Food and Drink

Tokyo’s old and traditional little bars are genuinely wonderful places to visit and spend some quality time in. There’s the joy, the banter and perhaps more than anything, the invariably advanced age of the owner. All positives of course, but the latter in particular offers the addition of extra wisdom and life stories, plus a refreshingly carefree attitude when it comes to hygiene and even heating.

The downside, on the other hand, is that every visit could well be the very last visit. Admittedly this is arguably true of any establishment, but when the sole person in charge is in their 70s, 80s and sometimes even 90s, there’s sadly only so long they can physically sustain the workload. And so one day the shutters come down, the demolition crew arrive, or as in the case below, the bar is simply stripped bare.

Back in February, I wrote this to accompany a series of photographs depicting some long-defunct vending machines:

“Japan is well known for its vending machines. With good reason too, as despite the ever-increasing number of convenience stores, the vending machine is still ubiquitous. Yet seeing one that’s no longer operational, let alone left to rot, is surprisingly rare.”

The ubiquity of such machines, of course, is most definitely still true, but the rarity of busted and forlorn looking examples, it turns out, is very much open to debate, as on walks in the last month, I’ve had the genuine pleasure of seeing the sad beauties below.

Just over 3 weeks ago, I made what turned out to be my last train journey and bar visit of the pre-coronavirus era, as shortly afterwards, it became apparent that Japan was not going to avoid the pandemic, and with photo work having already dried up, staying near home seemed both the safest and most sensible thing to do.

Now, of course, Tokyo is in a state of emergency, and after an initially slow, worryingly indifferent start, more non-essential shops and services have started to close. Bars, on the other hand, don’t have to, but they are expected to finish up at 8pm, with last orders for booze at 7. A move that really doesn’t make sense, but it will reduce the amount of people out socialising, meaning that in a roundabout way it may well prompt owners to shut up shop anyway.

By the time this is all over then, it’s inevitable that a fair few drinking places will have ceased to exist, particularly the city’s old, local bars, which are invariably run by the old, and sometimes even the unbelievably old. Similarly, it’s also possible that having gotten out of the habit, the number of people going for post-work drinks instead of heading straight home could be greatly reduced.

That said, such discipline won’t exist within every drinker, and regardless of how long the state of emergency lasts, or indeed how many places actually re-open, it’s hard to imagine the bloke below being content to quietly cradle a beer back home.

The fella in the photographs was a barber until he was 50, but he didn’t like it, so he became a bar owner instead. A job he has done ever since. For the last 24 years to be exact. Cooking and serving behind the little counter below.

Those are the simple facts, but how long he will continue to be open for business is far less certain. His age of course is a factor, but with Tokyo residents now being asked to refrain from socialising in the evening, and a lockdown surely inevitable, it’s not hard to imagine that once the pandemic is over, lots of little places like this will sadly never open again.

Now and again it’s still possible to see a slice of Tokyo life that allows the past and the present to fit comfortably in one frame.

Some standing bars are horse-shoe shaped. Others are packed beyond belief. Plus the odd one or two are simply very small indeed.