How a shared passion project (and a lot of fighting) saved this marriage

Japanese chef Kazumasa Yazawa, 41, and his Thai-Chinese wife Thana, 45, were living in Jakarta when COVID-19 hit. Fearful they’d die, they made a radical call: to move with their daughter, Sora, to small-town Tasmania and open a B&B.

Kaz: My father had a mental breakdown when I was 16 and took his own life; I ­discovered him. I moved from Japan to Australia for a fresh start and trained under Tetsuya Wakuda in Sydney. When he opened a restaurant in Singapore [in 2010], he sent me to work there.

I met Thana in a wine bar. I was 26 and having a good time. She helped me style my new apartment and we got along. I wanted to get serious, but she wasn’t ready then and dumped me. We met again about a year later. She came into my restaurant and I told her to go away. We talked eventually, though, and I asked her to design my next apartment. That was a real passion project for both of us. We still got along and I realised I still had that special feeling for her.

We got married in Singapore in 2014 and had a ceremony in Bangkok a few months later. We come from different cultures, so it was tricky. My mother didn’t like the way Thana greeted her at the airport. It wasn’t anything specific; my mother was just being difficult. I told her, “You can’t ruin my wedding.”

Thana is a strong character. She studied ­political science in France, then did interior ­design, so has a European way of thinking. When I was asked to open a 120-seat restaurant in Jakarta in 2015, she supported me 100 per cent. It was a stressful time, doing weddings, prime minister visits, lunch and dinner service. I was always angry. At 3pm, I’d walk to the shopping mall and have lunch with Thana, then go back at 5pm for dinner service.

‘It made me realise my whole life had been my career, and what I was missing.’

The long hours were not conducive to getting pregnant, so we did IVF to have Sora [now seven]. When COVID-19 hit, we fled to Osaka and Kyoto for a few months. It was the longest holiday of my life. I played so much with my daughter; it made me realise my whole life had been my career, and what I was missing.

Thana started looking for houses in Tas­mania, which we’d visited on holiday, and found this old house in Geeveston. In Japan, nobody wants a 150-year-old house! I struggle to make decisions – even designing a menu is hard for me – so Thana made the call to buy it. She makes decisions with 120 per cent certainty.

We moved here in 2021 and opened our home, Cambridge House, as a B&B. Later, we added a Japanese restaurant in the dining-room. We fought. I’d never chopped wood, cleaned, changed rubbish bins – I’d had teams to do that. I also had to learn that, with having a child, the focus wasn’t on me any more. It was the hardest time, but we’d invested too much to go back.

Now we lead a more meaningful life. I get my inspiration from rainwater, a bushwalk, while Thana likes to sit and read. We fight over small things; we each think we are the boss. The way she supports me, though, is a true act of love. I respect her way of persisting. She doesn’t whinge like me. If you show rather than tell, then one day the person will realise what you’re saying. I’m in the process of realising.

Thana: All I noticed about Kaz when we met was that he wore nice jeans. He’d come with me to buy things for his apartment, and that’s when I started noticing his face. He’s a few years younger than me, and I’d never looked romantically at someone younger.

He cooked me dinner to say thank you and I noticed the effort he put in. It wasn’t the ­technical things that impressed me: it was the feeling of being taken care of. It’s hard for me to commit, though, so I cut it off. When we met again, he seemed more grown up. He brought me food when he came to see how the apartment was going. Food is my soft spot.

I was born with one ear and my grand­mother told me it was because my mother didn’t want to have me, and hit me when I was in utero. I later learnt that this wasn’t true but, as a child, it made me feel like an outsider. I shared this with Kaz, told him how I wanted aliens to come down in a UFO and take me away. I felt trapped and didn’t want to be here. He was the only person who listened to all this without judging me. He probably didn’t understand, probably thought I was mad, but he listened. I said to him, “Should we get engaged?”

The wedding ceremony was difficult. I think his mother was afraid I was a Thai lady looking for a better life, but that wasn’t why I was ­marrying him. He’d spent his last $20,000 on speakers before we got married, anyway. When I heard the tragic story of his childhood, I realised Kaz could feel trapped inside like I did, but he had been able to get out of himself and share unconditionally. That’s hard to find in another human being.

‘We decided if we were going to die, we wanted to breathe first, be free, live differently.’

My father would not let me go to art school. Kaz knew I loved drawing and his first gift to me was a huge set of coloured pencils. It was the first time someone had supported my dream unconditionally. When we went to Japan, I wanted to get a digital sketch pad. He said, “Just buy it.” He never questions what I want to do. I was neutral about having children, but Kaz wanted to. This was my turn not to question.

When Sora and I got COVID in Jakarta, life suddenly felt fragile. We decided if we were going to die, we wanted to breathe first, be free, live differently. When we got to Geeveston, we dumped our suitcases and ran to the park across the creek, which I’d seen on Google maps. It was the first time Sora had played on grass in bare feet.

Before I was in the shadows: it had been my job to support Kaz mentally, to help fix his frustrations, because he’s a perfectionist. Now it’s more equal. We fight, but we don’t pull out from what we have. He used to think I was ­always taking Sora’s side on things. I had to explain that parenting is about educating: don’t take it personally. He complains less now. It’s no longer the two of us, it’s the three of us. If one of us stands up and rocks the boat, we all suffer. We are one unit.

twoofus@goodweekend.com.au

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