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Aritsugu

"When you go to Kyoto, you have to visit Aristugu," Shinsuke Hokiyama, owner of a company that produces Sakon told me. "It's the oldest knife shop in Japan, and I supply 10,000 knives a year," he added with a typical smile.

I learned from Shinsuke's story that Aritsugu was founded in 1500 and still works today. This means that it is most likely the oldest cutlery shop not only in Japan, but probably in the world. In his voice, I registered the well-deserved pride of the supplier for such a well-chosen place. Well, there was something else. Something like inner disappointment or rather guilt. And then it came. "Terakubo-san requires more than 10,000, but our capabilities do not allow us to do so," was the reproach so typical of the Japanese.

I didn't need more and I immediately incorporated a visit to Aritsugu into my Kyoto program. With traditional Japanese care, Shinsuke drew a plan for me to get there. “Sakura blooms, so finding a hotel in Kyoto is impossible. But don't worry, Terakubo-san himself, President Aritsugu, has booked the Kyoto Central Inn, which is close to his shop. Don't forget to bring him your great liqueur / Demänovka: -) /, it will please him. From Seki Hashima, you can get to Kyoto by shinkanzem in less than an hour. In Kyoto, get on the Hankyu line and get off at Kawaramachi Station. You will find your hotel there. "

I will not dwell on the description of Shinsuke's itinerary, it was simply Japanese. It contained streets, traffic lights, descriptions and names of buildings ... only a jerk would miss it. After wandering around the local streets for more than an hour, stopping groups of young people I expected to know English, I was glad to have enough time for this item on my agenda. After a few instructions from greedy Japanese, I found myself at the local market. It was formed by an infinite number of narrow intersecting alleys. Passing shops offering everything from bamboo shoots to dried fish to electronics, I lost the last bit of hope. After all, there CANNOT be a shop from the 16th century here! I therefore began to slowly reconsider my priorities. After all, finding a way back to the hotel will please me, I don't have to have everything. And that's where it came. On the right side, an inconspicuous facade of a small shop with an even more inconspicuous wooden sign appeared to me. ARITSUGU!

The first impression was disappointment. So I've been looking for this for an hour and a half? It's a shop smaller than my office. I may not even fit there. But slowly, anger and exhaustion from endless wandering began to leave me, and my senses returned to duty. Suddenly I saw a lot of tourists admiring heaps of top knives . Everything had a system and order. Those who have already chosen a knife have watched as an experienced craftsman sharpen it on an extra fine abrasive stone . Then they moved on to another master, who engraved into the blade the name of the future owner in kanji characters. The whole process was completed by tastefully wrapping the knife and handing it over.

"I'm looking for Mr. Terakubo," I told the first free vendor. He measured me with a surprising expression, asked for my business card, and disappeared somewhere in the back of the shop. He came a moment later with a gray-haired old man wearing a red apron. I introduced myself, but my name obviously didn't impress the old man. I tried differently: "Shinsuke Hokiyama is sending me." Nothing again. Oh, I got it! I opened the bag and picked out a bottle of demänovka. The old man came to life: "Ahhh, Hokiyama-san ..."

The fact that President Aritsugu took me to grace was evidenced by the fact that he moved with me to a side place where we had such privacy. I thanked him very much for booking the hotel and launched a waterfall of questions that I prepared. The young salesman willingly undertook interpretation. I learned that the customers, in addition to tourists, are the most respected Japanese chefs , that knives are sold exclusively for cash , no payment cards or checks are accepted, that demand constantly exceeds supply, that due to very strict criteria to become a supplier is a prestigious matter .... Of course there were more questions, but it turned out that Mr. Hokiyama's recommendation and a bottle of demänovka have its borders. Terakubo-san bowed politely, thanked me for visiting, and hurried to the grindstone, where several knives were already waiting for him. President - non-president, work will not wait. But before that, he placed a small box on the counter in front of me. I know that in Japan it is not decent to unwrap a gift in the presence of the donor, so I just respectfully thanked him:"Arigato."

It was already dark outside and a cold wind was blowing. Full of experiences, I stopped at a street buffet for a cup of hot ramen. I eagerly unpacked the small box. I found in it small knife in a case on which four numbers were proudly grouped: 1 5 0 0