When I lived in Kyoto while studying abroad in the spring semester of my Junior year, I frequented a little cafe near my host family’s apartment. I found it on Google maps (as I found most restaurants in Japan) and was immediately intrigued by the cozy atmosphere. So one day I made the 15 minute walk to the store only to discover that it was currently being used as a musical live house (a small concert venue) for a local performance and that it was temporarily closed. I found the musical aspect of the cafe interesting; it’s not every place that would let itself be used as a music venue, and from the conversation I had with the waitress the owner seemed to be a musician as well.

With renewed interest I revisited the cafe when I knew they’d be open. Outside of its front entrance I noticed a bright neon sign for Woodstock and another whiteboard advertising guitar lessons. I was initially taken aback, as I happen to be from Woodstock, NY. Woodstock is somewhat well known in the US for hosting the 1969 music festival, but never did I think I’d find it in this small residential area of Kyoto, nearly 2000 miles away! How could I not have noticed it earlier? And so after entering the picturesque cafe, with framed photographs of smiling performers with their instruments and scenes of concerts past, I decided to ask the waitress about the sign. She was the very same one who I had spoken to earlier and recognized me immediately. It’s not often foreigners come to this little cafe in the middle of suburban Kyoto, especially not ones with curly red hair! The whole place seems to be run by only 2 people, the owner and head chef and this waitress, they were incredibly kind and seemed to be good friends with the other two current customers at the cafe. I remember seeing the owner sitting at a table with an older gentleman, simply chatting. It made me feel oddly happy, to be in such a warm environment where it seemed everybody was trying to support one another, in this place where I knew merry music was made and enjoyed.

Upon asking about the sign the waitress gave me a puzzled look and told me that the sign wasn’t theirs but rather belonged to the music store next-door. I felt a bizarre sense of disappointment; I had simply assumed that since Woodstock was known for its musical history and this cafe had a musical streak that they must be connected somehow. I had never been to one of the performances this cafe hosts. I didn’t know what kind of music they played, but despite that I had hoped for a connection. In the moment I felt almost silly for bringing it up, though in hindsight it was a perfectly reasonable thing to do, I was simply embarrassed.

To my shock, however, upon hearing the name Woodstock, the older gentleman with whom the owner had been chatting with perked up and excitedly exclaimed “you guys don’t know Woodstock!?” whereupon he jumped into an excited rambling about the town and its titular musical festival in such fast Japanese I had a hard time keeping up. He was so excited when he found out I was from there. He was a big fan of American folk music, he said in slower Japanese after catching my panicked look, and especially music from the ‘60s, so Woodstock was a bit of a fascination for him. We had a nice chat about music and Woodstock, but in the end I felt like he knew more about my hometown than I did! I was filled with an odd sense of pride, both for myself for being brave and asking about the sign which led to such a wonderful conversation, and at my little hometown.

Speaking with this gentleman made me think about the connection between music and culture, and how your perception of music is shaped by the culture you grow up in. It also made me think about Woodstock in a different light, not just the town I drove through to go to the grocery store or gym, but a place with a rich musical history, a place worthy of fascination, a place that inspired others to music or art or whatever creative expression they choose. I actually ended up going to many wonderful music events with Satou-san, but that’s a story for another time.