Japan: Cup Noodle Museum

While on holiday in Japan, I kept a detailed series of notes in honour of Nanowrimo.  All posts about Japan comprise excerpts from my journals. 

7th November 2013

"This morning, we head to the Cup Noodle Museum which I'm thoroughly confused by.  What does one display in a Cup Noodle Museum?  We already know what cup noodles look like.  So, there are displays of cup noodles, walls and walls of them in fact, but the entire museum is really a monument to the man who invented them, Momofuku Ando.

The building is, itself, architecturally pleasing with a clean red, white and wood aesthetic.  Because cup noodles are so mundane and kitschy, the spacious, airy design concept makes a lot of sense.  Of all the museums we've been to, this is the most popular one.  Children come out excitedly clutching sealed bags of cup noodles that they've flavoured and designed themselves.  It's one big noodle party.

We see all the different iterations of instant and cup noodles over the years and watch an animated documentary about Ando.  Perhaps the most interesting thing about him was that he only invented instant noodles after a string of failed businesses at 48, after sitting in a shed for nights and wondering how to preserve the noodles and cook them quickly.  Years later, at 61, he realised that in America, the workers would break the noodles into cups and pour hot water over them for a more convenient dish, and cup noodles were born.

Outside, we walk around a replica of the shed that Ando used for inventing, complete with a massive vat of oil so that he could fry up batches of noodles at any time.  I am impressed by how neat it was, and yet how self-sustaining.  There was even a coop of chickens outside just in case an egg was needed on the spot.

I am most excited by Ando's six rules of innovation and business.  It's cheesy but they are fairly inspiring.  It is inspiring to think of people finding their groove so late in life when I have not particularly found mine.

According to him:

1) Discover something completely new

2) Find hints in all sorts of places

3) Nurture ideas.

4) Look at things from every angle

5) Don't just go with the status quo

6) Never give up

Upstairs, the ramen making workshops are in full swing.  Children are frenetically colouring on the styrofoam cups after putting in the flavouring of their choice and in then blowing up the plastic packs and vacuum sealing their cups inside.  Behind a glass screen, women in snakeskin heels and Nissin bandanas lead their kids in the act of kneading ramen dough.

We don't make or buy any ramen, but it's a quirky experience just the same, and I'm stupidly happy to see that someone with such an inane claim to fame is being remembered.

We walk to the pier afterwards, hoping to take a short cruise around the bay, but the only available ones are far too long.  Instead, we sit on a softly bobbing platform watching the boats come and go.  The water is a deep slate blue-grey and so impossibly briny that it's making my mouth water.

We take a slow walk along the boardwalk and talk to some of the old men fishing there.  One of them shows us a tupperware of gloppy, pink shrimp and the tiny netted box that he spoons them into before hooking it on the end of his fishing line, which is also strung with three tiny neon hooks  They don't seem to be having any luck, but they don't seem to mind either, chatting and leaning comfortably as they wait for non-existent bites.

Further out in the water,we can just about see the splashes of fish leaping about in the waves and the seagulls taking full advantage, swooping and mantling low over the water before sinking their claws in.  When the wind starts picking up and we can feel rain drip through the leaves, we retire to the nearest cafe for coffee and cake.

The rest of the evening is leisurely... we're leaving tomorrow.  I've really enjoyed being in this little town with "nothing to do".  Life feels good slow and easy, although I guess right now it can't be like that for always.  Tomorrow, we're back in Ginza for a couple of days before it's  back home, back to work, back to reality (oh, there goes gravity, oh, there goes rabbit...).  I'm grateful for the extra chances to rest, but I also think that Yokohama in itself has been pretty reviving.

I would love (love!) to come back to Japan, but I don't know if I'll ever see Yokohama again.

Tonight, I'll lie in bed and watch the rainbow lights blink and swirl on the ferris wheel and feel grateful and glad that I got a chance to be right here, but also, to envy (just a little) the lucky person who gets to be right here after me."