I spoke with a local resident, Ryuhei Iseki from Rokushima Ham Brewery

Could you tell us about how you moved to Rokushima?
Iseki (honorific omitted)
I was born and raised in Osaka, but my grandparents originally lived in Rokushima. Since childhood, I returned to the island every year during the Obon season.
I played in the sea and visited relatives, exchanging greetings of "I'm back" and "Welcome home" here and there.
You don't have that kind of experience in Osaka. So, I always looked forward to spending summers in Rokushima.

I hadn't returned since my second year of high school, but after becoming a working adult, I was asked to help carry the portable shrine at the festival of Ootori Shrine, as they were short on bearers. Since then, I started visiting Rokushima every year during Golden Week.
Until then, I only knew the lively Rokushima in summer, so I was surprised to see how few people there were outside of summer.

What left an impression on me was the first time I returned to help with the festival.
The local men were gathered around a nearby drum can, drinking sake.
As I passed by, they asked, "Where are you from?" I mentioned my grandmother's name and said, "I'm Ryuhei, Harue's grandson," and they welcomed me back.
The warmth of human connection that I had almost forgotten came rushing back to me like a lightning bolt. I thought, "Ah, Rokushima is wonderful!"
At that time, I was a salesman working in Osaka. I talked to many people for work, but those interactions didn't feel heartfelt, and my days were not enjoyable.
In contrast, the conversations around the drum can with the local men were incredibly fun. It was a warm, human exchange.
I still remember the taste of the canned beer I drank that day. It was cheap, but it was incredibly delicious.

When asked what kind of place Rokushima is, people often bring up issues like "people are struggling" or "declining birthrate and aging population." I found that hard to accept.
It's a wonderful place, and I love it.
I wanted to express that in my own way, to confirm it, and I thought I wanted to do that while living in Rokushima.
Although my dream of moving didn't come true easily, I thought I would live in Rokushima someday, so I quit my job as a salaryman and attended a vocational school to learn caregiving for two years to be able to work in an aging society.
While living in Osaka, I frequently returned to Rokushima. I was also involved in activities with student interns.
In that context, I was fortunate to be able to join the Community Revitalization Cooperator program, and I moved to Rokushima when I was 32 years old (in 2016). It was about ten years after I first thought about moving.
How did you start making beer?
When I moved to Rokushima, I hadn't decided what I wanted to do. I thought I would like to decide while listening to the stories of the island's people.
What kind of life did the people who say "Welcome back" lead in the past?
As I asked various people, I learned that "decades ago, Rokushima grew a lot of barley, beans, and sweet potatoes, and there were vast barley fields."
Imagining the scene of golden barley swaying against the backdrop of the blue Seto Inland Sea, I thought, "It must have been very beautiful; I want to revive it."

What should I do with that barley? The first thing that came to mind was beer, which I also love.
I started making beer while learning at the Okayama Kibi Dote Shita Brewery, which was introduced to me through connections, and I obtained a brewing license in Rokushima in March 2019.
Making beer from scratch was challenging, but Chairman Nagahara of Kibi Dote Shita Brewery became my mentor and walked with me until the opening.
I believe my mentor taught me not only how to make beer but also the essential things that reside at the heart of a product, such as "who is it fundamentally meant to please."

In August 2019, I started this brewery and bar. Travelers and those returning home stop by.
In addition to regular beers, I also make original craft beers for the region if requested.

I created an original glass that features the black cat "Jam" walking in front of the scenery.

Doesn't it look just like the scenery? If you're lucky, you might actually see Jam crossing here.
Someday, I dream of making a beer called "All Kasaoka" using Rokushima's barley, hops from Imai in Kasaoka, and yeast from Rokushima's daffodils.
What do you think are the good points of Rokushima?
Iseki
Despite the small population of the island, I feel a much stronger sense of "connection" than when I was in Osaka.
I really love the warmth of human communication that you can feel.

Since I lived in Osaka, I have thought of Rokushima as a "treasure mountain."
Untouched nature, traditional lifestyles, mutual aid among people, and communication.
Those things can be both a hassle and a blessing, but I was sure that I wasn't the only one who desired them.
When I wanted to be alone, I would go to the lighthouse. I would drink a can of beer I had hidden in my backpack by myself. When I returned, various people would talk to me. That contrast was irresistible.
What kind of time would you like visitors to spend in Rokushima?
Iseki
To me, Rokushima is more of a place where people live than a tourist destination.
Rather than coming in large numbers and making noise, I hope that someone who feels "this is boring" can come by themselves, immerse themselves in the quiet nature, and if they're lucky enough to find a drum can meeting happening, they can be approached by the local men.
Through such interactions, I believe they can spend time catching glimpses of the essence of human warmth.
I was once like that, but during the second or third year of working life, you often wonder, "Is this how my life should be?"
For those people, I hope they can talk with the local men and think, "Ah, this is boring, I should do something different," a place that pushes that bad switch (laughs).
I think it's an island where you can learn about the "true value" of living.

From the Writer
I finally got to see the Rokushima Lighthouse and the daffodil scenery that I had always wanted to see.
Guided by the cute guide, the orange tabby cat, it felt like a fairy tale, and I was so happy.

The best time to see the daffodils is until mid-February, but after hearing Iseki's story, I thought I would like to visit regardless of the season.
I feel a bit nervous, but I would like to participate in a drum can meeting.










































