Nikko Tosho-gu

Tokugawa Ieyasu ended a century of civil war, founded a dynasty that ruled for 250 years, and asked to be buried simply on this mountain. His grandson Iemitsu ignored that. In 1636 he rebuilt the shrine on a scale calculated to make the point that the Tokugawa were not merely warlords, employing thousands of craftsmen for a year and a half and covering every available surface in carving, gold leaf and colour.

There are more than 5,000 carvings. The Yomeimon gate alone has around 500 of them, dragons, sages, children, lions, in layers dense enough that the nickname is the gate where you lose track of the day. One of its pillars is deliberately carved upside down, on the theory that a finished thing begins to decay and an imperfection keeps decay away. It came out of a full restoration in 2017 and the colours are startling.

Two small carvings get the most attention. The three wise monkeys sit on the sacred stable, part of a sequence of eight panels telling a life story. The sleeping cat, attributed to Hidari Jingoro, is above a doorway and is easy to walk past. That doorway leads to 207 stone steps up through the cedars to Ieyasu's actual tomb, which is plain, quiet and a relief after the gold.

This is not the restrained Japan of Kyoto temples, and some visitors find it overwhelming or vulgar. That reaction is as old as the buildings.

Entry is around 1,600 yen. Come on a weekday if you can; school groups arrive by the coachload. The approach road is lined with cedars planted in the 1600s, the longest tree-lined avenue in the world.