Japan operates on its own timeline. Literally. It counts years according to the reigns of emperors, not the Gregorian calendar. As you read this, it’s year three of the Reiwa era. Even Japanese have trouble converting between the two calendars. It will be easy for those of us who have lived through the pandemic to pin its outbreak to the very end of the first year of Reiwa. Not a very auspicious start, but at least there’s plenty of room to improve, right?
This opening statement is also true of Japan’s general approach to life: it takes time to do things right (we’ll get to the exceptions). One English phrase that Japanese often say in Japanese phonetics is “my pace”. It means, in other words, to work at one’s own desired pace regardless of external expectations and it carries the additional unstated meaning of “don’t rush me”. The phrase–the thinking behind it–has found fertile ground in Japan’s culture.
The notion that all good things take time is probably easier to internalize when you’re a citizen of a great nation with a long and rich history. In the context of the sake industry, we’ve written before about how multigenerational breweries seem to take the vicissitudes of life in stride. The crisis of the day, whether that be the Great Tôhoku Earthquake of 2011 or COVID now, is but the ripple of a raindrop in the pond of history. A boon year is the brief blooming of a cherry blossom before it blows from the branch. As long as the steady march through time is an upward climb, there’s no reason to fret.
Until there is. Vaccination rollout in Japan is going quite slowly compared to other developed nations–there are complex reasons, but still… It has prompted some international residents to call the vaccination program “Operation Sloth”. Due in part to this delay no doubt, tourists will not be allowed in for the Olympics. It’s anyone’s guess as to when the doors to normal tourism will open again. Japanese bureaucracy is not known for its speed and, this time, it’s hurting the economy. Or maybe this is just another “my pace”, long-game approach. Let the economy suffer in the short term for the sake of a controlled health situation and citizens’ welfare.
Roughly 150 years ago, Japan went full throttle in a modernization effort to wrench itself out of its pre-industrial, feudal trappings and thrust its fortunes onto a global stage. The urgency of this project was existential in nature, and the pace was mind blowing, even by today’s standards of technological advance. Japan today–at least its urbanized areas, which is where most of its population resides–seems set on an equally relentless pace of advance. How is Japan both a place of “my pace” and a society that seems in perpetual hypermotion?
Our interactions with sake brewery owners and employees help us understand how these vastly different modes of living can occupy the same moment. Today’s owners have to navigate a much more complex market environment than their forebears. Borders have opened and the food and beverage space is one where international players compete intensely. Multinational corporations have an edge in many regards. Conditions change quickly and consumers are arguably more fickle. Online retail continues to modify the game.
Breweries that export as a part of their survival face an even more daunting challenge. Those owners have to make critical decisions about their importers while also managing good relationships with distributors who may have needs and demands of their own. The savviest owners also run multilingual websites, manage social media channels with international audiences, and might even offer brewery tours. Only the quick and nimble survive in this world. The number of Japanese sake breweries is dwindling because–people say–they face too much competition from beverages around the world, but it may be a case of owners not being able to shift gears.
Those owners who are faring well, though, have hardly abandoned all the ways of the past. Yuki no Bosha, whom we feature in this issue, does nothing else if not brew at “my pace”. Many breweries will condition their sake for as long as it needs to reach peak flavor. Some breweries go through the painstaking process of growing their own rice.
We talk often about breweries that combine old and new–it’s a common theme in Japan going back to the late 19th century. But the more we ponder this, perhaps it’s more a matter of fast and slow. Who can do both effectively? Most of us probably live in the realm of fast. How can we shift back to “my pace”? Sipping on sake among friends with our devices stowed away seems like a good place to start. Let the conversations take you from there.
