Entering old living rooms

I don't know exactly when I stumbled upon the term Kissaten (traditional Japanese coffee shop, often described as a tea-drinking shop). What I remember is that I wrote down the location of a specific café for my trip to Tokyo in 2019 because the glimpse of what I could see on some hidden Blogspot page was that it looked like something out of a Studio Ghibli movie. So as not to spoil it too much, I didn't look for any more images of the place (and there were not a lot of photos to begin with).

Living in Germany and entering a specific Kissaten in Japan was a very strange experience, especially in that context. When I entered the Monozuki in Nishi-Ogikubo for the first time, it was as if I was all of a sudden transported back to a place somewhere familiar, like something out of a kitsch Heimatfilm. The place was stuffed with old cuckoo and chiming pendulum clocks on every wall. The whole decor was almost too overwhelming. The entire café was built of rustic dark brownish wood, and there were sets of vintage cups, old telephones, and so much unique equipment for coffee-making. A young woman was sitting in one corner as the sole other guest besides me, who might have been the owner's daughter.

At first I felt like an intruder entering an old living room. The place was so personal, so private. I even felt somehow guilty trying to reach out for the menu. Every item you could see had a long history. You would probably search a whole lifetime finding a vague copy of that cup over here or the coffee grinder standing on the shelf over there. After the owner approached me and I ordered a light-roasted cup of coffee, I suddenly was at ease. I knew that I had found a very special and magical place. A place that oozed history and a story. Something that was truly one-of-a-kind. This was the moment I fell in love with the unique atmosphere of Japanese retro cafés, and I wanted to visit many more....