About three and a half years ago, we moved from Germany to Japan with our then 18-month-old daughter.
Being first-time parents was already an adventure. Adding a new country, a new language, unfamiliar food and a different healthcare system gave us quite a lot to figure out at once. And honestly, even now, it often feels as though we are still in the middle of figuring it out.
But we love living here. We found a home in a wonderful Tokyo neighbourhood, where people welcomed us from the beginning, even while we were finding our feet with unfamiliar customs and ways of doing things. These days, a simple shopping trip usually comes with at least one familiar face, a friendly hello or a quick chat.
Those small encounters have become a lovely part of feeling at home.
A few things we missed
My husband and I both grew up in Germany, and that is where we began our lives as parents. Alongside everything we were discovering in Japan, there were familiar things we missed—and plenty of questions.
Those questions became especially lively when our son was born in Tokyo. How are newborns dressed here? Where could I find a cosy wool liner for the stroller? And why did so many babies seem perfectly happy without socks, while I was instinctively reaching for another pair?
Raising children in another culture makes you notice things you might otherwise never question. What feels obvious in one place can be completely different somewhere else. I have often admired the patience of parents I see on Japanese playgrounds, and it has made me reflect on my own reactions, too.
There was so much to learn from and enjoy. But we still missed a few things.
The grandparents, of course. They remain rather difficult to fit into a suitcase.
And then there were the smaller things: wooden toys of the kind we remembered seeing more often in European shops. Cosy German Wollwalk clothes made from boiled wool for winter. A soft wool liner tucked into the stroller.
Our children love Anpanman. There was simply room in our family for that joy alongside the materials, colours and objects we had grown up with.
“We’ll have that in our little Kaufhaus one day”
Whenever one of us said, “I wish we could find this here,” the other would joke: “Well, we’ll have that in our little Kaufhaus in Tokyo one day.”
Kaufhaus is the German word for department store. Ours was, at that point, entirely imaginary.
But the joke kept coming back. Over dinner, during conversations about the children, whenever we came across another thing we would love to share here.
Before long, our imaginary shop had a name: Kaufhaus Kobold.
The Kobold was inspired by Pumuckl, the little mischievous character we remembered from childhood.
From a dinner-table joke to something real
While we were expecting our third child, I decided not to return to my previous career. It would have meant a substantial amount of travelling and time away from my family, which I no longer wanted.
I still wanted to do something of my own, though.
Once our youngest started daycare, I finally had some time to give that persistent little idea my attention. The joke became a concept. Then came months of research, decisions, learning and building.
I had never started a business before. I built Kaufhaus Kobold from scratch, figuring things out as I went. It has been quite a journey, and there is still plenty I am learning.
Today, I am incredibly proud—and excited—to have reached the point where I can share some of those “I wish we could find this here” things with families in Japan.
This is also what I hope to share in these Stories: the reasons behind the things in the shop, the people who make them, thoughts about play, and discoveries from family life that sometimes take us well beyond the shelves.
Thank you for being here at the beginning.
Janina