A peek inside Japan's largest “Dagashi” store
It's always bittersweet when I visit Japan and come across old establishments or traditions that an ageing proprietor or volunteers are trying to keep going. You can see the love and spirit they have for it, but it often looks like something too disconnected from the interests of young people and the vicissitudes of the changing economy to survive for much longer. A <i>kissaten</i> (old-style cafe) owner in Nagasaki who shared stories and gave me an umbrella (apparently his practice); a jazz bar owner in Sasebo who stays open so as "not to disappoint patrons who might show up", even though he doesn't really get enough business to justify it due to the waning of interest in jazz in Japan. Their low popularity also means they don't charge high prices.<p>It's a huge contrast with the anonymous, impersonal service you get in big cities and chain stores; a similar anonymity you get all over the world wherever poorly-paid workers don't have a stake in the businesses they work for. The difference is a profit motive versus simply enjoying a practice or being a place for community. Both get shoehorned into the concept of a "business", but they're worlds apart. And in a climate of increasing rents, individualistic places tend to die out, barring the occasional dagashi vendor that manages to reignite community interest in its offerings.