Back in July last year I wrote this about an incredible little coffee shop I’d just visited in Osaka:
“Japan has plenty of old and dated coffee shops. Establishments that look and feel like they belong in a completely different era. At the same time, it’s a spell that can easily be broken by a TV playing in the corner, or even something minor like a modern appliance or menu.
This almost 80 year old establishment, on the other hand, has no such distractions. Everything from the dust and grime to the ageing proprietor takes you back to an earlier time. A business that has been in the owner’s family since its inception, and with coffee only costing ¥160 a cup, it’s very clearly love rather than money that keeps him going. For how much longer it’s impossible to say, but until the day it finally closes, it’ll remain a place that is truly like no other.”
Sadly it turns out the shop didn’t keep going for much longer at all, as on a return visit towards the end of last year, it was closed. Not just for the day either, but forever — something confirmed by a chat to the man running the shop opposite. The lovely old master, he was disappointed to say, died in August. Here then, as a way to remember, are photos once again from that very special visit, along with the scene that I found several months later.
Denise says
So very sad. 🙁
Lee says
Yeah, it really is. A special place and a really lovely fella.
Carm says
Oh no ):
Matt Kaufman says
It will be sorely missed. I am glad I got to go several times over the past few years.
Lee says
I only got that one chance but feel very lucky I did. It really was like nowhere else, wasn’t it?
cdilla says
It’s hard to find the words.
The note on the door seems(my translator) to say “I’m going to leave the business. Shopkeeper”. Succinct and sad.
Lee says
Yeah, it was terribly sad to find it closed and the master gone. I agree about the note too. Very often the case, although in many ways that succinctness makes it all the more powerful.
Jen in NZ says
Actually really poignant. I vividly remember a Japanese sensei years ago telling us the best translation of “yasumasete itadakimasu” would be “Gone Fishing” (!!) But that “Kyuugyoo sasete…” sounds so much more formal… and permanent…
Richard says
He looked content in the photo. Ironically, I am drinking my first cup of coffee of the day right now (4 am Calif time). A toast to the owner for his many, many years of good service!
Lee says
Yeah, a man who clearly enjoyed what he did, so in that sense something to celebrate as well as mourn. His passion gave others a lot of joy as well, so a ling life well lived.
Jen in NZ says
Damn. Really liked this post originally, and I hunted it down on Google Maps and saved it into a “list” for next time I go to Osaka (it’s on a train line I would really like to explore). I added a note that it might be gone by then, but fingers crossed. So, bugger. He looked lovely.
Lee says
Yeah, he was lovely. A very gentle soul. Both him and his shop were true one-offs.
Definitely a lot see and explore around there, just not quite the same without this place.
Damien says
What an amazing find. And what a dear old fellow he seems to have been. Working right to the end too by the sound of it. The country must be littered with places like this with owners who just continue turning up to open for trade each day as they have for 50 or 60 years until they no longer can, or their shops fall victim to redevelopment.
Lee says
It really was a wonderful little place, and yes, he seemed absolutely lovely.
It is, still lots left. Some still doing real business, others merely going through the motions. Time, however, is slowly but surely reducing the numbers…