Photographs from a small group of islands
Things change a lot in Tokyo. Buildings go up and down, and businesses come and go. Perhaps none quite as starkly as this previously featured old bar.
Sometimes, however, the more things change, the more they somehow remain the same. Like the place below that I first photographed almost 4 years ago.
And then once again last weekend. It’s now different, but also the same, as well as similarly hinting at some kind of unknown story.
The old tofu shop below has appeared on Tokyo Times before, but back then its incredibly large signboard was still proudly intact.
Now why something so impressive is no longer in situ is a mystery. A typhoon did strike the capital around the same time period, so that could have damaged it, or maybe even ripped it off the roof. Who knows? Yet whatever did happen, it has never been put back or restored, and instead, a spot of renovation has taken place. Work that, without the sign as a visual decoy, emphasises just how fantastically skew-whiff everything really is.
She comes in colours everywhere. She combs her hair. She’s like a rainbow.
There are numerous reasons to seek out old Tokyo bars run by equally old people. The often similarly ageing decor is one thing, as is the invariably relaxed and carefree vibe, but perhaps most of all it’s the wealth of stories one hears that makes them truly memorable. Tales from an incredibly long life lived on the city’s far western reaches for example, or the culinary adventures of a lovely fella who left home at 14 so he could train to be a French chef. All unique and genuinely enriching elements of such evenings, and the hours spent in the little bar below were no different.
The clutter on display suggested it had been there for decades, but the mama-san only opened for business 10 years ago. Deciding, at the then sprightly young age of 73, that she needed somewhere small. And small it is, with space for 6 people at the most — allowing her to comfortably cook, serve drinks and still have time for a well earned sit down and cigarette.
All of which is rather different from her younger days. Starting out as a company salesperson of sorts, she enjoyed several business trips to Asia and beyond, but ultimately it wasn’t really her thing, so she made a switch to the entertainment industry. A move that culminated in her running a club in Shibuya, where the clientele, and the many women who looked after them, had to to be managed. This turned out to be something of a high point of sorts, as after that she moved to progressively smaller establishments, in progressively more suburban locations, resulting, many decades later, in where she is now. A place where she’s still happy, still running a tight ship, and despite disagreements with her truly enormous cat, still very much her own boss.
With no more state of emergency, and most restrictions now deemed unnecessary, Tokyo is slowly but surely retuning to normal. A normal that admittedly involves more masks, and more protective measures in shops and bars, but with each passing day, the city rather miraculously feels more and more like it used to do.
With this in mind then, students are heading back to school, and many workers are once again dealing with long and arduous daily commutes. For some of course it’s a welcome return, as isolation, domestic issues or the simple lack of a fixed schedule mean that home based life isn’t for everyone. At the same time, however, statistics also suggest that for many, remote working or learning was mostly positive— the starkest indicator of which being that in April, suicides were down 20% compared to the same time last year. A reminder, if indeed it were needed, of the sometimes enormous pressures of work and societal expectations. Something Japan does both very well, and very badly.
But for now at least, the old way is seemingly still deemed the best way, so once again it’s back to commuting, and back to clock-watching.
What this local government employee’s official job title is remains a mystery. Is he a squeak consultant, specialist or even a connoisseur? But whatever it is that’s written on his business card, there can’t be many better jobs than cycling round the city, trying out all the swings, then rather precariously de-squeaking any that aren’t perfectly smooth and silent.
