Balancing tradition, flexibility and a noodle shop in Japan

Jin Aizawa is a very jolly man. He has short trimmed hair and a bright smile. His energy pops. He never walks, rather he dashes, always with a purpose to please. Jin is the third-generation owner of a noodle shop. His grandparents began this family enterprise in 1927. At that time it consisted of a box on the side of the main shopping street. They would whip up noodle dishes to passers-by who wanted a quick pick-me-up on their day in town. His grandfather died before his grandmother, but she loved her customers and her shop, so she kept the place open on her own. She was successful, so in 1957, she was able to buy the building behind her small stall. That enabled her to expand her business considerably.

The shop’s name is “Sen”, which was his grandmother’s name. I asked about the Chinese character for “Sen”, but Jin told me that in those days women’s names did not use Chinese characters. They used either the hiragana or katakana phonetic scripts. So, even to this day, the restaurant’s name, “Sen,” is in hiragana.

Traditionally the oldest son took over the family business, but in this case the first boy wanted to work in a company, rather than in the family noodle shop. The family was traditional but flexible, so, that is why Jin’s mother was able to become the second owner-manager of the establishment. She and her husband worked there together until his very premature death at 50. At that time Jin was about 20. His father’s demise was sudden and unexpected, and the shock set Jim on a deep inner quest about the meaning of life and the direction he wanted to take.

“I grew up in this shop,” he told me. “I was an only child and my grandmother raised me because my parents were so busy. We all lived upstairs from our shop. I swept the floors. I watched my grandmother and mother making soup and noodles. I saw how they attentively served customers. I never had to study how to do this job. It is in my blood, in my bones. It is natural for me.”

So, even though he read and thought a great deal about spirituality and the meaning of life, and even though the life of a Buddhist monk pleased him, he opted to carry on his family business.

“I chose Buddhism above all other paths,” he told me. “All religions are good, but Buddhism suits me best. There is no god in Buddhism. Everything comes from within your own heart and mind. That is how I live. That is my way of being in the world. Now my Buddhist path is my family and my work. I do not have to read books about it anymore.”

His mother was very gregarious and loved people. So, she spent a lot of time chatting with her customers. And most of them became regulars. The grandmother was the same. The shop was business, of course, but much more than that, it was a place where everyone was welcomed and made to feel part of a family. So, people came regularly to socialize as much as to be fed.

The shop was so busy then that Jin’s mother hired helpers. One summer she hired a high school girl. Jin took an immediate fancy to her. He was 26 at that time. She was only 18, but he really wanted to marry her. And he did. A year later their first son was born.

Jin’s grandparents had built a house a bit out of the town where they went on their day off. When Jin married, he went there to live. The grandmother moved in with them. But the mother stayed in town in her apartment over the noodle shop. That was her home and she wanted to remain there. Jin faithfully rode his bicycle into town everyday for work. And the grandmother, too, went there everyday. She loved her customers and the ambiance of the shop, so could not let a day go by without visiting her old place.

When Jin turned 33, and after his parents and grandmother had died, he wanted his shop to reflect his personality. So, he closed off the first floor and opened the restaurant on the second floor, where his family had lived. He does not advertise, and the sign outside is very small.

“This way it is less busy. And it is more personal. Most customers are regulars. I know their favorite dishes. I serve them as if they are honored guests. I provide newspapers so they can stay and read if they would like. Or they can chat with their friends. I serve only about 20 or 30 people a day. That is enough for me now.”

I asked him if he wanted his eldest son to follow him. “I do not force my children in any way. It is up to them to decide what they want to do.”

But his eldest son, Kenta, has indeed followed in his father’s footsteps, but to a bit of a different beat. He helps his father serve lunch and then at night he opens the restaurant as a pub. That, too, has mostly regular customers.

Traditionally in Japan shopkeepers hold festivals throughout the year. Unfortunately, that tradition is dying out because of the spread of shopping malls. But it is still kept alive by some. Since Jin’s restaurant is in an old area of town, he and now his son are very involved in these local festivals. There is one in February called “Setsubun”. That is when people throw beans at “oni” (devils) as a way to push winter away and to plant the hope of spring. There is another in August when people carry a portable shrine through the streets, thanking the gods for good business and asking for further success.

Jin loves keeping old ways alive. But he is also very open to foreigners. Many years ago when his daughter was in kindergarten, she liked a child from Singapore. The families became friends. It was then that Jin realized English was a global language. Also his heart became receptive to ways other than his own.

For eleven years his family has had home-stay guests come every year for three-week stays. And often he opens the restaurant to parties for foreign people.

As for the future Jin says, “At 60 I think my power will be down. So, I want to let my son take over this place. Then I want to do things to help foreigners here. My English is not good. But I can communicate. I love to communicate! And now I believe the world is really one family.

“I want to volunteer my time. I can help foreigners fill out forms or go to the hospital, or even take day trips with them. There are so many things my family and I can do to help other people, foreign people. I really want to do that. I think it would be wonderful.”

One amusing way that Jin connects Japan with other countries is by becoming “Mr. Kabuki”.

“Becoming ‘Mr. Kabuki’ is my way to give back to others. There is a traditional comic character here called “Kappore”. In olden times a professional kabuki actor or a geisha would dance informally at small parties. The dancers usually portrayed comic characters. And the idea was to make everyone laugh and have a good time. So, I dress up in traditional attire with a scarf twisted round my head and a sort of kimono. And I dance around and make people laugh. That is my way to say thank you to my friends and guests.”

I asked where he learned how to dance. “I didn’t. My grandmother’s hobby was traditional Japanese dance. When I was very small, she took me to those lessons. I sat and watch. I absorbed the music, the movement, the feeling. I guess that is how I have ‘Mr. Kabuki’ in my heart. I’m a natural at being both Kappore and a soba maker. I never learned either. I just absorbed them into my being.

“My third child, Kento, (now only 8, a surprise child) is like me. He loves to give happiness to others. He helps me when I dance around as ‘Mr. Kabuki’. Maybe someday he will become ‘Mr. Kabuki, Junior’. I don’t know. I won’t force him. But maybe he will. We have the same heart, you know.”

Jin Aizawa is a humble man, but he also has tremendous pride in his heritage. His eldest son is carrying on the family tradition in his own way. He second son is like him in sentiment. His daughter is finding her way in the world of English, which she majored in.

“My life is good,” says Jun. “I am a noodle maker, but I want to follow a different path in the future. I want to connect more to foreigners. My world can only open wider and wider. I am truly a very lucky man.”

And as I was leaving, he called to me, “If anyone who reads Ode magazine comes to my shop, they will be my honored guests. Please be sure to tell them that. Don’t forget!”