ストリートビューで思い出の場所へ訪れ、その場所にまつわる話を書くことにした。
In these times when I can't go anywhere, I decided to visit a memorable place on Street View and write a story about it.
NANPO / Japan Vol.2 -
ここは実家の近所にあったハンモック屋さんで、小学生の頃よく家族と散歩がてら遊びに来ていた。
ここのお店をやっていたナンポーさんはデッドヘッズ※1のおじいさんで、いつもグレイトフルデッドのTシャツ姿に特徴的な丸いサングラス、サファリハットを被りチャーミングな笑顔で迎え入れてくれた。周りには住宅しかなく、地元の人しか通らないような場所にあった異質なお店で、店内の中央にはハンモックが吊るされ海外から買い付けてきた見た事もないおもちゃが並び、常にグレイトフルデッドの音楽がかかっている。そんな彼に会いに色々な大人たちがカウンターでコーヒーを飲みながらナンポーさんの昔話や、音楽の話を聞いていた。
当時流行っていたSchottライダースのブート品を中国で大量に買い付けし大阪のアメリカ村で荒稼ぎした話や、ブロン※2にはまり摂取する効率を上げるために鍋で大量のブロンを煮詰めアメ玉にしていた話、10代の頃アメリカ村で知り合った金持ちの男から数百万預かりまだ日本になかったLouis Vuittonのカバンをパリに買い付けに行った話など、小学生の自分には意味が分からない話もあったが大人が笑っている姿を見てつられ笑っていた。（今思うと小学生を目の前にどんな話をしているんだと思う。）
ある時どうやってこのお店が成り立っているのか気になりだした。このお店で商品を買っている人をほとんど見たことがなかったからだ。ハンモック屋さんなのにハンモックを購入するお客さんを一人も見た事がない。買ったとしても数百円の海外のオモチャや、トランプ、ほとんどの人はコーヒーだけを頼み長居していた。それからはナンポーさんの漫談よりもそっちが気になるようになっていった。
ある時コーヒーを飲み終えた男性が「じゃ帰るよ、お会計」と言いナンポーさんに数枚の紙幣を渡した。コーヒー1杯に対して数枚の紙幣を渡している姿に頭の中が？？？？になった。それからお会計をするお客さんを注力して見ていると何度か同じような光景が目に入った。子供ながらに何か見てはいけないものを見た気がして家族にも聞けずモヤモヤしたのを覚えている。
数年後カナダで生活をしていた時、家族からナンポーさんが犬の散歩中に事故で重傷を負い、それから数ヶ月後に亡くなったという知らせお受けた。お葬式が終わり常連のお客さん総出でお店の片付けをする事になったらしく、お店にあった雑貨や、ハンモック、おもちゃなどを片付けているとカウンターの下からゴミ袋パンパンに入った大麻が見つかった。その話を聞いて小学生の頃に見た紙幣を渡している光景の合点がいった。
ナンポーさんにはもう会うことは出来ないが実家に帰省して店の前を通るたびにこの出来事を思い出す。今となってはあの店で何が行われていたかは容易に気づく事が出来るが、子供の頃に見たその光景はインパクトが強く今だ鮮明に覚えている。
- Rest in peace Nanpo san. -
※１デッドヘッズ - グレイトフル・デッドを追い続けた熱狂的なファンの総称。
Deadheads - A general term for enthusiastic fans who have followed the Grateful Dead.
※2 ブロン - コデイン、咳止めシロップ。 BRON - Codeine, cough syrup.
This was a hammock shop near my parents' house, and when I was in elementary school, I used to come here with my family for a walk.
Mr. Nampo, the owner of the store, was an old dead-headed※1 man who always welcomed us with a charming smile, wearing a Grateful Dead T-shirt, distinctive round sunglasses, and a safari hat.There was a hammock hanging in the middle of the store with toys that he had bought from overseas, and the music of the Grateful Dead was always playing.
Many adults came to meet him and listen to Nan Po's stories about the past and music while drinking coffee at the counter.
There was the story of how he bought a lot of Schott riders, which were very popular at the time, in China and made a lot of money in Osaka, the story of how he was addicted to BRON and boiled a lot of BRON※2 in a pot to make candy balls in order to increase the efficiency of ingesting it, and the story of how he received several million dollars from a rich man he met in Osaka when he was a teenager and went to Paris to buy a Louis Vuitton bag, which was not yet in Japan. When I was a teenager, I received several million dollars from a rich man I met in the American Village and went to Paris to buy a Louis Vuitton bag, which was not yet available in Japan. (Thinking about it now, I wonder what kind of stories I'm telling in front of elementary school students.
One day, I started wondering how this store was established. I hadn't seen many people buying products at this store. Even though it was a hammock shop, I never saw anyone buying a hammock, and even if they did, they were just buying foreign toys that cost a few hundred yen, playing cards, and most people just ordered coffee and stayed longer. From then on, I was more interested in Nanpo's comedy than his stories.
One day, after finishing his coffee, I saw a man handing Mr. Nanpo a few bills, saying, "I'm leaving now. The sight of him handing over several bills for a cup of coffee made my mind go to ？？？？ I was so excited. Then I focused on the bill and saw the same thing several times. Even as a child, I felt like I wasn't allowed to see it, so I couldn't ask my family about it and was bewildered.
A few years later, when I was living in Canada, I was informed by my family that Mr. Nanpo was seriously injured in an accident while walking his dog and passed away a few months later. I was very disappointed because I had a strong impression of him among all the adults I had met in my life and I wanted to meet him again when I came back to Japan to talk.
After the funeral, it seemed that all the regular customers had decided to clean up the store, and when we were cleaning up the miscellaneous goods, hammocks, toys, etc. that were in the store, we found a garbage bag full of marijuana under the counter. Hearing this story, I understood why I had seen him handing out bills when I was in elementary school.
I can't see Mr. Nanpo anymore, but whenever I go back to my parents' house and pass by his store, I remember this incident.
It's easy to realize what was going on in that store now, but the impact of seeing that scene as a child was so strong that I still remember it vividly.
Street view memoir -
Jimi House / Canada,Vancouver Vol.1
高校を卒業してから半年後、カナダのバンクーバーで1年間生活をしていた。その1年の間、5回も引越しをすることになる。エージェントに騙されて入居した日差しが１ミリも入らない半地下の部屋や、ひょんな流れで住む事になったダウンタウンど真ん中にあるタワーマンションの29階、同部屋だったオーストラリア人のワキガに耐えられなくなり退去したシェアハウスなど、色々な家を転々とした。
その中でも１番印象に残っているのが、知り合いに紹介されて入居した３階建てのアパート。バンクーバーの中で最も治安の悪いEast Hastings Streetの近くにあり、目の前の道には注射器が散乱し、玄関の入り口には鉄格子がついる。それ故家賃が死ぬほど安かった。20人ほど住んでいたが風呂トイレは共同でそれぞれ２つしかなく、夜になると覚醒剤でヨレたホームレスの叫び声が聞こえ、廊下ではネズミが走り回り、隣の部屋でセックスが始まるとベニヤ板くらいの厚さで仕切られた部屋の壁が目視でもわかるくらいたわむような家だった。でもそんな日本では体験できない劣悪な環境を毎日楽しんでいた。
雨季が終わった6月のある朝、家に面している通りから聞こえる「ジミハウス！ジミハウス！」と連呼する声で目が覚めた。窓を覗いてみるとアフリカ系の４人組の男性たちがマップと家を照らし合わせ「やっぱりここだ！」と叫び抱き合っていた。何が起きているのか全く理解できず、シェアメイトにその話をしてみると「え？知らないの？ここの家は元々ジミ・ヘンドリックスが住んでいたんだよ。」と言われ驚いた。
ジミ・ヘンドリックスは幼い頃、家庭の事情でバンクーバーにある祖母の家で生活をし、その祖母がこの家の一角でレストランを営んでいたらしい。その建物が現在はシェアハウスになり、庭にある謎の小屋がJimi Hendrix Shrine として祀られ6月から8月の間は一般公開されていたのだ。
その日からの３ヶ月間「ジミハウス！」という観光客の声で毎朝起こされるようになったのもいい思い出だ。
About six months after I graduated from high school, I lived in Vancouver, Canada for a year.
During that year, I moved five times. I moved into a half-basement house where my agent tricked me into moving into a share house where I didn't get a millimeter of sunlight, a 29th floor apartment in a tower in the middle of downtown, and a house I moved out of because I couldn't stand the armpits of an Australian guy I shared a room with.
The one that left the biggest impression on me was a three-story apartment I moved into after being introduced to it by an acquaintance. There were about 20 people living there, but there were only 2 toilets and 2 bathrooms, so the rent was very cheap.
It was a house where at night you could hear the screams of methamphetamine strung out homeless people, rats running around in the corridors, and the walls of the rooms separated by plywood so thick that you could see them flexing when sex started in the next room. But I was surprisingly enjoying such a poor environment, which I could not experience in Japan.
One morning in June, after the rainy season had ended, I heard a voice from the street facing the house: "Jimi House! Jimi House! I woke up to the sound of a voice calling out, "We're here! I looked in the window and saw a group of four African-American men comparing the map to the house, "I knew we were here! They were screaming and hugging each other. I had no idea what was going on, and when I mentioned it to my sharemate, he said, "What? You don't know? Jimi Hendrix used to live in this house. I was surprised to hear that. Apparently, Jimi Hendrix had lived at his grandmother's house in Vancouver when he was a kid for family reasons, and she ran a restaurant in this corner of the house. The site was turned into this share house, and the mysterious shed in the garden where he used to bask in the sun was enshrined as the Jimi Hendrix Shrine, which was open to the public from June to August. For the next three months, the house was open to the public almost every day, "Jimi House! I have fond memories of being woken up by a tourist who said, "I don't want to be woken up.