A Town That's Just Too Disappointing: The Strange Story of Why I Feel Attached to Noborito

Noborito is a quiet town with great access. But...

I grew up in a town called Noborito in Kawasaki City.

It is in a prime location, just across the Tama River from Tokyo, 17 minutes by train to Shinjuku and 30 minutes to Shibuya. The Odakyu Line station is also a stop for the Rapid Express, the highest-grade train service excluding the Romancecar.

Nearby are Musashi-Kosugi, lined with high-rise apartment buildings, and Mizonokuchi, which is popular along the Den-en-toshi Line. Looking at the location, I really think it is blessed.

And, since it is a quiet residential area, it is actually very comfortable once you get used to it. You might think a town with such good access to the city center would be noisier, but since it is a commuter town, it scores surprisingly high in this regard.

However...

Even if I explain it this way, I suspect there are very few people in Kanagawa or the Tokyo suburbs who would agree and say, 'Yeah, Noborito is a nice town.'

That is because, considering its location, it has been left far behind by the development of the surrounding areas, and historically speaking, it has never been a prosperous town to begin with.

When I bring friends over, what awaits is their mocking laughter.

Noborito as a disappointing town

Twenty years ago, despite this prime location, all that awaited us when we left the station were three pachinko parlors and a standing-room-only soba noodle shop. Since it was annoying to be teased if I didn't explain it first, by the time I was around twenty, I started making jokes about it myself.

Naturally, there was no such thing as a station building. Just when I thought tenants would finally move into the station during redevelopment, it was only a three-story building with a small bakery, a bookstore, and a supermarket. What do you mean by 'redevelopment'? But this store actually gets quite a few customers. It's convenient, so I can't complain, but it's sad.

Anyway, there isn't a single store you'd be happy to have. There isn't even a 100-yen shop. There are few restaurants. Stylish shops are virtually non-existent. It doesn't quite go as far as 'no TV, no radio, not many cars running,' but it is a town that is strangely lacking in everything.

Forget Starbucks; there isn't even a cafe that could serve as a substitute. A Doutor finally opened 10 years ago, and I think it suits Noborito perfectly. You'd better assume you can't drink a Frappuccino in Noborito.

Give it up. In this town, you have no choice but to drink cheap coffee.

If you search for 'Noborito' on Twitter now, the only popular posts are about a Jiro-style ramen shop. It's a very edgy shop that serves noodles that look like extra-thick udon. I think it suits this town, which has no sense of style, but it's quite sad that this is all people talk about.

Shopping for anything other than daily necessities is basically done at other stations. The only people buying clothes in Noborito are retired elderly people, limited to those who have given up on fashion.

In my childhood, it was understood that elementary school students in the Noborito area bought their clothes at the Daiei in front of Mukogaoka-Yuen Station, so my clothes would end up matching my friends'. This is quite sad. And on weekends, I would run into those same friends at Daiei.

This Daiei has unusually low ceilings. And it's dark. It's also terrifying that this Daiei was ranked 12th on the TV show 'Ad-machi'. I have never seen a Daiei ranked on 'Ad-machi' anywhere other than Mukogaoka-Yuen.

As an aside, Noborito and Mukogaoka-Yuen are less than a 10-minute walk apart, so it's fine to think of them as almost the same town.

Furthermore, for the neighborhood grandmas, 'supermarket' is synonymous with Daiei, so no matter which supermarket they are actually going to, they always say, 'I'm off to Daiei.' Is this really the suburbs of the city center?

McDonald's?
We didn't have such a thing until I was in eighth grade. When we said 'hamburger,' we meant Dom-Dom Burger. This shop is often the butt of jokes, but in Noborito, it's actually quite a treat. It is an undeniable fact that among our limited options, it was one we were actually happy to choose.

Once you leave, your hometown—disappointing parts and all—becomes something you feel attached to.

However, it's strange; when I talk to friends from back home, a surprisingly large number of them seem to feel that they don't want the Noborito they've known to be lost to the ongoing redevelopment.

I am the type who thinks rationally, so I believe it's good to have an environment that is even a little more convenient and makes life even a little more enjoyable, but it seems many people view Noborito as the sum of all its inconveniences and disappointments.

I don't have an attachment to the disappointments, but they are part of its character. Even though it's not very popular despite its location, I do think that home is where you make it.

It has been six years since I left Noborito, and when I visit occasionally, the townscape is gradually changing in a generic direction. I don't feel the nostalgia of returning home, yet it doesn't seem to be evolving as a town either, which I sometimes find a bit disappointing.

For me, Noborito is the only town I can call my hometown. I suspect it is also the only town that could be poked fun at this much. In the end, I do have an attachment to it.

I had actually intended to start by talking about what kind of town Noborito is and then branch off into another topic, but my introduction became too long, so I changed my plans for today and talked about Noborito as a town to me.

What is your hometown or place of origin like? I don't know how many people can explain a mountain of disappointing things about it like I can, but there is no doubt that for me, my hometown is the kind of place that serves as a topic of conversation over drinks.