winter’s afternoon.

Heat plays its part elsewhere in Matsuyama, in the form of its therapeutic hot spring waters. It’s another important aspect of the city’s life, and the waters flow freely in its famous Dogo district, not far from Ishiteji, in the city’s north-east.

Dogo is home to Japan’s oldest onsen, or hot springs resort, dating to the late-19th century. But the history of its waters extends 3000 years, centred on the tale of a white heron, or egret, which according to a cherished legend, discovered the area’s hot springs due to its injured leg, which it bathed in the now fabled waters.

Miraculously, the bird’s slender leg healed and statues of white egrets adorn the turret of Dogo Onsen’s roof – from where a toki-daiko, or time drum, has been ceremoniously beaten three times daily since 1894.

In more contemporary times, Dogo Onsen is considered to be the inspiration for the hot spring complex in Spirited Away, the acclaimed 2001 Japanese animated film by the Tokyo-based Studio Ghibli. It became a global box office smash and earned a remarkable $US400 million ($567 million).

In the busy period between Christmas and New Year, large crowds have descended on this corner of Matsuyama, meaning there’s little chance of securing a booking in the public bath inside the historic onsen building. If there’s overtourism here the Japanese have only themselves to blame on this occasion.

However, for those like me, bashful about bathing amid a mass of strangers, this comes as a blessed relief.

Communal bathing was also something that Japanese emperors were spared, as one section of the bathhouse was dedicated to use by the royal family. The last emperor to have bathed here, in 1951, was Hirohito, who reigned from 1926 until his death in 1989.

It’s possible for foreigners to visit, though not bathe in, this section, which includes the actual bath in which the emperor soaked and the throne-like armchair in which he sat before and after immersion.

If you’re the fortunate guest, like me, of the elegant and luxurious Dogo Miyu onsen ryokan (hot springs inn), you can enjoy your own private onsen bathtub on the open-air balcony of your beautifully designed suite.

The bath overlooks the city with timber slats to protect your privacy from the adjoining hotels. For those gaijin (foreigners) who do dare to disrobe among others, there are separate male and female communal onsen on the top floor of Dogo Miyu.

In fact, it’s claimed that Japanese celebrities, wary of finding a naked fan beside them in the steamy public bathhouse – and not subject to Hirohito’s royal treatment – greatly favour the serene Dogo Miyu, largely due to its private in-room tubs.

But back to Matsuyama’s fruit fixation. Near the bathhouse is an arcade where you can sample each of the juices from a multitude of citrus varieties.

If ever there was a fruitful trip, free of the tourist throngs that have come to characterise Tokyo and Kyoto, this has been it. Spirit me away to Matsuyama.

THE DETAILS

FLY
Jetstar operates regular flights from Sydney and Melbourne to Osaka’s Kansai Airport, where you can connect by train to Matsuyama. Alternatively, fly from Australia direct to Tokyo’s Narita or Haneda Airport and take a connecting domestic flight to Matsuyama Airport in under two hours. See jetstar.com, qantas.com

TRAIN
If you’re flying in to Kansai Airport, take the airport train to Osaka Station and connect by train from there in 4½ hours to Matsuyama, via Okayama. This section is enjoyably scenic as the train crosses the Seto Inland Sea across the 13-kilometre double-decked Seto-Ohashi Bridge and then down the north-west coast of Shikoku to Ehime’s capital. See westjr.co.jp

STAY
Rooms at the contemporary Dogo Miyu onsen ryokan, a short walk from Matsuyama’s historic Dogo Onsen complex, are from $383 a night. See dogomiyu.jp

MORE
visitehimejapan.com/en/

The writer travelled as guest of Visit Ehime.