Food and Drink

Quite why I find them so appealing isn’t easy to explain, but there really is something special about old and disused vending machines. Each one seems to have its own distinct personality, or at the very least a sort of quiet dignity. All of which is utter nonsense of course, as in reality they are simply decaying metal boxes, and yet somehow, in some way, they are also a lot more than that.

Now, whether there’s any truth in any of that is very subjective to say the least, but for me, the beauties below contain elements of everything I’ve tried, and likely failed, to articulate. Slightly older edits of a couple of the photos have appeared on Tokyo Times before. A few of the machines have too, although these are newer, or previously unpublished shots. The others are recent finds. Discoveries that, in their own inexplicable way, made the day they were stumbled upon way more memorable than it would have been otherwise.

The owner of the shop below started the business when she was 40 years old. Back then, penny sweet shops would have been fairly common, but as out of place as it seems today, a lot of little kids still enjoy going in. This big kid liked dropping by too. Whether I went in alone, or with clients on photowalks, the warm welcome and ready smile were always the same. The only thing that really changed was the old lady’s age. It tended to vary. Sometimes she was 91 or 92, and on other days it was 93 or 94. Also, she once told me she was going to call it a day at the end of the year, but of course come the following January, she was happily open again as usual.

Unfortunately, my fairly regular visits stopped due to the pandemic, but looking online one day, I read that she’d passed away. Hardly a surprise of course, but the shop still seemed to be open, so I wasn’t sure if the stories were true or not. Then, when walking by last week, I spoke to a local who confirmed that she had indeed died. Last year if he remembered correctly. Perhaps more surprising was confirmation that the shop is still going, as the daughter has now taken it over. That said, on this occasion at least, the quiet scene and closed shutters seemed appropriate, and yet at the same time it was a long life, and one that was spent doing what she clearly enjoyed doing. Longevity is a bit of a lottery of course, but managing the latter is definitely something to celebrate.

After months of continually extended states of emergency that mostly affected the nation’s bar and restaurant industry, restrictions have finally been relaxed, and life is once again a little bit more like it used to be. This may change of course as we head towards autumn, but for now at least, the option of enjoying an evening out is on again, and as my last outside drinks were on Christmas Day in the alleyway below (photos and audio here), it seemed entirely fitting that the first foray of 2021 should be at the same, wonderfully unique location.

With the lights, the drinks and the elaborately bouffanted hosts and hostesses, it was likely all very different the night before. In the decidedly less than forgiving light of lunch time the following day, however, the glamour had most definitely long gone.

The first photograph was taken over 12 months ago. It was quiet then, and it clearly has been for many years — the one-time shopping element of the street having long since gone. Nowadays, it’s almost entirely dated little karaoke bars, and the faint warbling of the generally older men who frequent such establishments can usually be heard. Tokyo’s virus-related and seemingly endless state of emergencies, however, have sadly changed even that, as none of the places were open when I took the second photo just recently. That said, with the number of vaccinated rapidly increasing, and infections seemingly under control, the suitably melancholy sound of enka will hopefully return once again.

This old Tokyo off-license has fascinated me for years. From the signs to the crates to the suitably askew awning — there’s just so much to like and take in. The trouble was, the shutters were almost always down, and even when they weren’t, there was never anybody about. Until last week that is, when the owner finally appeared, and with his retro helmet, traditional apron and trusty Honda Super Cub, it was all suddenly well worth the long wait.