Toyama Prefecture’s Fureai Sekibutsu no Sato (ふれあい石仏の里, literally “Village Where You Can Meet Buddhist Statues”) is an obscure mountain-side sculpture park that feels frozen in time. Roughly 18 km south of Toyama City, this former business park is now a silent grove of weather-worn stone figures. An almost mystical stillness pervades the clearing: sunlight dapples through ancient cedars, birds sing in the distance, and rows of moss-covered statues – some human-like, some fantastical – seem to glance back at every visitor. By day, the air is cool and earthy, the scent of wet stone and cedar framing the scene. By night, locals claim the place becomes eerie – whispered stories tell of shadows moving among the statues once the sun sets. Whatever the truth, this guide will illuminate Fureai Sekibutsu no Sato’s origins, its religious and cultural significance, and exactly what travelers should know to visit respectfully and safely.
“Fureai” means meeting or coming together, and “sekibutsu” literally means stone Buddha (a carved stone image of Buddha). Yet this park is unlike any traditional Buddhist shrine or temple garden. Conceived by Mutsuo Furukawa in the late 1980s, it was intended as a novel tourism spot: hundreds of large stone effigies, many modeled on local people, were arranged across a hillside grove. Today, it is better known as a forgotten or even haunted destination. Local lore hints that as dusk falls the statues ‘come alive’ – a testament to how vividly the park’s dense grouping of stone figures can unsettle the imagination.
The statues number “800-plus” by most accounts, though some recent sources cite around 720. Each sculpture – roughly human-sized – is carved from granite and depicts familiar forms: monks, smiling laypeople, animals and zodiac figures, even historic or mythological characters. All are scattered among ferns and cedars on uneven paths. Over decades of minimal maintenance, rain and moss have softened their features and melded them into the forest, magnifying the “forgotten park” feel. In summer the stones are vivid with green moss; in autumn they are framed by fallen leaves; in winter they may lie half-buried in snow, a silent testimony to seasonal change. The mix of the sacred (Buddhist motifs) with ordinary (local townspeople) underpins the park’s unique character.
Visitors describe a quiet fascination: an uneasy calm broken only by crunching leaves underfoot. Every head is turned toward the path, as if to meet one’s gaze. Under a blue sky, the scene is almost whimsical; under gray skies or moonlight, it feels otherworldly. This unsettling charm is exactly why Google and travel sites list Fureai Sekibutsu no Sato as one of Japan’s top “eerie” or “scary” parks, alongside places like Aokigahara Forest. In reality, it is both sculpture park and spiritual space – part tribute, part art installation – not a horror venue. Respectful curiosity is the best approach.
In 1989 (Showa 64), local magnate Mutsuo Furukawa (古河睦男) formally opened this hillside grove as a public park. Furukawa – a wealthy entrepreneur who ran restaurants and hospitals in Toyama – envisioned a tranquil oasis for relaxation and reflection. According to lore, he wanted “a place where people could relax and meditate in a natural setting”. To fulfill this, he commissioned a Chinese sculpture workshop to carve the figures. Photographs of friends, family and employees were sent to China, where stone master Lu Jinqiao (呂金喬) and his team chiseled over 800 likenesses. The heavy statues were shipped back and hauled into the mountain by barge and truck via the Jinzu River.
It took roughly three to four years to place all of the statues. Older sculptures (hundreds in all) were positioned at the crest of the hill, newer ones laid out below in descending order of the date made. Thus, the path up the slope serves as an almost chronological tour of the park’s development. Every step recalls a 1980s-90s era vision: according to a volunteer guide, Furukawa poured “over a few hundred million yen” into this project, a scale unimaginable for a simple village garden. He even had a statue of himself (in modern clothing) erected among the others, smiling out at visitors.
After Furukawa’s death in 2012, official support vanished. The park fell into neglect; most visitors left by sundown or steered clear entirely. Hedges grew tall, underbrush crept over steps, and statues gradually darkened with lichen. In 2018 a photographer famously ‘rediscovered’ the site and spread its eerie beauty on social media. Today, local residents and fans keep it alive. A small volunteer group now does monthly clean-ups – clearing the brush and pathways – essentially “from the bottom up,” leaving the hillside wild above. The site remains free and open to all. Its current state is a living archive of spontaneity: no new statues have been added in decades, so the park slowly reverts to nature around the 800 figures left behind.
At least 720–800 individual sculptures dot the woodland here. They form loose clusters on ledges or in clearings, often flanking the narrow earthen trails. Though many identify them broadly as “Buddhist statues,” only some figures are actually religious deities. One entire sub-section of the park resembles a conventional Buddhist assembly: mossy Rakan (Arhat) statues, sitting in meditative poses with shaven heads and robes. Rakan (羅漢) are enlightened disciples of Buddha, often represented in collections of 16, 500 or similar numbers. Fureai’s Rakan (numbering roughly 300 according to local counts) were likely carved to invoke those traditions. Each Rakan has a distinct expression – some smiling, some stern – reflecting legends that real monks served as models. These groups stand on stepped terraces mid-park, faces weathered by sun and rain. Visitors report that they watch passersby with knowing gazes.
Elsewhere are statues that look entirely ordinary: men and women in everyday attire. Furukawa asked sculptors to portray his personal acquaintances, after all. The majority of figures here have hair (not shaven) and wear suits, jackets or casual clothes. Many hold objects – a briefcase, a bouquet, even a cellphone – rendered in stone. One can spot a nurse with a stethoscope, a businessman with a loaf of bread, or a mother carrying her child. These human effigies – over half the collection – give the place its uncanny character. Seeing so many “real people” frozen in mid-smile, yet crumbling with age, has a powerful effect.
Jizō Bosatsu: Notably, several statues are of Jizō Bodhisattva (地蔵菩薩), easily recognized by their child-like monk features, staff with rings (shakujō), and offerings like little hats and bibs. In Japanese belief, Jizō is the compassionate guardian of children (especially those who die young) and travelers. Small Jizō statues with shaved heads and gentle expressions stand protectively at corners of the site, suggesting both a spiritual purpose and respect for pilgrimage tradition. (Local custom holds that carving Jizō can commemorate departed loved ones.)
Kannon Bosatsu: A few statues (usually larger, standing figures) depict Kannon (観音, Avalokiteśvara) – the Bodhisattva of Mercy, often shown with serene, motherly features. Kannon is one of Japan’s most beloved deities, believed to have boundless compassion and to save beings in peril. In Fureai Sekibutsu no Sato, you may notice statues with subtly feminine faces or multiple arms/heads: these reflect iconic Kannon forms (Eleven-faced, Thousand-armed Kannon, etc.) that countless temples venerate. The presence of Kannon figures (one large one near the entrance) highlights the park’s link to Buddhist salvation themes – even amid its oddball mix of carvings.
Other Figures: Besides Rakan, Jizō, Kannon, there are zodiac creatures and mythic symbols. For example, a stone Hotei (Laughing Buddha) grins merrily with a big belly – a folk variant often counted among the 7 Lucky Gods. An ox and rabbit recall Shinto or Buddhist legend. Even animals of Furukawa’s Chinese sculptors might appear: one carved chicken perches on a pedestal. In some clusters you might find a statue of the founder himself, portrait-style. Throughout the grounds, groupings are thematic: e.g. a circle of family statues, a council of elderly sages, a stroll of children. Nothing is labeled, so exploring becomes detective work.
Local Perspective: “To us, they’re like old friends,” explains a Toyama guide. “You slowly recognize faces – one was a shopkeeper, another a nurse. Walking here is respectful; many people bow or offer flowers to the bigger figures.”
Statue Identification Guide: Many statues are generic and weathered, but look for distinctive features: shaved head = Rakan/monk; childlike robed figure = Jizō; multiple arms/heads or vase-and-willow props = Kannon; Western clothes/hair = local personage.
What makes this park feel eerie to many Western visitors? It’s not horror theatrics, but a natural confluence of elements. First, the uncanny valley effect: hundreds of humanoid forms with almost-lifelike eyes, awkward smiles or blank stares can unsettle our brains. In dappled light, these statues hover on the edge between living and inert. Their expressions – patiently calm or faintly amused – create the sensation of being silently observed. Psychologists note that humanoid figures lacking animation often trigger discomfort (the uncanny valley phenomenon), and here it is amplified by sheer numbers and environmental decay.
Then there’s nature’s reclaiming: vines creep over shoulders, lichen stains cloth folds, eyelids missing chips. Statues placed decades ago now wear the uniform of the forest. Mossy green heads sway in the breeze, and birds and insects nest among crevices. This visual of living nature enveloping human art can feel mysterious or even ominous; it challenges expectations of permanence. Visitors often remark on the silence – no chirping crowds, just the rhythmic patter of leaves and distant traffic. In stillness, any small sound (a twig snap, a wind gust) seems magnified, as if the forest itself is alive around the statues.
Culturally, Buddhism’s themes of death and the afterlife also play a role. A foreign traveler unfamiliar with the benign role of Jizō or the supportive function of these images may find the site’s imagery (a half-buried bodhisattva, dozens of silent watchers) somewhat ghostly. In Japanese context, however, stone statues at shrines or by graves are devotional and protective. Still, when one stands alone here at dusk, the hundreds of turned faces can evoke old ghost-story tropes – strangers carved in anonymity. A particularly spooky effect can occur under a full moon: elongated statue shadows stretch across the paths, playing tricks of light and making statues seem to move as you round a bend.
Finally, contrast amplifies feeling. In Japan, small roadside Jizō statues are everyday sights; here they are multiplied extravagantly. This surplus dilutes the familiar comfort. Western visitors often compare it to Aokigahara or haunted forests – a “real-life fantasy”. In truth, the site is peaceful and safe. Its creepiness is more atmospheric than supernatural. As one local volunteer jokes, “The only danger is losing your footing on the mossy stairs!”
Though the park is often visited for its strangeness, each statue carries layers of meaning. Broadly, sekibutsu (石仏) simply means “stone Buddha” – a carved image enshrining Buddhist faith in stone form. Japan has a long tradition of creating sekibutsu in temple precincts, roadside shrines, and pilgrimage routes. These serve devotional purposes: encouraging reflection, aiding the souls of the dead, or marking sacred spaces.
Fureai’s sculptors blended that tradition with personal commemoration. Mutsuo Furukawa’s directive to carve his acquaintances into stone echoes old customs of enshrining venerated figures (donors, saints, elders) in statue form, ensuring their legacy. In this sense, each statue functions like a small family shrine. Indeed, some visitors perform quick prayers to certain figures, as if in gratitude to guardians.
Among Buddhist sects, Jizō statues often dot the countryside as compassionate wardens of lost children or travelers. Here, finding many Jizō is no accident. Placing Jizō figures might reflect Furukawa’s wish to bless the land and its people. As a widely beloved figure, Jizō represents selfless care — fitting for a park meant to be a restful oasis. Meanwhile, Kannon statues carry the weight of Avalokiteśvara’s vow to help all beings. Kannon’s presence suggests that this park was also intended as a place of spiritual merit, not just art. In Japan, wandering into a grove of Kannon images is akin to entering a meditative sanctuary.
It’s important for visitors to approach with respect. Most statues don’t have ropes or signs, but cultural etiquette still applies: avoid loud chatter near them, don’t climb on any figures, and be mindful of visitors who treat the site solemnly (elderly locals often slip coins into beggings at Jizō or leave flowers). Photography is generally permitted and common, but some tripods or flashes might damage small statues or disturb wildlife.
Local Perspective: As one shrine custodian notes, “In our countryside, statues like these are just part of life. When people come here, we hope they feel peaceful rather than scared.”
Etiquette Tip: Even though this park feels abandoned, it is essentially a shrine-like space. Avoid disrespectful poses or pranks with the statues. If you leave an offering (flower, a bit of incense), do it neatly in front of a statue’s base.
Finding this hidden spot is part of the adventure. Precise directions and planning ensure a smooth visit.
Location & Access: The park sits in Osawano, an area just south of Toyama City’s main center. Its address is unofficially known as Fureai Sekibutsu no Sato, Osawano, Toyama (富山市 大沢野ふれあい館前). For GPS coordinates, use 36.5443°N, 137.2315°E. Note: “Osawano” is now part of Toyama City after municipal mergers, so search maps for “Osawano, Toyama.”
By Public Transport (Shinkansen + Bus): Take the Hokuriku Shinkansen from Tokyo Station to Toyama Station (approx. 2hr10min on modern trains, ~¥13,000 one-way). From Toyama Station, board the Kiritani Line bus bound for “Daini Hatsudensho-mae” (第二発電所前) – this is the nearest stop. (Some guides suggest the “Osawano Community Center” stop instead; either requires a short walk.) Get off and walk ~10 minutes to the statue park entrance. The total train+bus journey from Tokyo takes around 3–3.5 hours (including transfers).
By Car: From Tokyo, drive west via the Hokuriku Expressway. The toll highway cuts through Nagano and into Toyama; expect a 5–7 hour drive (depending on traffic). From Kyoto/Osaka, you can drive ~3–4 hours north (via Hokuriku Expressway) into Toyama. Once in Osawano, signs for “Sekibutsu no Sato” are scarce; use a GPS with coordinates or follow local directions (the Toyama tourism website provides map details). There is a free parking lot adjacent to the entrance that holds about 30 cars and several tour buses.
From / Route | Approx. Time | Mode & Cost |
Tokyo → Toyama (Shinkansen) | ~2.0–2.5 hrs | Shinkansen (¥13,000+), then local bus (¥300) |
Toyama → Sekibutsu Park | 40–50 min | Bus (around ¥300 one-way) or taxi (~¥4,000) |
Osaka/Kyoto → Kanazawa | ~2.5 hrs | Hokuriku Shinkansen (to Kanazawa) or Thunderbird train |
Kanazawa → Toyama | ~30 min | Hokuriku Shinkansen (additional ¥3,000+) |
Toyama → Park (from Kanazawa) | ~1 hr | Local bus (via Toyama), or rental car (~¥500 petrol) |
Local (Toyama) | ~20 min | Local taxi (~¥3,000) or bus |
By Car (from Toyama) | ~30 min | Approx. 20 km via highways (no charge for park parking) |
Practical Information: The park has no gates or staffed ticket booth—entrance is free. The parking lot (free) can accommodate cars and tour buses. Restrooms and food: None on-site; bring water and snacks. (There is a volunteer-run hut near the lot that sells simple drinks in summer, but do not count on it.)
Opening Hours: There are no set hours or seasonal closures. The statue paths are open dawn to dusk, year-round. (In winter, snow may block parts of the park; proceed with caution or use snowshoes if exploring off-season.)
What to Bring: Map or GPS (mobile signal is weak in the valley). Water and sun protection in summer; warm layers in cool months. A flashlight is wise if you plan to stay until dusk. Good walking shoes or boots – the terrain is steep, with slippery stone steps. Bug spray in summer, as mosquitoes can be numerous near the river and woods. A small bag for trash – help keep this wild place clean.
Safety & Accessibility: The paths are all natural (gravel, mud, stone steps) and can be uneven. Not stroller- or wheelchair-friendly. Use caution on slopes, especially after rain (the Atlas Obscura “Know Before You Go” warns about hidden grass over worn steps). No harmful wildlife have been reported, but always watch for snakes basking on warm rocks in summer. Cell phone service may drop in the valley; note the time of last bus and have a fallback taxi number. Night visiting is possible but not recommended for first-timers – the park is unlit and the atmosphere intensifies after dark.
Visitor Center & Info: There is a small volunteer-run reception house by the road before entering the park. It has pamphlets (Japanese-only) about the park’s origins and occasionally someone who can answer questions in basic English. Donations are appreciated but not expected.
Planning Note: The famous Tateyama Kurobe Alpine Route (covered in H2-9) is just 1 hour east by road and a popular add-on. If you visit in late April/early May, you can combine the high-snow walls of Tateyama with the spring greenery of Fureai for a dramatic contrast. Gokayama’s thatched village is also ~1 hour away. Local buses and tours often bundle these attractions on multi-day itineraries.
Fureai Sekibutsu no Sato is a photographer’s dream – if you’re prepared for the conditions. The interplay of light, weather, and statues can yield haunting images.
Insider Tip: The little stone Jizō with a red cap (nondescript in the day) becomes a striking focal point at dusk when its cap is illuminated by fading light. A small flashlight aimed at such statues (from a hidden angle) can create a spectral effect, but use caution not to startle wildlife.
Practical Photo Info: There is no formal photography restriction here. Personal photography is encouraged. For social media, check if fellow travelers permit being in frame. Drones: Unlikely problematic in such a rural area, but as a courtesy, fly quietly and far above the treetops to avoid disturbing others.
Each season radically changes Fureai Sekibutsu no Sato’s mood.
Since the statue park is relatively isolated, it’s wise to combine the trip with other Hokuriku attractions. The Toyama region offers natural wonders, cultural sites, and unique experiences within an easy day-trip or overnight radius:
Itinerary Suggestions:
There are no lodgings in Osawano itself, so base yourself in Toyama City or nearby towns. Options:
Dark tourism in Japan has several famous names – Fureai Sekibutsu no Sato has its own niche. Rather than being haunted ruins or ominous landscapes, it’s a curated art-space. Contrast it with:
Quick Comparison Table:
Site | Type | Theme | Vibe |
Fureai Sekibutsu no Sato | Outdoor sculpture park | Buddhist/Human statues | Quietly surreal, contemplative |
Aokigahara Forest | Dense woodland | Natural, legend of yūrei | Intense silence, ominous |
Hashima (Gunkanjima) | Abandoned island town | Post-industrial decay | Ghost-town eerie, stark |
Chokoku-no-Mori (Gunma) | Sculpture park (Buddhist figures) | Mystical art park | Colorful, whimsical, thought-provoking |
Shirakawa-go (Gokayama) | Village (Gassho houses) | Cultural heritage | Quaint, storybook-like |
Visitors to Fureai Sekibutsu no Sato generally leave with a mix of awe and quiet reflection. On travel forums and blogs, common sentiments include: “I’ve never seen anything like this in Japan,” and “It’s peaceful but very creepy at the same time.” First-time visitors often note a genuine “wow” factor upon arrival: the sheer number of statues is overwhelming. Those who speak some Japanese find that local guides gently caution them to be quiet, reinforcing the sense of being in a sacred space rather than a theme park.
Visitors most frequently describe:
– Emotional Impact: A kind of humble wonder. Many say they feel small walking among so many silent faces. Some feel a slight chill or goosebumps at dusk, but none report actual fear or bad experiences – the feeling is described as “eerie in a beautiful way”.
– Unexpected Warmth: International travelers often mention a warm Taiwanese or Chinese friend made them bring water for a statue (small gesture of respect), highlighting an underlying kindness.
– Photogenic Qualities: Photographers universally love it. “Every angle was Instagram gold,” says one reviewer, who appreciated the contrast of sunlight through trees and mossy statues.
– Challenges: Because the park is obscure, many find getting there an adventure. Some stories mention missed buses or discovering it by luck. Once inside, though, visitors say the park’s layout is intuitive – you can’t really get lost.
– Local Encounters: A few travelers met park volunteers polishing a statue’s forehead or sweeping leaves, which often leads to a friendly chat about the history. These interactions underline that the site is maintained by engaged locals, not a commercial operator.
Media coverage (like feature articles and photo essays) often frame it as “odd Japan” content. One popular photo series by traveler Ken Ohki (on Twitter) garnered international attention, showing up in tech news slideshows. Through these stories, the park’s reputation as a surreal and photogenic spot has steadily grown since ~2018. Even so, visitor reviews stress that the atmosphere is personal – small groups, hushed voices – rather than a crowded theme park.
Visitor Quotation: “Walking here felt like stepping into another world. Some statues wore faint smiles, others looked serious. We spent two hours simply wandering. The whole time I felt respectfully introspective, not scared.”
Q: What exactly is Fureai Sekibutsu no Sato?
A: It’s an outdoor sculpture park in Toyama Prefecture, Japan, known as the “Village of Buddhist Statues.” It features hundreds of carved stone figures – some Buddhist deities, some ordinary people – placed on a forested hillside. The experience is more meditative than spooky: visitors often feel a profound quiet and natural beauty among the statues.
Q: How do I get to the park?
A: The park is south of Toyama City. By train, take the Hokuriku Shinkansen to Toyama Station, then a local bus to the Daini Hatsudensho-mae stop (followed by a 10-min walk). Driving is also common: from Toyama City it’s about a 30-minute drive on rural roads. The park’s GPS coordinates are roughly 36.5443°N, 137.2315°E.
Q: Is there an entrance fee or guided tour?
A: No fee – the entire site is free and unsupervised. There is no official guided tour service, but some volunteers may offer informal explanations in Japanese if approached. It’s common to stroll on your own. (The small reception area at the road may have pamphlets in Japanese.)
Q: Why are the statues so creepy? Are they haunted?
A: The “creepy” feeling comes from the uncanny setting: many life-size faces fixed in stone among trees, silently observing visitors. Locals have legends that the statues move or glow at night, but there’s no evidence of the supernatural. In Japanese culture, stone statues are traditional memorial objects, not intended to scare. So the park isn’t actually haunted in any literal sense – it’s just an atmospheric place.
Q: Who carved these statues?
A: They were commissioned by a businessman, Mutsuo Furukawa, in the late 1980s. A team of Chinese sculptors (led by Lu Jinqiao) carved the statues based on photos of Furukawa’s friends, family, and workers. After Furukawa’s death, locals have maintained the site.
Q: Are photos allowed?
A: Yes – it’s a popular photography spot. Bring your camera (or smartphone). Tripods are fine during the day, but avoid blocking trails or flash photography if someone nearby is being reflective. Drone use is generally unregulated in rural Japan, but out of respect, don’t fly too low over the statues.
Q: Can I visit after sunset or at night?
A: The park has no official closing time, but it’s in deep countryside with no lights. Visiting at night is physically possible (especially with a flashlight), but not recommended for safety reasons. Most visitors come during daylight; evening crowds (if any) are locals coming for a spooky thrill. If you do stay late, ensure you have a way back (last bus/taxi times) and warm clothing.
Q: What should I wear or bring?
A: Comfortable walking shoes with good grip (the terrain is uneven, mossy, and may be slippery). Dress in layers – even in summer the forest shade can be cool, and nights are chilly. Rain jacket (Toyama rains frequently) and insect repellent are advisable. Bring water and snacks as there are no shops on-site. It’s also wise to have a map or offline GPS.
Final Thought: Fureai Sekibutsu no Sato is a place of contemplation more than sensational thrill. Many who return describe a reflective mood, an appreciation for impermanence – the twofold beauty of people immortalized and yet reclaimed by nature. A visit here rewards patience and respect: by the time you leave, the dozens of stone faces won’t have scared you, but they’ll leave an indelible imprint of quiet wonder on your journey.
