There exists a certain magic in the films of Hayao Miyazaki, a tangible sense of place that makes his worlds feel less like fantasy and more like a memory half-recalled. Perhaps no film embodies this quality more profoundly than My Neighbor Totoro. The story of Satsuki and Mei, two sisters discovering wonder and comfort in a rural landscape inhabited by gentle spirits, has captivated audiences for decades. Its power lies not in grand adventure, but in its quiet, deeply felt connection to the natural world. The sun-drenched rice paddies, the cool, dark groves of ancient trees, the dusty country lanes—they all feel real because, in a very essential way, they are. The world of My Neighbor Totoro is not a single, pinpointable location on a map, but rather a lovingly crafted amalgamation of a specific, and very precious, type of Japanese landscape known as satoyama. This journey is an invitation to step through the screen and into that world, to walk the paths that inspired Miyazaki and discover the very real heart of Totoro’s home, a place of profound beauty and quiet resilience nestled right on the edge of the world’s largest metropolis.
This pilgrimage takes us primarily to the Sayama Hills, a verdant island of rolling hills and woodlands straddling the border of Tokyo and Saitama prefectures. It is here, in this patchwork of farms, forests, and reservoirs, that the spirit of the film is most vibrantly alive. This is not a theme park, but a living, breathing landscape preserved through the passion and dedication of a community that recognized its irreplaceable value, a community spurred into action by the very film it inspired. As you prepare to explore this enchanting region, let this map serve as your initial guide, a starting point for a journey into the quiet wonder of Totoro’s Japan. From here, the path is yours to discover, one rustling leaf and sun-dappled trail at a time.
If you’re inspired to explore more real-world landscapes brought to life through animation, consider planning a pilgrimage to the locations of ‘5 Centimeters per Second’.
The Heart of Totoro’s World: The Sayama Hills
The journey into the world of My Neighbor Totoro begins in a place that feels both surprisingly near and enchantingly remote from Tokyo’s concrete canyons. The Sayama Hills, or Sayama Kyūryō, are a treasured remnant of the Musashino Plain’s original woodlands—a green sanctuary that has withstood the relentless spread of the city. For director Hayao Miyazaki, who has lived near this region in Tokorozawa for decades, these hills were more than just a backdrop; they were a character, a living presence that shaped his childhood memories and inspired his creative vision. When he set out to create the world for Satsuki and Mei, he drew directly from the sights, sounds, and emotions of this unique landscape. The result is a film that stands as a poignant tribute to a rapidly disappearing part of Japan’s cultural and ecological heritage.
Walking through the hills today, the connection feels immediate and tangible. The narrow, unpaved paths winding through thick bamboo groves, the sudden clearings revealing patchworks of vegetable gardens, and the towering presence of a sacred camphor tree—it’s as if scenes from the movie are unfolding all around you. This is the very place where Mei might have chased a small white Totoro, vanishing into the underbrush, or where the family waited at a bus stop on a rainy evening. The atmosphere seems saturated with nostalgia, even for those who have never experienced it firsthand—a testament to the universal appeal of Miyazaki’s storytelling.
Discovering ‘Totoro’s Forest’
What makes the Sayama Hills truly special is that their preservation is deeply intertwined with the film itself. In the late 1980s, as Japan’s bubble economy propelled widespread development, this precious green space faced grave threat. Bulldozers encroached, and the landscape that had inspired a cinematic classic was on the brink of permanent loss. In response, a grassroots conservation effort emerged, leading to the establishment in 1990 of the Totoro no Furusato Foundation (The Totoro Hometown Fund), with Hayao Miyazaki playing a pivotal role. This foundation launched a national trust movement, using the beloved Totoro character as its symbol to raise funds to purchase small parcels of land throughout the hills, safeguarding them from development indefinitely. Today, there are over fifty protected plots collectively known as ‘Totoro’s Forest’ or ‘Totoro no Mori.’
Exploring these preserved areas is the heart of the pilgrimage. There is no single entrance or defined path; instead, you’ll find a network of walking trails marked by charming, hand-painted wooden signs featuring Totoro’s silhouette. These paths lead you through diverse environments, from dark, moist cedar groves where sunlight struggles to break through the canopy, to bright, open fields edged by sawtooth oak and chestnut trees. The experience is one of quiet discovery. Each bend reveals a new view, texture, or sound. You may hear the distinctive call of a Japanese bush warbler or catch sight of a vibrant mandarin duck on a reservoir’s surface. The aim is not to reach a particular destination but to immerse yourself in the atmosphere, to slow down and appreciate the small details that make this place enchanting—the acorns scattered on the earth, moss clinging to stone walls, the way light filters through the leaves. It is an exercise in mindfulness, an opportunity to reconnect with the gentle, patient rhythm of the natural world celebrated so beautifully in the film.
The Essence of Satoyama: A Vanishing Landscape
To fully appreciate the Sayama Hills and their link to My Neighbor Totoro, one must understand the concept of satoyama. The term literally means ‘village-mountain’ and refers to the patchwork landscapes traditionally found at the boundary between cultivated lowlands and wild mountains. For centuries, these areas were the lifeblood of rural Japanese communities. The woodlands were not untouched wilderness; they were actively managed by locals. Villagers harvested timber for fuel and building materials, gathered wild vegetables and mushrooms, and collected fallen leaves as fertilizer for their rice fields. This symbiotic relationship created a unique, highly diverse ecosystem, a managed woodland supporting both human life and abundant flora and fauna.
The world Satsuki and Mei inhabit is a classic satoyama landscape. Their new home is surrounded by rice fields irrigated by a network of small canals. Beyond the fields lies the forest—not a threatening wilderness but a source of wonder and life. The giant camphor tree sheltering Totoro is the spiritual heart of this landscape, a shinboku or sacred tree symbolizing the Shinto belief in kami, or deities, dwelling in natural objects. This reverence for nature lies at the core of the film’s philosophy. The satoyama represents a world where humans live in harmony with their environment, not as masters, but as respectful partners. This is the world Miyazaki saw disappearing amid post-war industrialization and urbanization. As Japan shifted to fossil fuels and chemical fertilizers, traditional practices maintaining the satoyama were abandoned. The woodlands became neglected, overgrown, and less biodiverse. The film is, in many ways, a vivid expression of natsukashii—a deep, often wistful nostalgia for this lost way of life and the profound bond with nature it embodied. Preserving the Sayama Hills is thus more than environmental conservation; it is cultural preservation, an effort to protect a living museum of a landscape that has shaped the Japanese spirit for centuries.
Kurosuke’s House: A Step Back in Time
While the forest itself is the main attraction, many visitors also seek out Kurosuke’s House, known as ‘The House of Totoro.’ This charming, two-story wooden house, built in the early Showa period (around the 1930s or 40s), perfectly captures the rustic, somewhat weathered home the Kusakabe family moves into in the film. It feels as if Satsuki and Mei might come running out at any moment. The original house that inspired it was sadly destroyed by fire in 2009, but the spirit endures in this carefully preserved building, the central hub for the Totoro no Furusato Foundation.
Entering the house is like stepping into a time capsule. It is filled with Showa-era furniture, tools, and everyday items, creating an extraordinarily authentic atmosphere. You can see the old-fashioned kitchen with its wood-fired stove, tatami rooms with paper sliding doors, and the steep wooden staircase on which you can almost hear children’s footsteps. The name ‘Kurosuke’ refers to the susuwatari, or ‘soot sprites,’ the small black fuzzy creatures Mei and Satsuki find in their attic. Visitors are welcomed by a giant, plush Totoro in the main room—a perfect photo opportunity and delightful greeting. The house is not a sterile museum; it is a warm, inviting space managed by dedicated volunteers eager to share stories about the area and conservation efforts. It serves as an essential community center and information hub for exploring the surrounding forests. Visiting Kurosuke’s House provides a tangible, architectural connection to the film’s world, complementing the natural landscapes of the hills and enriching the entire experience.
A Pilgrim’s Practical Guide to Sayama Hills
Embarking on a journey to Totoro’s Forest is a deeply rewarding experience, and with a bit of planning, it becomes a surprisingly accessible day trip from central Tokyo. The secret is to embrace the unhurried pace of the countryside and give yourself plenty of time to explore without sticking to a strict schedule. The shift from Tokyo’s hyper-modern environment to the rustic charm of the Sayama Hills is part of the enchantment itself.
Getting There: Access from Tokyo
Your main gateway to the Sayama Hills is the Seibu Railway network, which stretches out from major stations in northwestern Tokyo. For most visitors, the easiest route is to start from either Seibu-Shinjuku Station or Ikebukuro Station.
From Ikebukuro, board the Seibu Ikebukuro Line heading towards Hanno. At Nishi-Tokorozawa Station, transfer to the Seibu Sayama Line—a short branch line that takes you to the final stop, Seibu-Kyūjō-mae Station. This station’s name means ‘In front of the Seibu Dome,’ and you will indeed arrive right next to the impressive, futuristic Belluna Dome, home to the Seibu Lions baseball team. The stark contrast between this modern landmark and the tranquil nature you are about to enter powerfully underscores how close this sanctuary is to the urban sprawl.
From Seibu-Shinjuku Station, take the Seibu Shinjuku Line and transfer at Tokorozawa Station to the Seibu Ikebukuro Line, then switch again at Nishi-Tokorozawa for the Sayama Line, finally arriving at Seibu-Kyūjō-mae. The entire trip from either starting point usually takes about 45 to 60 minutes.
Once you reach Seibu-Kyūjō-mae Station, the entrance to the forest trails is just a short walk away. Kurosuke’s House, however, is located a bit farther out. The most enjoyable way to get there is a 20-30 minute walk through scenic countryside, or alternatively, you can take a brief taxi ride. Be sure to check Kurosuke’s House’s opening days and hours in advance, as it is typically open only on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays, often with limited hours. Information can be found on the Totoro no Furusato Foundation’s official website.
Navigating the Forest: Trails and Itineraries
There is no single ‘correct’ way to explore the Sayama Hills; the charm lies in the freedom to roam. Upon arrival, it’s wise to pick up a map—often available at Kurosuke’s House or downloadable from the foundation’s website. These maps mark the numbered ‘Totoro’s Forest’ plots and the network of trails connecting them.
A good starting point is the area around Sayama and Tama Lakes, two large reservoirs at the region’s core. The paths circling these lakes offer beautiful, open views and are relatively flat and easy to walk. From there, you can branch off into the denser, moodier forest trails. A popular route leads from the lakes toward Kurosuke’s House, passing through several preserved forest plots. This walk lets you experience the full satoyama landscape: from lakeside paths to dark cedar groves, and finally emerging into the agricultural fields and old farmhouses surrounding Kurosuke’s House.
Comfortable footwear is essential for your walk. While the trails are generally well maintained, they can be unpaved, uneven, and muddy after rain. Dress in layers, as the temperature can feel markedly cooler under the thick forest canopy. In summer, insect repellent is a must, as the humid woods are home to many mosquitoes. Bring a small bag with water and snacks, since shops and vending machines are scarce along the trails. Most importantly, carry a bag for your trash—the ‘leave no trace’ principle is vital for preserving this beautiful, pristine place.
When to Visit: The Forest Through the Seasons
Like the film itself, which gently depicts the changing seasons, Sayama Hills present a unique charm year-round. Each season paints the landscape with a distinctive palette, offering a different experience.
Spring is a season of renewal. From late March to early April, cherry blossoms around the lakes burst into bloom, creating breathtaking scenes that attract many locals for hanami (flower viewing). The forest floor comes alive with fresh green shoots and wildflowers, while the air resonates with the lively chorus of birds.
Summer, from June to August, reveals the forest at its lushest and most vibrant. The greens grow deep and rich, the canopy thickens, and the air is heavy with the scent of damp earth and foliage. This is when the landscape most closely resembles the sun-drenched, vibrant world of the film. However, summer also brings high heat, humidity, and numerous insects. It’s an ideal time to seek the forest’s cool shade, but be sure to carry ample water.
Autumn is arguably the most spectacular season to visit. From late October to early December, the hills ignite with color. The leaves of Japanese maples and sawtooth oaks turn brilliant shades of red, orange, and gold. The crisp, cool air is perfect for hiking, and the forest floor is carpeted with fallen leaves and acorns—the very donguri Totoros love to collect. The soft, golden light lends a particularly magical atmosphere to the landscape.
Winter brings a more stark and tranquil beauty. Bare branches of deciduous trees form intricate silhouettes against the sky, offering clearer views across the hills and lakes. The air is cold and refreshing, and the trails are far less crowded. A quiet walk on a sunny winter day can be deeply peaceful and meditative, providing a moment of reflection in the sleeping forest.
Beyond the Forest: Other Whispers of Totoro Across Japan
While the Sayama Hills serve as the spiritual and creative heartland of My Neighbor Totoro, the film’s widespread popularity has inspired other locations throughout Japan to become unofficial pilgrimage sites, either created by fans or recognized by communities for their resemblance to the film’s iconic imagery. Though these places may not have a direct connection to the film’s production, they embody its whimsical spirit and provide charming tributes to its lasting legacy.
The Catbus Stop in Saiki, Oita
Nestled in the rural landscape of Saiki, Oita Prefecture, on the southern island of Kyushu, lies a heartfelt tribute born entirely from local affection for the film. In the small district of Totoro (a coincidental name that predates the film), a couple built a life-sized replica of the famous bus stop where Satsuki and Mei wait in the rain with Totoro. The carefully crafted sign, the handmade statue of Totoro with his signature grin and leaf umbrella, and even a silhouette of the Catbus create a magical photo spot. It has become a cherished local landmark, attracting visitors from across Japan. What makes this location truly special is its authenticity; it is not a commercial venture but a genuine expression of fandom, set amidst rice fields and verdant hills that perfectly evoke the film’s atmosphere. Visiting here feels less like typical tourism and more like uncovering a delightful secret shared by fans.
Totoro Rock in Yamagata
In Yamagata Prefecture to the north, nature itself seems to have fashioned a tribute to the film’s beloved character. In the town of Sakegawa, a large tufa rock formation known as Kosugi no Osugi (The Great Cedar of Kosugi) bears an uncanny resemblance to Totoro’s silhouette when seen from a particular angle. The two trees atop the rock perfectly mimic his ears. This site has become a favorite among Ghibli fans, a place where the boundary between animation and natural scenery charmingly blurs. The area surrounding the rock is tranquil and picturesque, offering visitors the chance to appreciate the serene, rural beauty of the Tohoku region. This “Totoro Rock” beautifully illustrates how the film has reshaped the way people perceive their environment, inspiring them to discover magic and wonder in the shapes and forms of nature.
The Enduring Spirit of Totoro: Conservation and Community
A journey to the real-life landscapes that inspired My Neighbor Totoro is more than just visiting the film’s origins. It is an encounter with a powerful legacy of conservation and a testament to the profound influence that art can have on the real world. The story of the Sayama Hills is an inspiring example of how a beloved tale can rally a community to safeguard its natural heritage. Without the film, it is very likely that this precious satoyama landscape would have been lost to concrete and asphalt.
Why the Landscape Matters
At its core, My Neighbor Totoro carries a subtle yet deeply meaningful environmental message. It doesn’t preach or lecture; instead, it simply depicts a world where nature inspires awe, comfort, and spiritual strength. Totoro and the other spirits are not separate from the forest—they are the forest, embodying its life force. The iconic scene where the girls and the Totoros dance to make the acorns sprout beautifully symbolizes the patient, mysterious processes of nature and the joy of nurturing its growth. The film gently reminds us that our well-being is intimately connected to the health of the world around us. In an era marked by climate change and ecological crisis, this message feels more urgent than ever. The continued existence of “Totoro’s Forest” is a living representation of this ethos. It stands as a powerful symbol of what can be achieved when people unite to protect the places they cherish, ensuring that future generations will have the chance to walk these same paths and experience the same sense of wonder that inspired Hayao Miyazaki.
A Final Thought: Finding Your Own Totoro
Leaving the forest and heading toward the train station, with the Belluna Dome silhouetted in the distance, one carries the quiet magic of the Sayama Hills back into the modern world. The pilgrimage isn’t about spotting a literal Totoro hidden in a camphor tree. It’s about rediscovering a way of seeing the world—a way of recognizing the sacred in the everyday. It’s about understanding that the spirit of Totoro dwells in every ancient tree, every rustling grove, and every patch of green that endures against the odds. The greatest gift of this journey is realizing that you don’t have to be in the Sayama Hills to find this magic. Both the film and its real-life inspiration teach us to seek it everywhere—in a local park, a community garden, or even a single, resilient tree growing amidst a city street. They encourage us to become stewards of our own natural worlds, to protect the quiet places, and to ensure there will always be a home for the spirits of the forest, wherever they may be.
