First half is Showa, second half is Reiwa.
I live in Yōga(用賀) and my friends came here to visit me, so we went to Poem(ぽえむ) Coffee House: an old-fashioned Showa-style cafe that was very clean and tidy, always with fresh flowers. It was run by an elderly gentleman who dressed smartly, even a bit fashionably.
As usual, I followed tradition and ordered from the recommended options. We got two single-origin coffees: a light roast Mocha and a dark roast Mandheling.
Then we waited for another friend and began our three-person sento experience. The sento was actually right next to the cafe, named SakaeYu（栄湯）, an old bathhouse with a complete Showa vibe—high ceilings, all the facilities old-fashioned. Generally, places still managed by elderly folks have a certain quiet yet stubborn atmosphere.
Finally, I had the experience of hanging out at a sento with a few friends, just like in a Japanese drama.
This little activity near home was mostly because one of my friends had a small tattoo and had been hesitant to try a traditional Japanese sento, fearing they might be refused entry. But I had seen people with full-body tattoos and large tattoo sleeves at this one, so it seemed like they had moved past the old restrictions. After all, it’s part of the community.
While cooling off in the changing room, we heard the sound of fireworks—hanabi (花火) —booming in the distance. The fireworks festival—hanabi taikai (花火大会)—is just too important; even with a day of drizzling rain, it went on. The Setagaya Tamagawa Fireworks Festival(世田谷区たまがわ花火大会) event committee had reminded everyone to bring umbrellas and wear raincoats.
The hanabi were just a station away, but unfortunately, buildings blocked the view, so we could only catch glimpses. Still, the booming sounds really added to the atmosphere, especially while strolling through the small streets in the light rain.
Our destination was a small pizza shop, named Cona Yoga, one of those “hidden gems” that I love—cheap and delicious. I particularly enjoy these kinds of places in Japan, run by a few young people. Watching them work in sync, diligently doing their jobs, gave me a sense of reassurance and silent inspiration.
To me, the best way to enjoy Italian food in Tokyo is at a small eatery. The ingredients are good, and the owners put in a lot of effort, so not only does the food taste great, but it also has that strong sense of “everyday life.” To me, the most important thing about Italian cuisine is the rich, bustling street-life feeling—just like I imagine the streets of Naples.
The last stop was a small craft beer bar named Cal Time. I had fallen in love with craft beer thanks to a friend, and I’ve since tried to share that passion with others. Tonight, I talked quite a bit about the wonders of craft beer. Luckily, both beers we tried were excellent, which made my case more convincing.
Speaking of which, the 70 IBU beer managed to subdue the blood orange added to the IPA, creating a very balanced taste—a surprising experience. Though it seemed that Cal Time’s beer prices had gone up a bit again.
It felt like a delayed farewell to summer—coffee, sento, fireworks, pizza, craft beer, and light rain. It was the kind of encore that felt luxurious, making life feel full and abundant.
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