A Year at Aoba-an

A Year at Aoba-an 2025 — 高浜町・青郷（Seikyo）

This is a small end-of-year thank-you to everyone who welcomed me, helped me, and made this year feel like I truly belong here.

It began, as many good things do, with a cat.

Sembei was the first to greet me — curious, cautious, and quietly loyal. From that first friendship, others followed: Kawai-san, Michika-san, and the Tanaka family, with whom I shared an unforgettable bōnenkai — warmth, laughter, and food so good it felt like a blessing.

This year, Yamamoto Shachō and the team at Yamaso offered steady guidance and practical help as I prepared Aoba-an to open as a minpaku — from the big decisions down to the many small details that turn a house into a welcoming home. Along the way, we hosted the Doshisha gasshuku, a neighborhood yoga and lunch, and many spontaneous BBQs and visits from students and neighbors.

One of the greatest highlights was the festival — hosting the mura-mawari, even in the rain. Spirits stayed high. The performances, the visitors, and the shared energy confirmed something important: Aoba-an is not just a house near the sea. It is part of the community.

I swam, dove, and SUP’d these waters, and fell in love — again and again — with the sunrises and sunsets over the rooftops of 青郷 (Seikyo). I attended sports day and Obon, and although I didn’t win the karaoke competition this year… I’m aiming to next year.

In quieter hours, I wrote stories about these walks and encounters — about the life I’m learning here: Sembei and Ohagi the cats; Daisan, who keeps me grounded; and Tanu, the garden tanuki who teases me whenever I rush or forget myself. The painting here was created by Takako-san, who has begun illustrating some of my writings — a gift I will carry for a long time.

As winter settles in, Kanda-san is overseeing the installation of the Kura’s maki stove, and we are shaping the design for a small craft café — the future heart of Kura Campus: a simple place to learn, create, and share stories.

To everyone I met this year — neighbors, artisans, festival families, friends, students, and local businesses — thank you for your kindness, humor, patience, and trust. And to those I haven’t met yet: please visit in 2026. If you’re nearby, feel free to message me and stop in for a coffee.

I also want to thank everyone who welcomed Fumiha-san, who has helped with many projects. Your kindness to her means a great deal. She will be back again this January.

I’m healthy, grateful, and ready to keep moving in 2026.

Here’s to another year by the sea —

more light, more laughter, and more life together.

— Todd Newfield

青葉庵（Aoba-an）／高浜町
Aoba-an.com ・ Takahama.com

And to Daisan, my guide; to Senbei and Ohagi, my watchful neighbors; and to Tanu the tanuki — who lives both in spirit and, I suspect, in me — thank you.

Echoes

And then there are the echoes — small words left behind, still lingering, still brightening the house.

“I didn’t realize how tired I was until I arrived.”
— Guest, Kyoto

“Nothing was demanded of me here.”
— Visiting artist

“I slept deeply, then walked slowly.”
— First-time guest

“I came for a night and stayed in myself a little longer.”
— Traveler, Kansai