Who Reads This? — A Mysterious Local Magazine ― 2026/08/08
There are quite a few magazines focusing on local issues, such as horseracing, fishing, food. As far as I know, every single library stocks a couple of these locally published magazines. They are almost always available, meaning hardly anyone takes them home, whereas national magazines are rarely available for loan.
Among these publications, the most mysterious one is "Zaikai Sapporo" (I would translate it as "Sapporo business community").
I have never seen any of its back issues on loan. Even elderly gentlemen who seem to be regulars at the library and eagerly read newspapers don't seem to have an appetite for it. Without exception, every issue sits on the shelf.
Out of curiosity and in the hope of finding useful local details—since I mainly get my local news from supermarket flyers—I borrowed a copy. I found the contents surprisingly varied. A single issue covers:
- Local government news mainly on newly appointed managers,
- Local corporate updates, featuring salary comparisons by job category,
- Interviews with local figures, including entrepreneurs, entertainers, sports personalities,
- Newly opened and recommended restaurants, mainly in Susukino, never Makomanai.
- Newly opened and recommended restaurants, mainly in Susukino, never Makomanai.
- Property ownership and investments
...and much more.
It is so broad, almost chaotic. Who is the target audience? I have absolutely no idea, and I didn't find anything useful for myself either. It doesn't matter to me who took management positions in the local government (though an article about the flamboyant mayor of Asahikawa was interesting, reminding me of his counterpart in Fukuoka).
I wish my local library would subscribe to Geijutsu Shincho or UP instead. That might actually attract new and younger visitors, or me, at least.
Local Celebs #1 ― 2026/07/25
Every time I get on the subway, I run into this guy on the train door, smiling and apparently promoting Hokkaido rice. I see him all the time, but I have absolutely no idea who he is.
And I don't even know what the Hokkaido word "食べらさる" means.
And I don't even know what the Hokkaido word "食べらさる" means.
Today's Little Achievement ― 2026/03/03
The streets are mostly dry now, with piles of melting snow along the sides. You still find some slush here and there, but it’s no longer as dangerously slippery as before.
And... let me brag a little: For the first time since moving to Sapporo in mid-January, I walked to the city center today in normal shoes—no spikes or Vibram soles required! Hooray! It took about 30 minutes, but I’m sure I’ll get there faster once I’m more familiar with the route.
No Longer Safe Haven ― 2026/02/21
Back in Fukuoka, yet another stabbing incident occurred—this time at the local library I used to visit every week.
A 61-year-old man stabbed two visitors, aged around 80 and 50, and a security guard in his 70s (Yes, in Japan, people of that age sometimes work in this sector, but that's another story).
I was shocked that even the library could become the stage for such a sinister incident. At the same time, part of me had a feeling that it might happen one day in this area, which seems prone to unexplainable crimes, where a socially marginalized person attacks ordinary, innocent people for no particular reason.
February Light ― 2026/02/20
Just look at that February light...
Although I have lived in this northern city for only one month, the soft February sunlight feels special, reminding me that the long days of snow and cold are coming to an end.
A Real-Life Manga ― 2026/02/01
Many sidewalks have become narrower and narrower because of the snow. I somehow didn’t realize that snow wouldn’t go anywhere until spring. It just keeps piling up higher and higher.
I wonder who was the first person to walk through and pack down the snow. Great local pioneers!
But this one is better — the path is relatively wide.
Sometimes there are “one-person-only” paths. I remember seeing scenes like this in a classic manga, “Dōbutsu no Oishasan” (The Animal Doctors). It feels very Sapporo.
Look at the characters in the manga: they’re wearing normal clothes, unlike me, not dressed like Antarctic explorers.
They’re even wearing regular shoes, which I now find very manga-like — and somehow very Sapporo too.
Coffee at Kura-Zushi ― 2025/10/16
Chocolate cake and coffee: 360yen at Kura-Zushi
I’ve found that Kaiten-zushi restaurants could be great places to sit down for a quick break during off-peak hours — without disturbing their business, and without spending a fortune. A win-win.
The cake wasn’t bad — at least it didn’t taste like it had just come out of a freezer. I’d say it’s better than the ones you sometimes get at the somewhat sad-looking cafe corners tucked into libraries or city halls.
What’s interesting about this place is how minimal the human interaction is. You order, receive your items, and pay — all through a screen in front of you.
That means you won’t feel awkward for not ordering sushi. No one notices, no one cares. You’re just another fragment of data in the system.
And that anonymity? It feels like freedom. A comfortable isolation.
A Life, Discarded ― 2025/10/10
Yesterday, I witnessed the aftermath of someone dying alone. This made me realize that my own life could end the same way one day.
One floor below us lived a man, probably in his seventies, recovering from a stroke. He told us that he had moved into the apartment complex around two months before we did. Then, suddenly, a team of professional-looking people arrived and started working in his room. It didn’t seem like a typical move-out. To my eyes, it seemed much harsher and more brutal: everything—from shoes to instant coffee—was shoved into plastic bags, rather than
the cardboard boxes that removal companies usually provide. There was no protective wrapping for furniture or appliances. There was no sign of care or respect for the person or his possessions.
Later, a neighbor quietly told me that he had died from a third stroke. Thanks to the sensors installed in his apartment, the anomaly was detected quickly—but not quickly enough to save him—he was found dead before further tragedy could occur. In other words, I hate to say it, before decomposition had begun. The workers I saw were actually clearing out a room that had remained untouched, as if he were still living there or expected to return.
And this morning, I saw his belongings piled high in the trash area, just as ordinally rubbish to be burnt away. That was the moment I truly understood his life had ended—and that one day, the same could happen to mine. My favorite tableware, the clothes I’ve spent a fortune on, and even the flash memory devices that contain fragments of my life will all be treated as garbage. I never knew how impermanent a person’s existence—and the traces of it—could be
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