11. Chapter: Arashiyama in Steady Rain and the Story of Yamatoya

Today marks the first full rainy day, so I might as well continue my story.

Of all days! It was supposed to be, as always on the second Sunday in November, the Momi-Ji, the traditional autumn festival with a boat procession on the river in Arashiyama, western Kyoto, featuring people in traditional costumes from courtly times, theater, and dance performances celebrating the colorful foliage, but now everything was literally washed away; it poured like buckets all day long!

Since the weather never dampens my spirits, I went anyway, hoping to find scenes reminiscent of the famous woodblock print by Utagawa Hiroshige (1797 – 1858), “People on the Bridge Surprised by Rain,” and that's exactly how it was.

The landscape by the river with the colorful mountains behind, the many people with umbrellas, some in festive attire and kimono, the raindrops on the green shimmering river made my photographer's heart race, and although I was completely soaked after a short time despite my umbrella, I took a long stroll and saw many of the places and views we had discovered six years ago with bated breath. I had originally planned to finally take the boat ride we missed back then, but it was too wet for that today, just as it was for the monkey rock, but that will come later. It's truly wonderful to have enough time to revisit all the places you enjoy at least twice! And the different sceneries in various weather conditions and seasons are so appealing.

But it was indeed too wet, and I finally gave up hope for the Momi-ji and preferred to go into a newly discovered cozy ramen place. On the table was a kind of spice jar filled with a clear liquid and several whole fish, and I couldn't resist trying it: it was vinegar, but I have no clue what those fish are doing in there.

And then the story of Yamatoya: This café or bar named “Jazz&Whiskey” I discovered through reports from one of my favorite pianists, the Frenchman Thomas Enhco, who has produced a lot in Japan and shared on his Instagram account that he sometimes plays in such a small jazz café in Kyoto. That was long before I first traveled to Japan, but I made a note of it.

When I first stepped through the door, my heart nearly stopped: an ancient couple, stylish furniture, a piano, a whole wall full of vinyl records, two top-notch gramophones that continuously play alternating records, and two huge speakers resembling large corner cabinets, all in mahogany, producing a truly heavenly sound.

The role of the lady of the house is to select the music from the vast collection and ensure that the other turntable immediately continues when one LP side finishes. She also takes orders at the tables and brings the drinks. She speaks only a few words of English, like “where from?” and then presents each guest with a small origami crane she folds herself. I have an entire collection, as I became a regular there and spent many hours.

The old man is the ruler of the whiskey collection (Japanese whiskey tastes very good!), a great jazz connoisseur, and the coffee master. On the shelf behind him are many lovely collectible cups, each different, and when someone orders coffee, he first chooses the appropriate cup. Then he grinds the coffee, separately for each cup, in the red mill on the counter, brews water, places a filter on the cup, and pours the hot water slowly over it; it's a proper coffee ceremony, and I always enjoy watching him do it.

He doesn't speak a word of English but smiles affectionately and is pleased to see how everyone enjoys the music, the drinks, and the atmosphere.

The daughter, who also helps sometimes, speaks quite good English, and so I could tell her about Thomas Enhco and how I ended up there. They immediately dug out all the records they have by him and played them, even those that were only released in Japan and that I didn't have myself. The daughter was also very interested in Finland, as her friend had just been there and apparently reported specifically about salmiak. 😂

When I traveled to Kyoto for the second time in spring, I brought the couple some records of Finnish jazz, Iiro Rantala, Jukka Perko, and Lenni-Kalle Taipale, and for the daughter some different salmiak and licorice pastilles. They were so surprised and a bit shy, and the next time I dropped in, they handed me the Japanese records of Thomas Enhco that I didn't own yet, with an inscription he had written for them, so it was a real treasure!

This time, I also brought salmiak again but haven't seen the daughter yet.