This shop was very much a part of the old covered shopping street. The buckets of pickles spilled out onto the pedestrian area, and the owner, who always seemed to be open for business, was always working away at something or other. There was the smell too, which was as distinctive as the colours, and noticeable from a considerable distance away.
Sadly I have no idea how long it was there for. To interrupt the old fella and bother him with my questions somehow felt wrong. Plus being several train journeys from home, buying some of his produce as an excuse to speak was never really an option. There again, it felt like the shop would always be there. Something to marvel at each and every time, and something that also offered a weird sense of comfort with its continued presence.
But of course that couldn’t always be the case. How could it? The number of bars, businesses and homes I’ve seen disappear or become derelict of late amply prove that. As did the scene below, when I was walking along, expecting to stroll past the old pickle shop once again.
Richard says
It seems as if some things will never change. Then poof. They are gone!
Thanks!
Lee says
I know eh? There one minute, gone the next. It was a very unwelcome surprise to say the least…
ellen says
I can guess you must have been shocked. The last pic hits hard…………. 🙁
Lee says
I really was. And yeah, that empty bit of street sums it up…
Stephan says
I love the first shot a real loss the guy isn’t there anymore.
Lee says
Cheers. Very fond of that photo. Even more so now. And yeah, it’s very sad to see him and the shop gone…
cdilla says
The afternoon of Thursday 9th April 2015 was when I saw this guy for the first time. (I keep journals of my visits). The walk down the whole “joyful” street was something special, so different to the other more conventional places we had been (and also enjoyed), but I remember stopping here to watch the guy working and wondering why the veg looked to be covered in sand (lol, it was miso paste of course as I later learned). He wasn’t the only one on the street preparing the foodstuffs they were also selling. It was an experience that really set me up for searching out the older, homelier side of Tokyo, which in turn led me here, which in turn led to Lee showing me more places and sights like this.
Change is the way of things, but somehow more in Japan than in the UK, the legacy of multigenerational family businesses gives you a false (if comfortable) sense that things will always be just so.
I was imagining today what it must be like to be one of the countless kids from the nearby schools for whom that street was/is a daily part of their lives growing up. The sights, smells and sounds baked into their memories.
Lee says
I’d been in Japan quite a while before I found this street and my feelings were exactly the same. It was just like stepping back in time. Still get that even now, although obviously not to the same extent.
I didn’t realise this area had such a big impact on you, but I completely understand why it did. Always so nice when you find something new and interesting, and then realise there’s loads more in a similar vein to find and enjoy. Very glad I could help in a little way with that too.
That’s a very good call on the family businesses. Such a pity many have hit their last generation. Further up from where the pickle shop was there’s a fruit and veg shop. The parents run it while the kids hang about at the back and play. Always wonder if they’ll continue with the business, but very likely they won’t. Sure the kids will always have fond memories of it though even if they do go a different route.
GeniG says
I understanding change is somewhat unavoidable but this is still sad to see.
But let’s assume the owner got a nice amount to sell his plot and is now retired with plenty of cash to last his lifetime 🙂
Lee says
Yeah, these places simply can’t stay open forever, but it still always hurts to see them go.
That is a nice, positive thought. We should definitely go with that one!
Greg Lindenbach says
I know how you feel.. had a similar experience before Christmas. Was walking down one of the tourist strips in the area and came upon a familiar restaurant, and paused at the sight of wood panels over the windows and entrance. I wasn’t expecting it- the place has been a fixture since before I arrived here, and seemingly overnight, gone. The sight was almost emotional, the flat, static absence of any activity- perhaps like so much else in this season, a sadness finding a reason to be.
Like the above poster said, one can hope that the owner(s) went on to better things.
Lee says
“ The sight was almost emotional, the flat, static absence of any activity- perhaps like so much else in this season, a sadness finding a reason to be.”
That sums it perfectly. Quite beautifully too. Something I’ve experienced quite a few times recently, but it doesn’t lessen the impact one bit.
But yeah, hopefully he’s doing well and enjoying a thoroughly deserved and long overdue retirement.