The Lasting Legacy of a Japanese Confectionery Haven

I just finished reading Days at the Morisaki Bookshop, a novel by Satoshi Yagisawa. Aside from inspiring me to add Jimbocho to the growing list of places I want to explore in Japan, it reminded me of a small Japanese confectionery shop I stumbled upon while walking around the Hikifune neighbourhood in Tokyo on a hot summer day.

Initially, I thought the shop was closed, and I was content taking pictures of the place from outside. However, soon after, a father-daughter duo stopped by the store. Despite my nonexistent grasp of Japanese, I gathered that the father was trying to convince the daughter to go into the store alone. She seemed shy, and I assumed that photographing the store with them in front of it made her even more so.

Japanese Confectionery Shop at No. 24-8

So, I put my camera down and slipped through the store’s sliding door. The inside left me in awe — It’s like I stepped back in time.

More than thirty years ago, my aunty had a similar confectionery shop in Medan, Indonesia, where she sold all kinds of candies and homemade cakes. This store reminded me of hers, only much more vintage. if it’s even possible

Well, as I learned from Lee, my Japanese-speaking photo walk teacher, who engaged in small talk with the owner, it turns out that the store was established half a century ago and is run by an 81-year-old gentleman who took it over from his grandmother thirty years ago.

Around the same time, the girl finally found the courage to enter the store. Not wanting to make her uncomfortable, I quickly picked the first familiar-looking candy for 25 Yen (25c AUD), before thanking him and leaving.

It was a beautiful serendipity for this encounter to be replicated in the book, with the IRL Japanese confectionery shop transformed into the fictional Morisaki Bookshop — it’s the closest I could get to living a fairytale in Japan.

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🍬 — KK