Japantown Center is a bustling, bonafide vibe
The historical space satisfies a deep nostalgia for shopping malls that lurks in the soul of every millennial.
By M. T. Eley
I find myself returning constantly to the Japan Center when I have no other particular place to be.
The three-block Brutalist edifice with its five-tiered peace pagoda is fascinating in all the right, aimless ways. The well-worn sixties-civic interiors, filled with electrically vivid colors, make-believe bridges and cartoon characters, satisfy that deep nostalgia for shopping malls lurking in the soul of every millennial. Capitalism meets core memory.
Case in point: Daiso in the east end, a general goods mart whose prices are in yen, with handy conversion tables hung overhead. Prices seem damn cheap, yen or non, for a whole host of things that are interesting to have: seaweed punch tools, laundry bags specifically for undershirts, picnic wine glass holders, “instant boobs,” training chopsticks and a device which I am still unsure how to use but promises mysteriously to “Transform food into a cat.”
Japan Center continues in much the same vein. Within a hundred yards, you can buy a silken kimono, a bulbous Tengu mask, stuffed animals, eldritch face creams, manga, earthenware, busty statuettes and katanas, and somehow this excess of kitsch becomes strangely authentic in the electric glow overhead as you watch a chef knead udon noodle dough. If you want a place to go and pop in some so-called vaporwave, Japan Center is the place to do it.
Weekends are so packed there’s hardly room to swing a Wii controller. Even on weekday nights, lines form outside the more popular spots in the west end. I’m not qualified to say if the cuisine you’ll find is authentic, but I can say with confidence that it is delicious. And really, that’s the whole strange humming energy which courses throughout the halls: is it genuine? Maybe — is it good? Yes.
There’s a historic analog to all this sentiment. “Japantown,” of course, is a whisper of a story stretching back to the 1860s, a cohesive urban enclave much like others in San Francisco, violently interrupted by the 1942 internment of Japanese-Americans during World War II before intersecting with another historically-fraught neighborhood, the nearby Fillmore. Both suffered unjustly from urban renewal efforts which widened Geary into a quasi-freeway and razed countless old buildings for more efficient, Eisenhower-clean beauties — one of which was the Japan Center.
Hitachi, Nissan and Mitsubishi automobile showrooms filled the complex alongside the Miyako Hotel (now Hotel Kabuki), Books Kinokuniya — still anchoring the west end — and the offices of Kikkoman International, who has traded an office presence for one at nearly every table within. Happily, the Center skewed towards books and soy sauce until we arrived at the part-food-court, part-bazaar, part-Potemkin-facade tapestry now bridging the Fillmore, Cathedral Hill and the rest of Japantown.
Speaking of bridges, there are two of note: first, the Webster pedestrian bridge which crosses the gulf of Geary into the Fillmore and escaped demolition a few years back. Now, it’s newly painted in a ruddy vermillion which recalls Shinto temples but to me more nearly matches, of course, international orange.
Then there’s the portion of Japan Center itself which spans, Ponte Vecchio-like, Webster Street. A blinking “OPEN” sign in a window suggests the appropriately named “On the Bridge” saké bar and restaurant — the curry spaghetti is especially worth a try. If you’re feeling more like ramen, keep on walking and head downstairs: Suzu Noodle House has a fantastic sesame ramen that’ll warm your bones on those rainy nights.
Beyond that, you’re on your own with no shortage of options: Japan Center has laser karaoke, crêpes, books, jewelry, vintage threads, cookware, headware, matcha ice cream, hibachi, bullet train sushi; not to mention Nijiya Market on the corner of Sutter and Webster, a well-stocked Japanese grocery store in case you’re wanting to attempt some of the cooking at home.
As for me, I’m happy to make the walk. There’s a lot to taste, see and hear in this place: one more world within San Francisco.
M. T. Eley is a San Francisco-based writer.
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