Generally, when one thinks of Cebu Island, the image that comes to mind is the sea. Pouring sunlight, white sandy beaches, refreshing sky. This is certainly not wrong. However, Cebu Island is not covered solely by its aspect as a sea and resort destination. The area with the airport is Mactan Island. Resort hotels are densely packed along the coast. Heading west from there, and crossing a large bridge, you eventually reach Cebu City. It is the second largest city in the Philippines. However, from our perspective, having lived in Japan, "second largest city" seems to be a misnomer, and it actually feels like there's only a small town.

However, it's surprisingly comfortable. Perhaps it's because it's a city composed of a free-spirited culture and people who are rough around the edges but good-natured. About 80% of the journey by taxi to the center of Cebu City feels like a slum, but there's absolutely none of the hustle and bustle of Tokyo. Thanks to this, I feel as if the poison has been drained from my heart, and I've returned to my true self. It's that kind of place. Since coming here, my health has somehow improved, which might also be due to the relaxed atmosphere of this island.

Once you get used to the food, it's reasonably delicious, and there were no particular inconveniences. However, sometimes I still crave Japanese food. There are many Japanese restaurants in Cebu, so I visit one a few times a week. That day, by chance, I found a Japanese restaurant near the condominium I'm currently renting and casually dropped in.

I entered the somewhat dimly lit restaurant. The space had a Filipino style, with a noticeable color scheme primarily featuring the slightly muted green unique to Southeast Asia. There was a black bar counter, but despite being a Japanese restaurant, it had an atmosphere that somehow mimicked a European space. The tables, placed without any particular order, conveyed the high degree of freedom characteristic of this country itself. In a corner of the room, there was a small CRT television, unusually showing a Japanese program.

I took a seat and opened the menu. I immediately ordered the "Ginger Pork Set Meal" that first caught my eye. While waiting for the food, I opened my iPad and read manga. Normally, in Japan, food would be served at the table in about 10 minutes or so, but here in Cebu, Japanese common sense just turns into mere distraction. Had about 20 minutes passed? "Did they forget my order?" Just as I started to suspect, the food finally arrived. That's what they call "Philippine time." But for some reason, I didn't get irritated.

The lady appeared about 10 minutes after I started eating the Ginger Pork Set Meal. I was focused on my meal and don't clearly remember when she appeared. She started speaking with a somewhat stern expression, saying, "Welcome."

"You know, I want this place to be everyone's kitchen."

"A kitchen?"

I couldn't immediately understand what she meant, and I paused.

"Yes. If there's anything you want to eat, just bring vegetables or meat, and I'll cook anything for you. In fact, you're welcome to come even if you don't have any particular business. You can read manga books around here, and we also show Japanese programs, so you can come to watch Japanese TV. This is that kind of place."

If I had been the kind of person who would miss Japan after a few months, I might have shed tears. It was a very charming presentation, but perhaps the regrettable thing was that I already had extensive experience living abroad. However, her words, "everyone's kitchen," brought me an overwhelming sense of relief that I probably wouldn't have experienced in Japan. It was as if she was telling me that this place could be my own.

After that, she talked a lot about the educational situation in the Philippines, universities, and her son. The ginger pork I was eating was still delicious. She was truly a person rich in knowledge and experience, someone who had accumulated a profound life experience, and even though it had only been a few tens of minutes since we started talking, I felt as if I had caught a glimpse of a part of her life.

Because we ate while talking, nearly an hour had passed by the time we finished. It was a meaningful meal. I stood up, paid, and left the restaurant. From behind, I heard voices saying, "Have a good day," and "Come back anytime." I made eye contact with another customer sitting near the exit. He looked a bit intimidating, but he returned my gaze with a superb smile. I smiled back and opened the door. The outside air had settled to a perfect temperature, which was enough to make me feel like it was a good day.

On the way home, I thought.

What a new and flexible restaurant it is.

Japanese restaurants basically have fixed menus, and if you order a menu item at a fixed price, you get the same dish as in the picture. That's almost everything. No, not just Japan. Restaurants all over the world have menus, and if you order, you'll get a fixed menu item. Furthermore, free entry and exit are definitely disliked, and that's why no one enters or exits a restaurant whenever they want without any particular business.

But what about the Japanese restaurant I encountered this time? It's completely the opposite. Certainly, there's a menu, and you can order. But if you bring ingredients, they'll cook freely for you, and entry and exit are also free. You can use the space as you like. That's why people gather, and once they gather, it would be awkward not to have even one drink, so they'd probably order a cup of coffee. And the theme is "Japan's Kitchen." They communicate with customers as people and respond with their feelings. In a society overflowing with completely systematized restaurants, there probably isn't another place that can face customers with such flexibility.

Thinking about it as a business, there are things I wonder about, but that's not the point. I think if the system were slightly adjusted, it could become a brand new form of dining, but in this case, I felt that the Japanese restaurant was overflowing with spices that greatly enrich life for the very way of life of "living" by running a shop. Human relationships, atmosphere, community. People who support the shop, and connections between people. A culture where both the operators and the customers connect and help each other would also emerge. I wanted to see what kind of flow would result from that. Surely, if one could operate such a free space, they would be happy.

While thinking about various things, I arrived home. As usual, I greeted the security guard and went up in the elevator. During that time, I felt a warm feeling, and that was thanks to that Japanese restaurant. It was a time when I received very good hints, both for my way of life and for business.