From the Takyo Abeke website:
Situated along the winding mountain road that is the historic village of Omori, Takyo Abeke is hidden behind a rustic bamboo fence covered in climbing roses and shielded from the road by a deep courtyard garden. The 228-year-old building was once the home of the Abe family (Abeke), who were administrative officials for the Iwami Ginzan silver mine dug deep into the mountains at the top of the village. During the 17th and 18th centuries the silver mine was the largest in the world, and its output financed not only bustling local village life and imposing houses like Abeke but also Japan’s rapid economic growth, urbanization, and flowering of its unique culture of shibusa— aesthetics based on nature, simplicity, and the ephemeral—during the first centuries of the Edo period (1603-1868).
Website: http://www.takyo-abeke.jp/english/
The presence of the inn itself demands this kind of myth-making. Its hulking imperfections, hidden staircases and infinite doorways, narrow pathways and intricate stonework, call to mind an honest, handmade world, where times were slower and things made to last. Rumors of its past are worn proudly on its proverbial sleeve — stripped wood where there once was a second floor balcony, prominently displayed plaques of historic register, mismatched sediments of historic photos, the speckled outline of a dart board and creaking floorboards. The front door was originally the back door because most guests arrived by boat.
Despite the overwhelming presence of boutique inns along the Atlantic, they’re not a strictly East Coast commodity. Case in point: Sonoma’s Farmhouse Inn. 
Beyond its aesthetically-pleasing interiors, the inn also knows a thing or two about food—starting with a nightly turndown service that includes homemade cookies and milk, and ending with the 
Boomers Daily 