A Postcard from Tokyo

Here we are, in a hotel room in Takamatsu, Japan on the island of Shikoku, on the final night of our three week adventure. We’re celebrating our first anniversary of Tasty Postcards and toasting with a glass of sake. Kampai! We had fully intended to do more than one post during our time here, but honestly we’ve been so on the go and the time has flown by so fast, that it was now or never. Believe me, there’s a lot to unpack and we’ll share more about this trip when we get home. And our feet will have had a moment or two to recover from all the walking we’ve done. Our first day in Tokyo we logged in over 22,000 steps! Frankly, we’re a wee bit tired!

But not too tired to share a bit about why we came to Japan at this particular time of year - Sakura! Cherry Blossom Season.

In Japan, they take this season to the next level. Cherry blossom everything, everywhere. And believe me, there are cherry trees everywhere — not just in parks, they’re tucked into narrow side streets, in front of towering office buildings, alongside railroad tracks, literally everywhere where there’s a speck of soil, even in many places where it seems they’re growing out of the sidewalks.

People gather in viewing parties, picnics large and small, under and around the flowering trees. It was raining the first day we ventured out, and there were even groups of people gathered under the trees with umbrellas. This yearly tradition is deeply woven into the culture and celebrated in festivals across the country. It also heralds the arrival of cherry-blossom-flavored everything: ice cream, sake, floral-colored rice balls on skewers, Starbucks sakura lattes, flavored Kit-Kats, the list goes on.

We arrived in Tokyo on April 1st, with dreams of experiencing the blossoms in full bloom. Unfortunately for us it was cloudy, rainy, and windy, and we both worried that we might have missed it —if by morning the blossoms would all be on the ground. We had dreamed about this trip for years, planned for months, and were finally here. Mary Anne, especially, had been looking forward to this moment for as long as I can remember. Like many things surrounded by this much hoopla, I tend to be cautiously skeptical, although I do confess I enjoyed the limited edition “Sakura Bloom “ gin we found a few days later in a grocery store.

At long last, on day three, we found ourselves in Shinjuku Gyoen National Garden, a fifteen-minute walk from one of the busiest train stations on the planet. We marveled at all the activity around us as we were gently showered with soft pink petals. And just like that, everything shifted. The rain had passed, the sun was out, and there were cherry blossoms everywhere, on the trees, drifting through the air, carpeting the ground. The park was filled with people, and somehow we had managed to claim a bench at the edge of a wide meadow, surrounded by trees in full bloom.

The park was alive. Cameras, everywhere. Families pushing strollers, groups of office workers, couples, tourists, everyone gathered by the trees. Tarps and blankets spread carefully on the ground, shoes arranged neatly at the edges. Picnic baskets open, revealing bento boxes like so many tiny jewel boxes.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many people taking pictures at the same time, adjusting angles, stepping back, forward, framing branches against the sky. Smiling faces tucked into the blossoms. People taking selfies alongside strangers offering to take pictures for one another. The smiles were not just for the camera, it seemed as if everyone was truly in a state of rapture.

Mary Anne was completely in her element. I watched her move through it all, camera in hand, noticing the details others might pass by. The way the light filtered through a cluster of blossoms. Children chasing petals like butterflies. Women in full traditional kimono moving through the crowd.

And we joined in. It was impossible not to. At some point, the line between observing and participating disappeared. We were taking pictures, laughing, asking someone we didn’t know to take ours, and returning the favor. For a moment, it felt like everyone was connected by the same simple impulse, to hold onto something beautiful, even if it only lasted for a moment.

Like the blossoms themselves, I had the realization that these moments are fleeting.

Whatever skepticism I arrived with drifted away with the fallen petals. What remained is a shared kind of joy that doesn’t need translation. And as I watched all of this unfold, I realized that maybe this is exactly what we came here to experience.

A place where strangers smile at one another, where people pause to appreciate something that belongs to all of us. Where, without quite realizing it, we become part of the scene we came to see.

Maybe it’s more than just the blossoms.

Out of the blue, I’m reminded of a class I took in college, “Landscape Appreciation.” I enrolled hoping to boost my anemic grade point average, thinking it would be an easy “A”. And it was. The professor said as much on the first day, “Just show up”. But over the course of the semester, he offered something more. In a series of simple slide presentations, he shared how in urban environments well designed public spaces can provide something we all need, whether we are aware of it or not. A moment to be with ourselves and with others in a way that brings us together, a shared humanity.

Sitting in that park, I began to understand what he meant.

It’s easy to feel awe standing alone on a mountaintop. However, not everyone can get there.

But a park belongs to everyone.

And for a few hours, under a canopy of blossoms that may already be gone, we all found our way to the same place of beauty and wonder.

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