Sourcing in Japan Day 1: Kobo-san Antique Market at Kyoto's Toji Temple
Behind the scenes of: my latest sourcing trip through Kyoto and Okayama. Come and find treasures with me that others overlook.
People often ask what sourcing vintage Japanese pieces actually looks like. The truth is unglamorous and wonderful in equal measure. Early alarms, hours on your feet, countless cups of green tea, and quiet moments in dusty back rooms examining pottery that most people walk straight past.
I spend several weeks in Japan each year, usually split across 2-3 trips. Here's what one of those weeks actually looked like.
This is where the week begins. An early morning, a heavy bag, and the first market of the trip: Kobo-san at Toji Temple, Kyoto.
👉 This is Day 1 of my Sourcing Week in Japan series. Six days of markets, suppliers, and finds from Kyoto and Okayama.
5:30 AM - My alarm goes off in my small Kyoto hotel room near the station. The sun is already up. The Kobo-san market at Toji Temple happens on the 21st of every month, and if you want the good stuff, you need to be there early.
By 6:30 AM, I'm walking to the temple grounds. The five-story pagoda looms in the distance, catching the first sun rays. This market is huge. Over 1,000 stalls sprawl across the temple grounds and spill into the surrounding streets. Antiques, pottery, textiles, old tools, plants, food stalls. It's organized chaos.
7:00 AM - The real treasure hunting begins. I move slowly through the rows, scanning. My eye is trained now. I can spot quality from across a stall. Vendors are already setting up, unrolling tarps, arranging ceramics on blankets.
I find three yunomi tea cups, cream-glazed with that soft Hagi-yaki texture. A vendor has a box of vintage incense burners. I examine each one, checking for cracks, testing the weight, photographing details.
9:00 AM - By now, the market is alive. Locals, collectors, tourists. I'm carrying shopping bags, my notebook filling up with measurements and prices.
The best find of the morning: a singing bowl with incredible patina. Deep bronze, resonant tone when struck. The striker and cushion are intact. I ask about provenance in broken Japanese. Where did this come from? How old? Any maker's mark? He shows me the signature on the base, explains it came from an estate sale in rural Kyoto. We settle on a price that reflects its history.
12:30 PM - Five hours in, my feet hurt, but I've found gorgeous pieces. Two chawan, five yunomi, three incense burners, that singing bowl and four lovely kokeshi friends.
I grab a taiyaki from a street vendor - warm fish-shaped pastry filled with sweet red bean paste. Standing there eating it, watching the market’s energy, I feel that familiar mix of exhaustion and excitement.
Day one: mission complete
Am I tired? Yes.
I’m back at my hotel at last when I write this, accompanied by several bags of treasures and even more stories and encounters with friendly sellers.
I can’t wait for these lovely items to arrive in Europe and I can make people happy with them.
But first, the onsen awaits.
Why I do this?
I could source online. Through Japanese wholesalers, auction sites, intermediaries. It would be easier.
But that's not the point.
I do this because these pieces deserve to be seen in person. Because context matters - knowing where something came from, who owned it, why it's special. Because the relationships matter. The collectors and shop owners who trust me don't sell to strangers on the internet.
I do this because when I hold a tea bowl, feel its weight, see its glaze in natural light - that's when I know if it's right. You can't get that from photos.
And honestly? I love it.
❤️ The early morning markets. The train rides through Japan’s rural countryside. The conversations in broken language. The friendly faces. The moment when you find something extraordinary that gives you butterflies.
