Under the pink

  Nagoya, Japan
Tuesday, April 11, 2006

The cherry blossom season arrives again and with it all those telltale signs. Parks littered with blue tarps. Trash and recycling bins overflowing. Food and drink stalls appearing overnight. Weather forecasts monitored like a hot stock on the Nikkei. Drunk salarymen passed out after marathon hanami sessions. New employees pulling all-nighters to reserve and guard the best spot for their company's party the next day. Cellphone cameras clicking away - oh wait, that happens on any given day.

But actually the spirit of spring begins a bit earlier than this, albeit in a more hushed and underrated manner. Late February to early March marks the coming of the ume, or plum blossoms, which are frankly just as beautiful (if not more so, some would argue), even if not as ephemeral. Since I neglected to make any effort to see them in previous years, I made it a point to seek them out this time around. Mayu and I actually planned to visit Mito and its famous Kairaku-en - home to some 3000 plum blossom trees (!) - back in February when we were in Tokyo. Alas, given the colder winter than normal, a mere three trees had started to bloom at the time. So, we obviously had to try someplace closer to home.

04: A couple enjoying the ume flowers

South of Nagoya on Chita peninsula there is a notable park area called Souri Pond that contains some 1600 ume trees. The only trick was, it involved a slow Meitetsu train and a bus (i.e. a hassle). The March weather this year wasn't very cooperative on days off either, but I managed to get a good window of opportunity one Sunday. For some reason, I thought it'd be worth trying to get to on a bike. Mind you, this was without a map of any kind, no previous experience in riding down towards Chita peninsula, and only a vague idea of where exactly the place was. Needless to say, the trip wound up tiresome and fruitless. Better luck next year?

But, we did finally get our plum blossoms. It turns out that

06: Aojiku ume

Nagoya's very own Higashiyama Park has its own chunk of them in its botanical gardens. Although the zoo on site is a depressing state of affairs, the gardens actually warrant coughing up for the entrance fee. Without all the samurai mystique and drunken hedonism attached to them, the ume tend more towards quiet contemplation and strolling. The variety is an added plus; while cherry blossoms stick to a pretty consistent pale pink, plum blossoms can be anywhere from soft white to hot pink to yellowish to an almost green color.

07: Early cherry blossoms in Tsurumai Park

Then again, the samurai mystique and hedonism is what all adds to the festivity, right? When all's said and done, there's nothing quite like sakura season in Japan. There's really no other time of year when so many people are so eager to get outside and just have a great time together. The weather tends to be unpredictable as ever and inevitably causes at least one change of plans, but even in the worst of it there are still some Japanese willing to getting sopping wet just for the sake of enjoying the fleeting moment.

09: A tame neighboring party on hanami day

So, as with last year, a glorious hanami was on the cards, and Mayu and I hunted out a prime spot in neighboring Tsurumai Park. Coincidentally, this year's spot was right next to the one last year (but fortunately even larger). The day worked out even better than anticipated, with absolutely stunning, clear weather. No taiko or festive music from paraders, but I think we were making too much noise ourselves - and certainly too full of booze - to even notice anyhow. A bit of guitar and djambe adds to the fun, and with about 15 to 20 people turning up for our little space, we stayed busy enough. As always, it went too fast, but that's the spirit of the sakura in the first place: flowering suddenly and brilliantly, then quickly blown away by the wind, just like the life of a samurai.