Where Seattle Meets Japan: From Pike Place to the Kobe Bell
This summer, I took a short trip to Seattle—partly to explore, partly to reset. What I found there surprised me more than I expected.
I stepped into Pike Place Market, expecting crowds and clam chowder. What I didn’t expect was how much it reminded me of Japan, not quietly but through its vibrant energy.
The market was full of life. Voices bounced between vendors and visitors. People laughed. The place pulsed with movement.
What struck me most wasn’t the action or the flying fish. It was the structure of the market itself. Narrow alleys packed with food stalls, energetic fishmongers, and colorful displays of fruits and vegetables. It all brought back memories of traditional Japanese markets. Not the ones inside department stores, but the small local ones near train stations or tucked into older neighborhoods.
There was a rhythm to it all. A vendor calling out. A customer replying. A smooth exchange of goods. The pride in how the tomatoes were arranged. The care in choosing the best fish. That felt very familiar. That was Japan to me.
As I wandered, I thought more about the deeper connection between Japan and Seattle. It isn’t only about food or market energy. It’s historical.
Japanese immigrants once made this city their home. They worked hard, built communities, and added to the culture of Seattle. Then war came, and they were forcibly removed. A pause. A wound.
But today, a different message rings out.
Near Pike Place, I saw the Kobe Bell—a gift from Japan after the war. It doesn’t shout. It stands quietly, but powerfully, as a symbol of peace and friendship. It reminded me that even after hardship, something meaningful can remain and grow.
At Asho Sora, we care about these kinds of moments. A place filled with movement and color can still hold memories. A city can carry the weight of the past while celebrating the present.
Pike Place doesn’t try to be Japan. But in small ways, it remembers. And sometimes, remembrance itself is a form of beauty.