A friendly cashier and shidare-zakura

At a certain supermarket on the edge of Tokyo's Toshima ward, there works an especially friendly cashier. While other cashiers may balk at the sight of foreigners, this one doesn't: she always greets us with a smile and a hearty こんばんはー！(konbanwa! - good evening!), and lets us try out our rudimentary Japanese with her as she practices her (admittedly far more proficient) English with us. This friendly cashier is the one who hooked me up with my very first point card in Japan--a bit of a slippery slope!--and continues to give us helpful advice and tips.

It's April now, so many varieties of cherry blossoms have already fallen and given way to green leaves, but I still find myself thinking about March's beautiful blossoms. Last month, we saw some of the most unique blooms yet thanks to that cashier's advice: go to Komagome Station and visit Rikugien Garden. What I was expecting was what I had seen at places like Ueno Park: the Somei-yoshino (染井吉野「ソメイヨシノ」) cherry, the most widespread variety in Japan. (See one of my old Photo Friday posts about it here!) What we found at Rikugien was something markedly different...breathtaking, even, for nature lovers like me.

A panoramic photo my husband took of the largest weeping cherry tree at Rikugien

I didn't realize it before visiting, but Rikugien is known for its shidare-zakura (枝垂桜 「シダレザクラ」), or weeping cherry trees. There are a handful of these trees there, but the one pictured above is the largest (and the most popular, as evidenced by the crowd seen in the photo).

Another one of my husband's photos showing a closeup of one of the branches. He wasn't afraid to step through the crowds for a quick picture...something more timid folks (like me) are a little hesitant to do!

Constructed in 1702 by Yanagisawa Yoshiyasu, daimyo of the Kawagoe domain, the layout of Rikugien (六義園) was inspired by waka poetry. Today, Rikugien is appreciated as a typical example of an Edo period garden. During sakura season--roughly late March through early April--nightly illuminations are held until 9 p.m., featuring a gorgeous view of the sakura after dark. The people of the Edo period would have loved this modern-day take on hanami, and it's well worth the admission fee.

One of my photos of the weeping cherry

Yesterday we went back to the grocery store and chatted with that friendly cashier. We hadn't seen her since we had been away on a vacation outside of Tokyo. We told her we had taken her advice and visited Rikugien, and showed her our photos of the weeping cherry trees. 良かった！, she said with a laugh, giddy that we took her advice. In English, she told us that she had been waiting for us to return.

It's exchanges with everyday people like this that I'll miss when I return to America. True, we've made friends with people at places we frequent in the U.S. (Nina, Emi, and Chelsea at our favorite Japanese restaurant; Michael at the winery; Dave at the grocery store), but there's something different about making connections with people outside of one's home country. It makes the world feel smaller, somehow. When people say that Tokyoites are too busy for small talk or have no interest in chatting with foreigners, I think of the exchanges I've had with people--especially with my favorite cashier--and try to explain that that's not always the case. Japanese people can indeed be intimidated by foreigners, sometimes because they feel as though their English is not up to par. However, if you appear friendly and approachable, you might be surprised by the connections you make.

If you'd like to visit Rikugien Garden in Bunkyo-ku, it's is a short walk south of Komagome Station, accessible from the Yamanote Line and the Tokyo Metro Namboku Line. The standard entrance fee to the garden is ¥300 for adults.

Leap Day in Japan: the realm of yokai?

Right now, it's February 29 in Japan--Leap Day, or 閏日「うるうび」--that strange inbetween day that only appears on calendars once every four years. Leap Day is a unique date that exists in the realms of both reality and fiction. If you're born on Leap Day, for example, how do you celebrate your birthday on non-leap years?  I have an aunt who was born on Leap Day, and we like to joke that she's only a teenager since her actual birthday only comes around every four years.

関口文京区 : Sekiguchi, Bunkyo-ku
A quiet back road near Mejiro-Dori in Tokyo,
a place where I imagine yokai to dwell

So what does Leap Day in Japan have to do with yokai? First, a quick primer for those new to the term: yokai (妖怪「ようかい」--also stylized as yōkai or youkai) are creatures of Japanese myth and legend, with an oral and written history stretching back for centuries. Only recently have yokai entered the Western public eye with such pop culture hits as Yo-Kai Watch, although other Japanese imports, including Pokemon, draw heavily from the urban legends and folktales.

As Michael Dylan Foster explains in The Book of Yōkai, yokai inhabit a sort of grey area between the real world and the unknown. Places like overpasses and intersections--figurative and literal bridges to other places--are prime spots for yokai to take up residence. While the West may view October 31 as the calendar date most associated with paranormal activity, I'd argue that February 29 is the true apex of the unexplained. Why, even in the Western world, Leap Day was historically viewed as a topsy-turvy "opposite" day of sorts, when women were permitted to propose to men (gasp!).

As you go about your business today, wherever in the world you may be, keep an eye out for strange happenings. With its existence both in the domains of tangible and intangible, Leap Day truly is an auspicious day for the unfamiliar and mysterious!

Photo Friday #6: Chinzan-so Garden! フォト金曜日＃６：椿山荘！

フォト金曜日＃６：椿山荘！Photo Friday #6: Chinzan-so Garden!

In the past two Photo Friday posts, I contrasted old with new in Kyoto, showing that there's more to the nation's former capital than just temples and teahouses. But what of Tokyo? As I've mentioned in a past post featuring Ueno Park, Tokyo isn't just a concrete jungle: throughout the city are numerous green spaces and parks, and innumerable shrines can be found wedged between skyscrapers and houses. In this week's Photo Friday post, I take a look at another favorite urban oasis:

椿山荘: Chinzan-so Garden

I initially discovered Chinzan-so not because of its gardens, but because of its lodging. Prior to our first trip to Japan in March 2013, we (somewhat spontaneously) took advantage of a deal from Globotours we saw on LivingSocial. Included in the travel package was a round-trip flight from LAX to Narita with Singapore Airlines, plus a stay for a few nights at Hotel Chinzan-so Tokyo, which had just rebranded from a Four Seasons hotel to an independent hotel. As frugal people, we normally wouldn't get to experience something like this--we typically stick to budget airlines and lodging--so we jumped at the chance.

Located in the Sekiguchi area of Tokyo's Bunkyo ward, Chinzan-so and its surroundings--once known as Tsubaki-yama (椿やま), or Camellia Hill--have a rich history. 17th century haiku poet Basho lived nearby, no doubt drawing inspiration from the wild camellias and rolling hills. In the 19th century, ukiyo-e artist Ando Hiroshige featured the area in his series One Hundred Famous Views of Edo (名所江戸百景) in the April 1857 woodblock print Basho's Hermitage and Camellia Hill on the Kanda Aqueduct at Sekiguchi (せき口上水端はせを庵椿やま).

Hiroshige's depiction of Camellia Hill

Shortly after being featured in Hiroshige's work, Yamagata Aritomo--an Imperial Army Field Marshal and Japanese Prime Minister--bought the land in 1878, giving it the name Chinzan-so, or "House of Camellia." In addition to his military and political accomplishments, he enjoyed Japanese garden design as a hobby (otherwise seen at Murin-an in Kyoto), and so began shaping the land into the Chinzan-so we know today.

In 1918, Yamagata willed the land to Baron Fujita Heitaro, head of a construction company, who then began decorating the gardens with artifacts from across the nation, most notably a shrine and a three-story pagoda. The Shiratama Inari Shrine (白玉稲荷神社) was relocated in 1924 from Shimogamo-jinja in Kyoto (and is watched over by a Fushimi Inari Taisha deity!), and you can receive your fortune via omikuji (御神籤) from a coin-operated machine there. The pagoda Entsukaku (圓通閣), as seen in the photo above, was moved in 1925 from Chikurin-ji Temple in the mountains of Hiroshima; it was said to have been constructed without nails by Chikurin-ji monks either during the Heian (794-1185) or Muromachi (1338-1573) periods.

Other relics can be found throughout the gardens--stone lanterns, monuments, and more--which the hotel plots on maps both online and on hard copies for guests. With World War II came the destruction of much of the gardens, though the pagoda, shrine, and 500-year-old sacred tree were spared. Reconstruction on the gardens began in 1948, and upkeep on the grounds and its structures continues today.

As you can tell from the smattering of autumnal colors in the photo above, this picture wasn't taken during our first trip to Japan: we returned to the hotel and gardens for a night's stay in December 2014, as a treat during our honeymoon. It seemed appropriate, as Chinzan-so is not only famous for its gardens and hotel, but today also functions as one of Tokyo's most popular wedding sites, offering both Western and Shinto ceremonies. During both of our stays at the hotel, we caught glimpses of a few wedding ceremonies; they're so common that you can see a wedding party in the bottom right corner of the photo above!

Replete with historical artifacts--albeit relocated--the gardens' 17 acres are a picturesque haven from the hustle and bustle of Tokyo, and the opulent hotel offers elegant accommodations and an exceedingly friendly, hospitable staff. It's also relatively easy to access: it's a (somewhat steep) 10 minute walk from the nearby subway station, Tokyo Metro's Edogawabashi Station on the Yurakucho Line, or a (somewhat long) 30 minute walk from Mejiro Station on the Yamanote Line. (After a few of those 1.5 mile walks from Mejiro Station--on an unwittingly broken ankle, I might add--we wisened up and learned how to use the buses, a cheaper option than a ~¥750 taxi ride.)

Taking a leisurely stroll through the gardens, walking under the waterfall, gazing at the serene pond...it's all a refreshing change of pace after experiencing sensory overload in places like Shinjuku and Shibuya. Indeed, aside from the skyscrapers looming in the background, it's easy to forget that you're still in the city. Just like there's more to Kyoto than just temples and teahouses, there's more to Tokyo than just concrete and neon.