かおり風景100選 (kaori fūkei hyakusen) means "the 100 selected fragrance landscapes." The committee that chose them defined a fragrance landscape as a place where locals and visitors alike find a smell pleasant, and which deserves to be handed on together with the nature, culture and daily life around it. The idea came from an office better known for bad smells. For the ministry, and the Environment Agency before it, smell had meant the Offensive Odor Control Law of 1971, which lets local governments limit the odours that factories and other businesses give off. Complaints were rising as bad smells became an everyday urban nuisance: in the 2001 fiscal year, the year of the list, local governments logged 23,776, the most since the count began in 1970, and most of the rise came from open burning and private homes. The ministry had already written a measurement made with human noses into that law. What it added was an idea it called kaori kankyō, the fragrance environment: get people to rediscover the good smells around them, in the hope that noticing those would make them notice the bad ones and do something about them.
Nominations ran from May 25 to the end of August 2001 and brought in 600, 512 of them from local governments and 88 from individuals and groups. The eight-member committee was chaired by Iwasaki Yoshiharu of the Tokyo Metropolitan Research Institute for Environmental Protection, who had worked on air pollution and bad smells since 1970 and devised the triangular odour bag test behind the law's odour index; beside him sat the tanka poet Michiura Motoko, the actress and essayist Takagi Miho, and Hata Masataka, president of the Kyoto incense house Shoyeido. They looked for smells anyone could enjoy rather than only a few, that local people were working to keep, and that had what they called dignity. A first round cut the 600 to 244. Each of those got a single sheet of photos and notes, the members tested their criteria on two field trips, and then each put forward favourites for the whole committee to talk through; the 100 were announced on October 30, 2001, and the towns collected their certificates at a forum in Tokyo on November 12. The committee's report also lists smells it was sorry to leave out: sakura shrimp drying in the sun, hydrangeas, fireworks, strawberries, fishing harbours, and kugini, sand lance fry simmered in soy sauce and sugar, whose smell tells people along the Seto Inland Sea that spring has come, though the fish have since grown scarce.
The ministry keeps the list on one page with its 1996 soundscapes and its star-watching campaigns, which ask people to measure how dark their night sky is. Some places made both the sound and the smell lists: Kaze no Matsubara in Noshiro; the Fukushimagata lagoon in Niigata, where the bean geese are the sound and hot summer grass is the smell; the kiln village of Okawachiyama in Imari; and Nara Park, chosen for its deer and temple bells and again for the candles of the Tokae. What counts as a landscape is generous. Some entries are a single tree, like Oshimoriji's osmanthus in Saijo, or Fuma's "great camphor" in Katori, which turns out not to be a camphor at all. Others are a morning market, a street of secondhand bookshops, the make-up of Gion's maiko, and a bonfire that Sukagawa's peony garden lights once a year from its dead trees. Every one of the 47 prefectures has at least one entry, and none has more than four: Hokkaido, Nagano, Shizuoka, Kyoto and Oita have four each. The ministry's own table still gives each entry's town as it stood in 2001, though 45 of the 124 cities, towns and villages it names have since merged into bigger ones: look for Oshika, Haguro or Kamiyaku today and you will find them inside Ishinomaki, Tsuruoka and Yakushima.
Twenty-five years on, the list reads a little differently on the ground. Only one entry is closed outright. The fire that followed the New Year's Day earthquake of 2024 burned 49,000 square metres around Wajima's morning market street, and since July 10, 2024 its stallholders have traded inside the Wai-Plaza supermarket. The city began rebuilding the burned district in March 2026, and the market's union aims to move into a new plaza there around summer 2027. Tokyo's port stopped handling raw logs once timber began arriving in containers, so logs no longer come to the Shinkiba ponds; Citrus Park Setoda closed in December 2015 and reopened in August 2022, run by the company Setomos, as a free park of 1,300 lemon trees, without the pavilion of some 600 citrus varieties it was chosen for; and the Oita Kaori no Mori Museum at Notsuharu was abolished in March 2006, its collection now on loan to the Oita Fragrance Museum in Beppu.
Some came back. Ichihasama's lily garden closed in 2020, as its members aged and the pandemic hit, and a volunteer group revived it in 2025. Hiraoka Shrine's plum grove was felled after plum pox virus was found in 2015, and about 200 young trees were planted in 2021. And the Kurobe Gorge Railway, cut by rockfall in the 2024 earthquake, runs through to Keyakidaira again from October 1, 2026, though at the top you can go no further than the station and the visitor centre while repairs go on. Other things are off limits, for now or for good. JR Hokkaido retired the Norokko sightseeing train, which used to stop beside Farm Tomita, after its last run on September 23, 2026. Enryakuji's Konpon Chudo has been closed inside since January 2026 and stays so until about January 2028, with its Fumetsu no Hoto lamp shown meanwhile in the Manpaido. Walking round Chiringashima island has been banned since landslides in June 2024, though the sandbar crossing is open; Shiratani Unsuikyo on Yakushima has been shut since Typhoon No. 24 in early September 2026; and the trail up among Owakudani's vents opens only for guided walks booked in advance.
Jet Lag: The Game put the list on a challenge card in Japanorama, its 19th season: a seven-day race from Nishi-Oyama, JR's southernmost station, to Wakkanai, in which a team has to clear a challenge to leave each prefecture. The card, Smell an Amazing Smell, sends a team to one of "the 100 sites of Good Fragrance," as it calls them, where each player writes down three adjectives for the smell. One word in common wins it; miss, and they wait 30 minutes and go again, with no word used twice. To play along on your own trip, pick a smell that does not depend on the calendar, like the sulphur at Kusatsu's Yubatake or Owakudani, the incense at Hozenji, the old paper in Jimbocho or the tea shops on the Byodoin approach, and leave the lavender and plum blossom for the few weeks they flower.