Yamagata has its fair share of eccentric cafe owners; Kadowaki-san from Tsuruoka’s Coffea instantly springs to mind, but there are countless others. Among them, no one stands out, to me at least, as much as Shohei-san from Espresso in Yamagata City.
The Man With The Armadillo
On Wednesday, I was in Yamagata City for work. I basically got paid to have a 90-minute conversation with two other Yamagata mountain lovers, we all have to pay the bills somehow. On the way there I had planned on climbing Suisho-san (literally Crystal Peak), but the weather had other plans for me.
I had a bit of time on my hands because of that, so I decided a spot of coffee fit the bill*.
Here’s an impromptu Japan pro-tip for you:
In Japan, never search Google Maps for ‘coffee’. Too often it brings up chain stores or kissaten. I’m not after that. I can make pour-over at home. So I’ve developed a little trick: search for ‘espresso’ instead.
Much better.
‘Espresso’ gives you a list of places I can all but guarantee make a coffee (espresso-based) better than me. Or at least, places that have invested in the infrastructure to do so.
However, little did I know that when I searched ‘espresso’, a place literally called Espresso would come up.
And that was about all that came up.
Espresso had no website nor social media. Just a spot on a map next to a river.
Oh, and a few good reviews, of course.
And that was enough.
To be honest, this was quite a big risk for me. I limit myself to two coffees per day lest I risk some form of addiction (ahem), and this was to be the second. If it turned out the place served sub-standard coffee, well that was it. I would have to wait until the next day to have any chance of rectifying the situation.
And then I met Shohei.
Before even entering Espresso you get a sense this place is different from normal cafes. I mean, it was in a train carriage of all things. The only thing that comes close to that that I’ve been to is the McDonalds with a literal plane in Taupo.
So I walk in, say hello, and Shohei shows me to my seat.
And then I met the armadillo.
That train carriage is chock-a-block with all manner of knick-knacks and paraphernalia. You walk in, notice the kitchen on your left, and see a small table and chairs in front of a huge opening. Outside there is a deck** under the leaves of a cherry blossom, a road, and then a river beneath a huge mountain of a rock (that I am told is not Sakazuki-yama, although it is right next to it).
And then there is the armadillo.
“An armadillo!” I proclaim, looking at the stuffed armadillo next to the table.
“You know I have an armadillo instrument?” Shohei retorts.
“An armadillo instrument?”
An armadillo instrument.
It’s called a Charango. Shohei apparently has one made out of an actual armadillo. For obvious reasons they aren’t made anymore, but Shohei has one apparently.
“Talking about rare instruments, I have one in my car you might enjoy”.
I go back to my car and pull out my conch. Shohei tells me he has never seen one in real life, let alone heard one, so I play it for him.
“Iine! That’s really cool!”
What followed was about 30 minutes of Shohei showing me his rare instruments: a singing bowl (is this even rare?), an Ainu Mukkuri, a few rainsticks, a Berimbau (the one in the picture above), and of course, a didgeridoo.
I even got a cappuccino made with real espresso!
And that’s why you should never search “coffee” in Japan.
Search for “Espresso.”
You might just meet a man an his armadillo.
* let’s be honest, I would have had a coffee either way
** try saying that with a New Zealand accent