Kamiza and shimoza: the seat you take says something before you do

Walk into a reserved room at a Japanese restaurant with colleagues and watch the first ten seconds. Nobody sits down. There is a brief, wordless negotiation about who goes where, and it resolves so quickly that a visitor usually misses it entirely.

The seat farthest from the door

The system has two names: kamiza (上座), the upper seat, and shimoza (下座), the lower seat. The working rule is distance from the entrance. The place deepest in the room, farthest from the sliding door and the traffic of staff carrying plates, is kamiza, and it goes to the guest, the client, or the most senior person present.

The seat by the door is not a punishment. Whoever takes shimoza is the one who catches a server's eye, passes the menu down, keeps an eye on the bill, and stands up whenever someone needs to get out. It is a job, and the youngest person in the group usually takes it without being asked.

Where the alcove changes the math

In a tatami room, look for the tokonoma (床の間) — the shallow recessed alcove holding a hanging scroll and often a single seasonal branch. Kamiza sits in front of it, with the alcove at the honoured guest's back. The reasoning is old and plain: the finest thing in the room frames the person you most want to honour. When a room has both an alcove and a door to reckon with, the alcove decides.

Taxis follow the same grammar

Four people and one taxi: the seat behind the driver is kamiza, the front passenger seat is shimoza. Same principle — the front gives directions, watches the meter, and pays. Meeting rooms repeat the pattern, with kamiza on the side facing the door.

The order is less about rank than about who absorbs the inconvenience.

As a visitor you will often be waved toward kamiza whether you want it or not. A light demur — iie, iie — and then sitting is the expected ending. Declining once is polite. Declining three times turns a courtesy into a negotiation.

入口からいちばん遠い席が上座、いちばん近い席が下座です。