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 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 Japans west coast has remained blissfully off the radar of most overseas travelers， but has long been a favorite getaway for the Japanese.

Designated a UNESCO City of Crafts and Folk Art， Kanazawa has serious artistic credibility and is a center for artisans who produce lacquer ware， textiles and other crafts using traditional techniques. None of these is more identified with Kanazawa than gold leaf. True to the citys 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 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 shoguns 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 stores craftsmen， 66-year-old Shigeyo Aoshima， whom I watched hammer sheets of gold pressed between 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 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， shingle-roofed homes and 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 Colonial Williamsburg after closing time. The stone-paved lanes were eerily silent except for an occasional gurgling sound from one of the canals， which were once used to transport goods but are so pristine its hard to believe they were ever anything but decorative. I was brought back to the present when a woman appeared， seemingly 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 sound stage for a 19th-century costume drama.

But the biggest draw for Higashi Chaya are the 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 banter over elaborate meals.

The citys 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 camouflage classical pagodas， which provide meditative spots to rest beside the flower-lined ponds.

The park embodies wabi-sabi， the Japanese aesthetic that celebrates 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 ephemeral. In spring it blushes with canopies of pink cherry blossoms; in summer its 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 chandeliers. From season to season， the very shape of Kenrokuen changes.

Just down the hill from the timelessness of Kenrokuen is the unabashedly modern 21st Century Museum of Contemporary Art， a 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 theyll be around for centuries more.

當(dāng)我走下到達(dá)金澤的火車時(shí)，我首先注意到的是金澤火車站的超現(xiàn)代設(shè)計(jì)，那閃閃發(fā)亮的玻璃穹頂。接著，我發(fā)現(xiàn)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(xiàn)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(jī)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(diào)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(jì)的城堡小鎮(zhèn)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(diǎn)。

金澤被聯(lián)合國教科文組織評為“手工藝與民間藝術(shù)之都”，具有極高的藝術(shù)價(jià)值，是傳統(tǒng)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(shù)金箔。與其名字相符，金澤（意為金色的沼澤）幾乎出產(chǎn)了日本所有的金箔。在日本，人們喜歡用金箔裝點(diǎn)一切，從紀(jì)念碑到食物。

我在箔座本店（當(dāng)?shù)匾婚g專賣鍍金飾品的商店）看到許多顧客前來購買價(jià)值數(shù)千美元的鍍金珠寶盒和碗，或者是一些他們習(xí)慣給朋友和同事帶回去的紀(jì)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(jì)一位幕府將軍的隨行茶室復(fù)制品，上面覆蓋著無數(shù)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(shù)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。等他完工后，金箔變得比普通的紙還要薄一千倍。當(dāng)他用手指摩搓金箔時(shí)，金箔便融化在他指間，閃閃發(fā)光。當(dāng)我向青島先生詢問他練習(xí)了多長時(shí)間才成為工匠大師時(shí)，他給出了一個(gè)典型的日本式答案：“訓(xùn)練永無止境，”他說。

逃過了地震和海嘯，也逃過了曾摧毀日本許多城市的二戰(zhàn)空襲，金澤簡直是一座貨真價(jià)實(shí)的綜合博物館，也是全日本被保存得最好的城市之一。泥墻瓦頂?shù)姆课菀约按謮训拇髽?，現(xiàn)在的長町區(qū)看起來一定和16到19世紀(jì)江戶時(shí)代的日本武士所居住的長町區(qū)一模一樣。

營業(yè)時(shí)間結(jié)束后，附近的街區(qū)一片沉寂，我開始懷疑自己是否走進(jìn)了日本的殖民地威廉斯堡。走在石板小道上，周圍靜得詭異，只能間或聽到河道那邊傳來的潺潺流水聲。以前，人們通過這些河道來運(yùn)送貨物。但是這些河道非常清澈，難以想象那竟然不是裝飾觀賞用的。一位不知從哪里冒出來的女士出現(xiàn)在我眼前，她推開一扇大大的木門，里面是一個(gè)停車場和六輛汽車，我被帶回了現(xiàn)代。她把電動(dòng)車駛進(jìn)狹窄的小巷，接著關(guān)上門，21世紀(jì)的痕跡再次被隱藏了起來。

東茶屋街位于該市另一面，同樣也是一個(gè)歷史文化街區(qū)，看起來就像是19世紀(jì)古裝劇的拍攝現(xiàn)場。

然而，東茶屋街最大的特色是在此處工作的藝妓。白天，這些穿著和服的女士會(huì)在茶屋的庭院里為客人奉上甜點(diǎn)和濃濃的綠茶。夜晚，這些受過傳統(tǒng)訓(xùn)練的表演者則會(huì)穿上繁飾華麗的和服，把臉涂成白色，陪那些有錢的客人享用精致的佳肴，與他們飲酒作樂、談笑逗趣。

金澤市最具代表性的建筑是占地28英畝的兼六園，是舊時(shí)供住在鄰近城堡的藩王娛樂的地方。兼六園是典型的日式花園，園內(nèi)小路蜿蜒交錯(cuò)，分布著多座錯(cuò)落有致的拱橋，橋下是涓涓流水。種滿成排鮮花的池塘旁是被粗壯松樹遮擋住的古塔，是供人沉思休息的地方。

這座園林體現(xiàn)了日本美學(xué)里的“佗寂之美”，也就是不恒久，不完美之美。歐洲的園林都是富麗堂皇的——像是凡爾賽宮里面的那些，設(shè)計(jì)師們似乎都將永恒不朽的原則銘記于心。然而，日本園林（比如兼六園）的設(shè)計(jì)師們則著力傳達(dá)出世間一切皆短暫這一理念。春天，滿園都是漫天開放的粉紅色櫻花。夏天，血紅色的杜鵑開滿了整個(gè)園林。冬天，為了保護(hù)樹枝不被大雪壓斷，花匠會(huì)用長長的繩子將樹干和撐著樹干的竹竿綁緊，看起來就像是一盞盞巨大的枝形吊燈。一年四季，兼六園呈現(xiàn)出不同的面貌。

沿著未受時(shí)間影響的兼六園往山下走，就是極其現(xiàn)代化的21世紀(jì)當(dāng)代藝術(shù)博物館，一座冷硬的圓形建筑，由大量的玻璃構(gòu)建而成，顯現(xiàn)出四周環(huán)境，而非與之爭鋒。

我知道金澤是一腳深植于過去的城市，從博物館里我了解到其另一腳正在邁向未來，幾乎與駛進(jìn)其火車站的子彈列車一樣高速。然而，幾個(gè)世紀(jì)以來，金澤最好的那些部分卻未曾改變。我?guī)缀鹾敛粦岩桑瑤讉€(gè)世紀(jì)以后，它們也同樣不會(huì)改變。