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Cuppa Kouhii?
By Sandra Barron
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I knew I was in trouble at the beginning of my college Japanese course
when the teacher said, "Japanese is easy, because we use lots of
English words. Like kouhii." Yeah. Exactly. At some point, I figured
out that that's what passes for coffee linguistically. What passes for
coffee physically in Japan is almost as much of a stretch, and is most
often found in can-displaying vending machines for 120 yen - roughly a
dollar.
Ah, "most often" is probably a blatant exaggeration. There are cafes everywhere - old man places with dank wood paneling, and young lady places with stained glass lamps and fancy sugar lumps. Either one will run you at least four bucks for a small cup, no refills. And Starbucks is huge – I was surprised to see selections and prices about the same as at home. However, a venti, while still called a venti, (or a "bente," to be phonetically precise), was only a third of the size Westerners are accustomed to. There are a few knock-off chains that look almost identical to the giant, which is lovingly referred to as Sta-ba. Excelsior Cafe is so similar it could be a parody. The old-school cafes serve a "morning set" - they throw in a small pile of shredded cabbage, a cooling half-boiled egg and some thick white toast for free, or just a few extra yen. Intriguingly, that cabbage salad is a key part of almost any "western" breakfast. But I digress. This is about the coffee that comes in a can, which the Japanese call – stay with me – "can coffee."
Even in relatively warm southern Japan, the winter chill can numb your extremities. Luckily, there are brightly glowing vending machines everywhere that sell hot drinks - you're never far from a warm can (or PET bottle, mmmm) of delicious tea, coffee or corn chowder. Sure, the hot aluminum is a little hard to hold at first, but it cools to a cozy hand-warming temp in a few minutes. Those days of playing hot potato come in handy at last!
There are a few main drink companies, (including at least one which is disconcertingly also a major chemical company), and each one seems to have an endless range of can coffees to cater to every imaginable coffee-drinking need. The names are all in English. That seems to be the intent, anyway.
There
are regional brands and seasonal offerings, and endless variations on
themes within each line. Georgia Coffee, a Coca-cola brand, makes Icy
Blend, Rich Blend, Tasty Blend, and The Blend. (Then there's Blendy, an
entirely separate brand.)
There's My Coffee, Max Coffee, Relax Coffee. And in the wear-it-or-drink-it?
category, Kirin offers coffees called Stone Wash and American Blue.
Wonda, who Tiger Woods was shilling for a few years ago (frozen, brain-washed grin, extreme close-up: "It's wondaful one!!”), has just introduced Morning Shot, in a bright red can. This fist-sized can is clearly meant to be one thing only: the fuel that shoots you on the train that whisks you to the city that sweeps you up the steps that take you to your job where you slip off your shoes and bow to your boss and wipe down the desk where you pick up your phone and pound out your work.
Best graphics go to the Boss line by Suntory - a simple, Stalinesque, pipe-chomping face. Whether you're drinking Boss Black, Boss Sharp, Boss 7, or Boss +1, it's pretty clear who's the, uh…
Anyway, at the time it seemed like the equivalent of wearing a Brooklyn sweatshirt in Brooklyn (no offense, guys), but now I sure wish I had picked up a Boss windbreaker or t-shirt.
My favorite coffee ad campaign is for the Fire line from Kirin. The posters for Fire Heart feature a trendy, passionately embracing couple shot from the knees up. The man is a popular Japanese actor, Kimura Takuya, and the woman is a foreigner, with only a sliver of her face showing. He's pouting into the camera in black leather pants; she's in a sleeveless red blouse that's whipping in the wind with her long, blonde hair. There's a red ampersand imposed over their chests.
The ad gains some context when it's posted next to another ad for the coffee that must be the yin to Fire Heart's yang, Super Fire. It's another embracing duo, same composition, in shades of blue. But wait - it's still Takuya, still staring moodily at the camera over his partner's back, still glistening with sweat. However, this time his faceless, shadowed partner is a glistening man in blue silk shorts. A boxer and his manager, or two fighters, embracing at a match (do boxers hug?). Superimposed white block letters say “Vs.”
Coffee options are tailored not just to a hankering for sweet or bitter, black or milky. They extend beyond even suggestions for drinking in the 'morning' or 'afternoon,' offering selections to complement complicated emotional/philosophical states. What is the carefully mussed actor fondly known as KimuTaku trying to work out exactly, sulking from exotic blonde embrace to manly clasp? And is the can coffee helping?
One recent coffee brand is named after a popular TV drama and is ringed with a photo of five characters looking bravely onward, outward, beyond the can. The only wording on the label is the name of the show, apparently also the name of the beverage, in big, block letters: THERE IS A TOMORROW - For when you're feeling optimistic. Or you're feeling pessimistic, but you want to feel optimistic. Or maybe you just feel like... watching some TV?
I can't think of another drink that could possibly give one so much to ponder for a dollar – and keep your hands warm.
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Sandra Barron is an award-winning freelance writer living in New York City. She is currently working on several projects related to her recent trip to Asia. Responses to this article may be sent to mail@methree.net.
© 2003 Me Three