hanami

4 April 1999

Spring in Tokyo brings a profusion of flowers. The climate is warm enough for flowers even in winter but when as the days grow longer and warmer it seems as though every hedge and tree blooms.

The most famous of these springtime flowers is the sakura, or cherry blossom. In fact, it is the national flower. And it is well-deserved of its fame.

15 years ago, our town planted cherry trees along both banks of the Meguro River which runs not far from our house. The trees began their annual flowering last week and we monitored their progress every day as we commuted to work on the trains which pass over them.

On the weekend we went and walked among them. Oh, so beautiful! It was like walking under winter trees covered in pink snow. The tree bark is very dark brown and contrasts dramatically with the light colored blossoms. The pink coloring is so delicate, so subtle that it's almost not pink at all. As individual flowers, each is white. But massed together they are pale, pale pink.

The petals fall soon after the flowers have opened, reminding the Japanese of samurai who bravely fought and died in the full flower of their youth. Without all the cultural baggage to make me maudlin, I felt like I was walking through a parade or a snowfall.

Not all Japanese are gloomy about the beauty of sakura. Millions of nature lovers gather in parks and public places under the sakura, spread out on their ubiquitous bright blue plastic tarps to eat and get drunk and, I suppose, talk about the sakura. This annual event is called hanami. Literally translated it means flower (hana) viewing (miru).

Our friends in Yamada Reizouko Ou, a band that is starting to make it big, had a hanami in a park just outside Tokyo. They mentioned it at their last show and we decided to go. We knew where the park was but didn't know exactly where they were, so we wandered around a park crammed full of people to try to find them. Which is pretty silly, really. After a little while we gave up trying to find them and enjoyed the sakura and watching everyone.

panorama
I find public rowdiness is much, much more enjoyable when I don't know what people are saying. The groups of men shouting and clapping and having a wonderful time were fun to watch.

Anyway, after sitting to rest and have a snack, we got up to leave. Tod volleyed our small bag of trash right over the garbage bin and into some nearby picnickers. I stood there and smothered a laugh as he apologised. I guess we must have caused a scene because as Tod more carefully disposed of our trash, who comes running over but Chikao, the bass player from the band!

We sat with them and enjoyed their party. It's difficult to join in when you don't speak much of the language, but we did ok and it was lots of fun. Chikao was very kind to us and spoke in English and slow, simple Japanese and did a lot of translating. We are burdensome partygoers, I'm afraid.

Most of the time I sat there and watched everyone and let their words wash over me. Japanese spoken by men is really soothing. Women's Japanese is more polite but shriller in tone except that of Charu, the band's vocalist, who has one of the most lovely speaking voices I've ever heard. Sadly, she was sitting far away from me and we didn't get to talk.

There were interesting people in the group--a sportwriter, a filmmaker, lots of musicians, a programmer, a vj, and some really nice people who didn't have easy-to-explain jobs. I wish I could express myself in spoken Japanese because there are so many things I want to talk to them about. I think too slowly in Japanese to hold up my end of a conversation.

Today I will go to the Meguro River again and walk among the trees. I don't think it is possible for me to sketch a cherry tree, but I think I can paint one. I'm looking forward to reproducing the pale pink.