A Fish Out of Water

Cherry blossoms

I couldn't let spring arrive without a few cherry blossom pictures, and here they are. Really just a few this year, at least of the flowers still on the trees.

Thanks to plenty of wind and rain, and a great big storm, the blossoms didn't spend much time on the trees, and now wherever you go you get to walk on carpets of pale pink petals.

The sight of the petals falling to the ground, like a gentle snowfall, is one of the most beautiful things in the world. Shuma thinks so too, and when he sees a petal falling he points to it and says "bubble". Close enough.

Another sight, less well-celebrated than falling petals, can only be seen when riding the bus during a rainfall at the end of the cherry blossom season. The rain knocks the petals from the trees and then sticks them to the windows of the bus, treating passengers to a close-up botany lesson. Or at least giving them something to look at other than adds for local dentists and pachinko parlours.

Kinchakuda

At the end of September I took Shuma to Kinchakuda, a park in Hidaka City, Saitama that is famed for its flowers. I've been wanting to go for years but never had the time, and now that I often find myself at a loss as to how I'm supposed to fill up the days with a baby I thought this would be a nice little outing. I was right, and aside from a really sore back from carrying him for most of the day things went great. I'm guessing the early toddler years are a good time to do touristy stuff like this, before he's old enough to get bored of it.

The park can be visited as part of a hike or long walk, but I chose to go directly from the station (Koma Station on the Seibu Chichibu Line). It took about fifteen minutes and was a rather pleasant walk, along paths lined with farm fields, rice paddies and chestnut orchards. There were also vendors for much of the way selling local flowers, produce and crafts. I was interested in the sesame, which we'd seen growing a few years ago in nearby Hanno, and I wonder if the area produces a lot of it.

There were also plenty of flowers, and as we got closer to the park they increased, as did the crowds. After paying my 200 yen entry fee, this is what I saw:

The flowers in question are called here manjushage (曼珠沙華), and more commonly known as higanbana (彼岸花; English names include red spider lily, cluster amaryllis, and storm lily).

This is what a single flower looks like, and it's beautiful enough on its own, but people come here to see thousands of them together in a sea of red. Indeed, if you've seen a picture of a field of higanbana then it was probably taken here, as Kinchakuda is famed throughout Japan. Speaking of pictures, I wasn't expecting to take amazing ones, but here are some examples of what more talented photographers can do with these flowers.

So of course even though we went on a weekday we had to deal with major crowds, and it was slow moving along the narrow paths in the park. Luckily the place is well-designed and the number and layout of the paths make it possible to occasionally escape the worst crowding and also get some pictures that aren't filled with people.

There was evidence here and there of the previous week's Typhoon 15, one of the biggest storms to pass through in recent memory. Here a few trees have been knocked over but left where they lay, presumably so as not to disturb the flowers.

Near the middle of the park was a market area full of vendors selling snacks and local products, so I bought a simple lunch and found a place by the nearby Komagawa River to sit down and eat it. Shuma charmed the pants off of the surrounding picnickers, and the couple seen on the right in the above picture gave him a manju (sweet bun stuffed with red bean jam). Which I brought home for Hideaki, because Shuma hasn't discovered sweets yet.

Across the river was a small landslide from the typhoon. The river was nice and shallow and looked to be a great spot for swimming in the summer, so we'll be back.

The other side of the park was far less crowded, perhaps because the flowers weren't quite in full bloom yet.

Can you spot the dragonfly above? It's an akatombo (red dragonfly, or autumn darter), the same as the one below:

This is the Aiaibashi Bridge, a pedestrian bridge said to be the biggest of its type in Japan.

Every once in a while there were white higanbana, which are even harder to photograph than red (the flowers also come in pink and yellow).

Watch out squeamish people, a spider shot follows:

You didn't think I would do a whole post without a picture of Shuma, did you? Of course, it was hard to take his picture- he can stand by himself but every time I backed up to take his picture he would grab the flowers and try to eat or otherwise destroy them.

By the time I left the higanbana section of the park it was late afternoon. This would be a good time for serious photographers to visit, as the light was lovely and the crowds were thinning out.

Nearby there were fields of cosmos. The park actually has several types of flowers that bloom throughout the year, although higanbana are by far the most famous.

More pictures can be seen here.

 

Kinchakuda
Saitama-ken Hidaka-shi Koma Hongo 125-2
042-982-0268
15 minutes from Koma Station on the Seibu Chichicu Line; can also be accessed on hiking routes from Komagawa Station (JR Hachiko and Kawagoe Lines) and Hanno Station (Seibu Ikebukuro Line)
Open daily from 7:00am to 5:00pm during the higanbana season (two to three weeks around late September, but varies; season announced in September here)
Admission 200 yen during the higanbana season; free during the rest of the year
Parking 500 yen
Wheelchair and stroller accessible, but most paths are unpaved and crowds may be hard to navigate

Fall Colours

Fall is in full swing and the local leaves are looking pretty. These are some of the sights I see on my regular walking route (plus one gratuitous baby shot- just couldn't help myself).

Snow

Last night, just as I was thinking winter would sneak by undetected this year, Hideaki came home from work with rosy cheeks and a head adorned with snowflakes. I'd had no idea it had been snowing, having napped the evening away (a wonderful new habit of mine) after getting soaked in the rain earlier. But somewhere during my slumbers the raindrops had turned to snowflakes, great big fluffy snowflakes, and although we huddled under a blanket on our balcony and enjoyed the view for a while, we were both too tired to actually go out and enjoy it. All that napping can really tire a girl out, after all (I have no idea what his excuse was).

So I had to hope the snow would stick around, and sure enough when I opened the curtains this morning there was a blanket of rapidly melting but still pretty snow on the ground. So I put on my snow boots and headed out to enjoy our first real snowfall in two years.

Like all snowy days in Tokyo there were very few people about, even at the local park which is normally bustling with activity at this time of day. A few intrepid seniors out for their morning walk, a handful of park security guards and volunteers clearing paths, a grand total of three moms with their kids, and four people walking their dogs.

The toy poodle and chihuahua were not having any fun at all, mincing around on the cold wet path as if they were cats. A couple of real dogs were making the most of the snow, including the one above, whose owner looked like she was having almost as much as her dog. It was also nice to see one man who, like me, was purposely walking on the fresh virgin snow instead of the cleared path, although when he saw me looking he sheepishly returned to the path. Lord knows why.

But the place was otherwise deserted, and I felt like I had the whole park to myself. So I did what I always do when it snows: take pictures of flowers. Above is a frosty ume (Japanese apricot) blossom, and below are a couple of icy clusters of mansaku (witch hazel) flowers.

I wanted to stay out longer, but the rumblings in my tummy told me it was time to head home for breakfast. Now that that's out of the way, I think I'll go have a nap. Yawn.

Hokkaido

In September Hideaki and I were invited back to Kushiro, Hokkaido to visit his brother Hidetoshi. We had really wanted to go in the summer but couldn't find the time, so by the time we made it the weather was already turning cool. Still, there was abundant greenery, the trees still had their leaves, and the temperatures were mostly warm, so it was quite different from our springtime visit.

The first thing we did was drive to Akkeshi, the oyster-producing town we'd visited on our first trip, to pick up a few dozen oysters. Things got far too messy while we were shucking them to take pictures, sadly, but they were lovely and delicious inside and we ate them in all sorts of ways, from raw and naked to grilled with black pepper and ponzu.

The next day we drove up to Akan National Park, stopping on the way at Soba Doraku, an excellent soba (buckwheat noodle) restaurant we'd visited last time. Only this time we weren't just there to eat: we took a soba making class, learning how to turn sobako (buckwheat flour) into noodles. Again, things were too hands-on to take pictures, but my first soba making experience was lots of fun. It was much harder than I thought it would be, but under the guidance of our instructor we did a pretty good job.

When we were finished kneading and cutting the dough we sat down to wait for our handiwork to be boiled and served to us. Those are our noodles, above, and we thought they were very tasty and were really proud of ourselves for doing such a good job on our first try, until we decided- just for fun- to order a regular serving of soba. That is, soba prepared by the pros in the kitchen. And we realized we'd been fooling ourselves, because compared to the soba we'd made, this stuff was a thousand times better. The flavour wasn't so different, but it obviously takes an experienced set of hands to make soba that doesn't fall apart when boiled, has a springy, chewy, and slippery texture.

Note that the soba was served with a slice of yubari melon instead of the potato we got last time. It's a nice touch to have a side dish that changes with the seasons.

Continuing on to Akan National Park, we stopped at a hilltop that offered a view of Kusharo-ko, one of the park's famed lakes that we'd seen close-up in the spring. We'd walked right around the island-like peninsula seen above, and it looked much bigger from here than when we were on it.

The clouds hampered the view a little bit, as clear skies would have shown the lake's beautiful colour as well as bringing distant mountain ranges- a few of which apparently were already capped with snow- into view.    

The surrounding hills were covered by low-lying bamboo grass, which looked dry and scraggly up close but very lush and inviting from afar.

We then went to another viewpoint to see another lake, Mashu-ko, below From this spot part of Kussaro-ko is also visible, above.

Mashu-ko is a caldera lake, with banks so steep that there is no access at all to its waters. It's extremely rare to see any shoreline in Japan without any kind of development, and my disappointment at not being able to get close to the water was balanced by the beautiful sight of the pristine shoreline.

It would have been nice to have clear skies to see the famed deep-blue colour of the water by, but at least we could see the lake- apparently it's often obscured by fog.

After driving back to Kushiro we were taken to a hill with a coal mine on one side and the city on the other. Until a few years ago the hill was the coal mine's a slag heap, but a retired employee of the coal company has been planting the hill with grass and cosmos and has managed to transform the former eyesore into a very pretty spot.

The same coal company created this lake:

My brother-in-law's apartment is on the other side of the lake, and on the side this picture was taken the same retiree has created another garden, this one featuring a variety of trees and shrubs. At first the man worked alone, but now is helped by a few volunteers, including Hidetoshi.

It's a work in progress, with most trees still quite small, but it's easy to imagine that one day it will become a very nice park or garden. It's already a pretty place, especially in the spring as many of the trees are cherry trees.

Dinner was at my brother-in-law's place, starting with sanma (Pacific saury) sashimi. This was locally caught and perfectly in season, and while I'm not normally a fan of raw sanma I loved this (and ate nearly the entire plate of it myself).

Then out came a couple whole sanma, along with the hibachi. Hidetoshi cooks most of his dinners over charcoal (with the fan on and windows open, of course), and he cooked the sanma to perfection.

We'd been given a couple steamed cobs of corn at the soba restaurant earlier, and these went on the grill with a splash of soy sauce.

The meal ended with soup and rice, and sanma featured here as well, being ground, shaped into tsumire (fish meatballs) and added to miso soup. Tsumire is not something I trouble to make often, as it's a lot of work, but this reminded me that I need to do it more often.

After dinner Hideaki tried on some of the gardening gear that his brother uses to help out in the garden across the lake. That's one heavy duty weedwhacker!

The next day started with a hearty breakfast at our hotel. The buffet included robata-yaki (charcoal-grilled fish, meat and vegetables), which is hugely popular in Kushiro (not usually for breakfast though!), in the plate at bottom right.

Then we drove east to Shibetsu, a coastal town known for its salmon industry. Our destination was Shibetsu Salmon Park (English PDF here), a hatchery with a museum, shops and restaurants.

First up was lunch. I had the seafood curry, which came topped with salmon katsu (deep-fried salmon "cutlet"). The curry was great and the cutlet, well, although I can think of about a dozen ways that I'd rather eat salmon, it was interesting to try.

The boys had seafood ramen, which was a big hit.

Passing through the shop, it was tempting not to buy a whole salmon- these were going for about 2000 yen each, an impossible price in Tokyo. Hidetoshi picked up a few things though, which turned up later at the dinner table.

The museum is located next to the Shibetsu river, not far from where it meets the Pacific, and both ocean and river are visible from the museum's tower. We then walked over to the bridge, hoping to see the river busy with salmon on their way upriver to spawn.

Unfortunately this is not a good year for salmon in Shibetsu, and where normally you'd find the river clogged with salmon and get to watch then jump over the hatchery's barriers, there were just a few to be seen here and there, and none of them in a jumping mood.

Back at the museum we got to watch a handful of salmon that had been diverted from the river. These were a little more active and made a few jumps, but none made it over the barriers. Still, it was neat to see them up close and try to identify them by species and gender. I got quite good and would have been happy to watch for hours (this picture doesn't do the exhibit justice, it really was quite cool).

There was more to the museum but we zipped right through it without pausing to take pictures. Most information was in Japanese, but a few English language posters caught my eye. On closer inspection I was tickled to see they were Canadian Ministry of Fisheries posters. I really regret not taking pictures (or swiping them).

On the way back home we did some shopping at a "home centre" (like a big DIY or hardware store) and I noticed this display of salmon-related goods near the entrance. Behind me were fishing supplies, and the products in this picture are all for storing, transporting, shipping (as gifts), and preparing both salmon and salmon roe. It's easy to see what a big deal salmon are in this part of Japan.

Dinner started with shake no kunsei (smoked salmon). This was much smokier and firmer textured than European style smoked salmon, and was so packed with flavour that it had to be eaten slowly, nibble by nibble. This was easily one of the most delicious ways I've ever eating salmon.

Next up: jingisukan (Genghis Khan, similar to Mongolian hotpot). We cooked thinly sliced lamb and bean sprouts on an iron grill with a sweetish, vaguely Chinese flavoured sauce. Lamb is sadly not very popular in most of Japan, but happily Hokkaidoites love it, especially as jingisukan.

This is what my brother-in-law had bought earlier in the day in Shibetsu: two kinds of ikura (salmon roe). On the left is ikura no shiozuke (salt-cured roe), on the right is ikura no shoyuzuke (roe cured in soy sauce).

To compare them, we had ikuradon (hot rice topped with salmon roe) with one type on each side, separated by a garnish of nori seaweed. Both were delicious, but I thought the shoyuzuke on the left had a mellower flavour that went better with rice. I also thought I was a very lucky person to be able to be conducting such a taste test!

I'll blog about the rest of the trip soon, and in the meantime you can check out more pictures here.

Tobermory

While we were at Sauble Beach we drove up the Bruce Peninsula for an afternoon of hiking, stopping first for lunch in Tobermory, at the tip of the peninsula. We ate at a pirate-themed restaurant called the Shipwreck, with a cheese factor that was outweighed by the good food (and the cute pirate waiters).

We started with fried pickles, a delicacy that was new to me but stayed true to the "anything can be good when deep-fried" rule, and then went on to fish & chips. We all chose the local whitefish and were rewarded with a very tasty fish, with a mild, slightly oily flavour and delicate flesh, unlike anything I can get in Japan (where river and sea fish are plentiful but lake fish rather rare).

Then we drove to the Bruce Peninsula National Park for a few hours of leisurely hiking. It was a beautiful park bordered by rugged cliffs and the occasional rocky beach along Georgian Bay on the east and Lake Huron on the west. There isn't much explanation needed, so here's an uninterrupted stream of pictures:

I was impressed by the washrooms, which were much nicer than the usual toilets found in parks. Large open windows let in light and offered ventilation, the wooden construction looked nice, and best of all there was no running water: instead of flushing away waste it stayed where it was and, with the help of woodchips, turned into compost. I'd love to see this type of toilet in Japan.

I slept through most of the drive back to Sauble (I had insisted on carrying a backpack full of beer and water for the hike, which made an easy hike into a tiring one) but woke up to take a picture of this very pretty field of canola flowers:

Note that some of these pictures were taken by my brother Greg and his girlfriend Sherry. See lots more by them and by me in my Sauble album at Flickr.

Canada, week one

My trip to Canada last month started as it always does, with a dose of jetlag. But I don't know if it was the result of a pleasant flight (did I really just describe a 12 hour flight as "pleasant"? why yes, yes I did. thanks Air Canada and your endless stream of movies and TV shows) or the homeopathic anti-jet lag pills I took, but this time around I had the mildest jet lag ever. The worst I had to deal with was a week of early nights, spontaneous naps and very early mornings, which wasn't bad at all. And I have a feeling that even without jet lag I'd be waking up at 4:00, because that's when our backyard starts to come alive with robins and other birds announcing the coming day.

The early mornings were also a nice for walks in the nearby park, as that's the best time for picturesque fog, dewy flowers and active birds. The birds (and a local beaver) eluded my camera but the snails, which seemed to be everywhere thanks to some very wet weather, obligingly stayed still for me.

That wet weather kept us indoors more than I would have liked, but as a consolation there was lots of good food. Some of the biggest cravings I get in Japan are for simple, humble food like Jamaican hot patties or perogies, shown above.

I also miss Mexican and Tex-mex food, which although available in Tokyo is either prohibitively expensive or not very good. Luckily my brother Greg and his girlfriend Sherry are masters of Mexican cooking and whipped up several excellent meals for us. Above are condiments for quesadillas: mango salsa, sour cream, mild tomato salsa, guacamole, hot salsa and a side dish of (why not?) sauteed gai lan (a rapini-like Chinese green).

These were chicken quesadillas, cooked up on the barbeque and so, so good.

And of course no trip back home is complete without a few big breakfasts.This one was at Cora's, an lovely breakfast chain that originated in Montreal but has happily spread across Canada. Tempted by waffles and omelets, I chose brioche French toast topped with a poached egg, bacon, and mounds of fruit. Yum.

My niece Zoe and nephew Aaron flew up from  for a visit shortly after I arrived and we tried to keep them busy, starting with a trip with my Dad to Belfountain, a local conservation area with some nice and easy hiking trails. The area once belonged to a wealthy and slightly eccentric inventor, who in addition to building a house and trails also put up a fountain topped with a bell (get it?),

 a small and mysterious cave, (called Yellowstone Cave, and said to be modeled after a similar cave in Yellowstone Park, although I don't know if such a cave actually exists),

a miniature Niagara Falls,

and a suspension bridge (also shown in the previous post).

One of the trails is a loop that runs along the West Credit River and takes about an hour to complete, so we had a nice little walk.

There were flowers blooming everywhere, from the exotic yellow lady slipper orchids, below, to mundane but pretty buttercups and brassicas.

We were also lucky enough to see three salamanders, which I think were easter redbacks. Not much wildlife otherwise.

Except for the kids, of course.

See more pictures from Belfountain in my Hikes and Walks album, and all the pictures from my visit in my Canada 2009 album.

Kushiro Day Four

My last day in Kushiro started at Washo Ichiba, the city's famed market. Seafood is the main draw, attracting both locals and tourists, the latter wandering the market with bowls of rice in hand, the better to sample the wares with. We did the tourist thing, of course, but first we had a good look around the market.

Beautiful whole salmon were everywhere. The ones shown here were priced between 6000 and 10,000 yen, although I saw a giant one going for 36,000 yen. All were caught wild, either in Hokkaido or Russia.

Some merchants specialized in one type of seafood, while others had a little bit of everything. The scallops above were lovely and if I had access to a kitchen I would have bought them (I bet they'd be wonderful sauteed in Hokkaido butter).

Crab was almost as plentiful as salmon, and I imagine there would be even more of them in the winter when they are in season. In the foreground above are whole tarabagani (king crab) going for 4300 to 9800 yen, in the background are bags of tarabagani legs for 1500 and 2500 yen, and in the background are whole kegani (hairy crabs), priced at about 3000 to 5000 yen each.

There were also a mind-boggling array of shellfish. Above, from front left are bags of shucked oysters at 650 yen each, giant hokki-gai clams for 300 yen apiece, and iso-tsubu (a variety of tsubu-gai, or whelks) at 140 yen per 100 grams. The row behind that has asari (littleneck clams) for 120 yen per 100 grams, a small tray of asari for 400 yen, a tray of shijimi clams for 300 yen, trays of shelled hokkigai for 600 yen, and trays of iso-tsubu for 500 yen. Behind that row are shijimi for 140 yen per 100 grams, and to the right are bags of shelled and cooked tsubugai and trays of shelled and cooked scallops, with roe and frill still attached.

This shop carries himono (partly dried fish). The whole flatfish are karei (flounder), the whole fish in the foreground are sanma (Pacific saury), the split fish are hokke (atka mackerel), and the small fish on sticks in the background are shishamo (smelt).

Getting into more unusual stuff, on the left we have sujiko (salmon roe sacs), much smaller than the usual size. I've never seen them so small but I suppose that's the size they are this time of year (spawning not occurring until autumn). Or maybe they just came from midget salmon. Those big chunks of meat are fresh whale, priced at 180 to 450 yen per 100 grams. I'm not sure what the difference in price is for: different species, different cuts, or different levels of freshness? As is the norm in Japan, the species is not identified.

One of the few non-seafood merchants had variety of local and imported meat: lamb from Hokkaido, iberico pork from Spain, and local higuma (Japanese brown bear), packaged in a not very appetizing way.

And having seen the sights, it was time to do the tourist thing and have kattedon, which is a donburi (bowl of rice) topped with whatever little bits of seafood you fancy. It's a brilliant concept, as I've often find myself walking around a market and accepting samples here and there, thinking those samples would be so much better with a bowl of rice to enjoy them with. Unfortunately the free samples aren't forthcoming once you've got your bowl of rice, and the merchants sell tiny amounts of their wares for kattedon-toting tourists. You can end up paying a lot, but it's still a neat idea.

The done thing is to buy a styrofoam bowl of rice (priced from about 100 to 300 yen depending on the size) and wander around the market, buying toppings here and there.

We were in a bit of a rush so ended up buying everything at the place above, which had everything we wanted and more.

The seafood was packaged in single servings, and the merchant simply grabbed each little container as we chose it and emptied it onto the rice.

Once we'd finished choosing it was all topped off with soy sauce and the price was calculated. We ended up paying just under 1000 yen each, including rice, which is by no means a bargain but not a good deal considering the quality of the ingredients. And as a bonus, the merchant slipped an extra slice of tuna onto my kattedon, so I'm not complaining.

My kattedon consisted of, from bottom, salmon, tuna (not local but it looked good), ikura (salmon roe), tarako (pollack roe), crab meat, and saba (mackerel). It was very, very good, although the crab was a little too doused with soy sauce to fully enjoy it.

With breakfast over with, we drove west into the countryside to visit a farm. Like almost everywhere else we'd been so far, there were cows all over the place, but it wasn't a dairy farm we were headed to.

We went to Hitsuji Marugoto Kenkyusho, a sheep farm run by Shogo Sakai, an acquaintance of my brother-in-law.

We came during a sheepshearing session and got to watch the ewe above get a very complete haircut.

She was pregnant and didn't put up much of a fight, at least not the way I've seen the few times I saw sheepshearing on TV. Of course Mr. Sakai was quite a bit more gentle than those sheepshearers, and managed to relieve the ewe of her wool while leaving barely a scratch.

Her wool came off in one big piece, and was placed on a rack to be graded and have any debris picked off, a job usually performed by Mrs. Sakai.

He picked off a small tuft of wool and deftly spun it into yarn the old-fashioned way. It was amazingly strong and soft.

Meanwhile, the ewe showed some mild interest in her former coat, but didn't seem to upset at loosing it.

Next we visited a barnfull of lambs born last year. I think a good number of these are destined for the dinner table.

And then we got a look at the sheepskins. Called muton (from the French mouton) in Japanese, they looked so soft and inviting that I couldn't help but dive in to the pile.

They felt just as nice as they looked, and Hideaki's brother ended up buying three of them for us: the soft cream coloured and short black ones shown above and a curlier, fuzzier cream-coloured one. I'm sitting on that one right now, and wow is it ever comfortable. If I could I'd cover all my chairs and sofa in sheepskin, cover the floor in sheepskin rugs, and have my sheets made of sheepskin too. It's wonderful stuff. I can even understand the Uggs craze a little.

Next we hit a cheese factory, which as luck would have it was holding a small festival. It was a perfect time for lunch, so we had a lovely meal of lamb stew, grilled kabocha squash, pate, cottage cheese and bread, and a just-grilled lamb kabob. And to go with it, cheese-filled buns baked in an improvised brick oven. Eaten under the warm spring sun, this was a lovely, lamby lunch.

We drove back to Kushiro along the coast, stopping at a lookout point for a view of the ocean.

 

There were more wildflowers up there, like this kikuzaki-ichige (Anemone pseudoaltaica), and the kibana amana (yellow star-of-Bethlehem) below.

We then stopped at a roadside seafood market that also happened to have soft-serve ice cream, and I had my last Hokkaido ice cream of the trip on the beach. It was early evening by now and freezing cold, but ice cream on the beach is nice any time so I didn't mind.

One last stop was at a fishing pier in Kushiro, featuring yet another salmon-themed manhole cover.

Back at my brother-in-law's house I had a quick dinner (they would do their real eating--and more importantly drinking--after I left), starting with sake-steamed clams and then moving on the tail-end of the hokke we'd had a few nights before.

It was grilled at the table, as was most of the food we'd eaten on the trip. I haven't really explained the grilling, so now is a good time: for nearly every night of the year my brother-in-law grills his dinner with charcoal, either on the camp-style hibachi shown in previous posts or the shichirin grill shown above. He uses top-quality charcoal and fires it up in the stairwell, and when it's ready brings it inside (being careful to keep the fan on and windows open). He has a camping table with a sunken middle set up in his dining room, and the grill is placed in the middle and the food is slowly grilled, while the alcohol and conversation flows.

It is slow food in the extreme, and the meals we had there were all four or five hours long. It's a very nice, civilized way to eat, and although I wouldn't want to do that every day (nor would I have the time), it's great to see people doing this.

With a bowl of rice topped with umeboshi (salted plum) and pickles, the meal ended and it was time to go. I flew back to Tokyo with a very full tummy feeling tired but satisfied (Hideaki stayed on for a few more days). I'd had a busy four days, filled with stuff that a regular tourist would never get to experience. Thanks for the wonderful trip, brother-in-law!

More pictures of the trip can be seen here.

Kushiro Day Three

On the morning of our third day in Kushiro we had a little time to look at the area we were staying in. Above is the Kushiro River as seen from our room, and below as seen from the north bank, looking at the Nusamai Bridge and one of its four famous broze statues. The statues apparently depict the four seasons, but we never got a chance to see them up close and they appeared to be nothing more than four naked ladies in different poses.

The banks of the river were often crowded with tourists looking for Ku-chan, an otter who had lately taken to hanging around the area. I was only able to see Ku-chan once, from across the river, and apparently the otter disappeared altogether the day I left, eventually showing up again in another city of Hokkaido. It must have been a crushing blow to Kushiro's tourist industry, which seemed to have been relying heavily on Ku-chan to bring in the tourists in recent weeks. So beloved was the otter that it was became the latest animal celebrity to receive an honorary juminhyo (national registry) entry , an honor I am not eligible for (being not cute or Japanese enough).

Salmon are a more traditional local obsession, and they are honored with statues, salmon-shaped street lights, and sewer grates.

After our brief look at the river, we drove up north to Akan National Park. We stopped on the way at Soba Doraku, a locally famous soba restaurant surrounded by farm fields, many of them growing buckwheat (the raw ingredient of soba noodles). They make their own soba, and the water wheel out front (traditionally used for milling buckwheat and often found outside soba restaurants) actually appears to be functional (a rarity as these water wheels are usually purely decorative).

I ordered the inaka soba ("country style" soba made with coursely ground soba), which came with the usual cold dipping sauce, garnish of wasabi and sliced negi (long onion) and pickles. There was also a surprise: half a boiled potato, which is not something you would expect on the mainland. But this is Hokkaido, where potatoes seem to grow very well and are therefore very popular. And very good: regular Japanese potatoes are usually disappointing and I'd never happily eat a plain boiled one, but this was delicious just as it was, no seasoning necessary.

The soba was even better, with the thick, chewy noodles tasting strongly of buckwheat, just the way inaka soba should. This was some of the best soba I've had, and apparently lots of locals feel the same: the shop was extremely crowded, and soon after we sat down a long line had formed outside. Soon the old couple and part time girl running the place were completely overwhelmed and even people who got a seat had to wait a very long time for their food. But rather than get annoyed or start complaining like city people, the customers (or at least the female customers) started helping out, carrying trays back to the kitchen and washing and drying the dishes. That's something I've never seen in Tokyo--or anywhere else, come to think of it.

Akan National Park has three lakes: Akan-ko, Masshu-ko and Kussharo-ko. The first two are famous throughout Japan and I was looking forward to seeing them, but it turns out we were in fact going to Kussharo-ko, which is the biggest of the three. My brother-in-law explained that the two more famous lakes would be extremely crowded with tourists since it was Golden Week, and he went on to say that the popularity of those lakes is not really justified: they are pretty but there's not much to do except look at the lakes from an observation deck.

Kussharo-ko, apparently, is as beautiful as the other lakes but remains largely unmolested by tourists, and has more to do. We first drove along a gravel road to get to a beach with a beautiful view of the lake and surrounding mountains. It was was completely deserted, as promised.

Akan-ko is famous for its marimo (algae balls, which grow larger in the lake than anywhere else in the world), but Kussharo-ko has a similar species of algae balls. We found a number of them in the shallow water, and while they weren't big and green enough to pull in thousands of tourists they were definitely neat to see.

The weather was the warmest we'd experienced so far and I just had to try out the water. It was as cold as it looks, but if it was summer I'd be swimming.

Hideaki stayed on land and I came out soon too, after noticing a big pile of deer poop next to the water. I'm guessing this beach gets more traffic from deer than from people, and in fact on our drive back out to the main road we saw three deer next to the road.

Next we drove to Wakoto Hanto, a peninsula on the lake. With a parking lot, visitor's centre and campgrounds, there were a few people here, and my brother-n-law declared it "crowded". We headed straight for the hiking trail that runs along the peninsula and soon the "crowds" thinned, and we hardly saw anyone else on our hour-long hike.

  

 

Aside from pretty views of the lake and ancient trees, the trail offered plenty of wildflowers. Above is hime-ichige (Abemone debilis), as we'd seen the day before.

I finally found out what the purple flower I'd been seeing along the road since we arrived in Hokkaido was: ezo-engosaku (Corydalis ambigua), which actually comes in both blue and violet.

 

This is fukujusou, (Adonis amurensis, called adonis in English), a cheerful little flower.

I had seen a plant the day before with leaves and a single bud that looked a lot like a trillium, and I finally found one in bloom. It was a trillium after all, probably shirobana-enreisou (Trillium tschonoskii Maximowicz, called Tschonosk trillium or Japanese white trillium in English. These were plentiful but I only found one in bloom, so I bet right around now Wakoto is covered in blooming trilliums.

Near the end of the peninsula the water, glimpsed through the trees, changed colour to green. Soon the trees thinned and the ground was covered in moss, and suddenly we could hear a chorus of insects, the first we'd heard in Hokkaido. The ground here is several degrees warmer than normal, heated beneath by hot springs, and is warm enough to support a colony of tiny crickets year-round.

The shore is not accessible from land, but there was a family there who'd arrived by canoe. Apparently they were boiling eggs in the hot spring.

On the way back to the car we passed a marshy area, once again filled with mizubasho (Lysichitum camtschatcense, or skunk cabbage).

Dinner that night was lamb, one of the foods that Hokkaido is known for. Lamb is not very popular in the rest of Japan, with most people claiming to dislike the flavour, but in Hokkaido it is the meat of choice and most often cooked as jingis kan, a hot pot named after Genghis Khan for some reason.

There are two types of jingis kan, and we had both. The first, and the way I prefer, has slices of lamb cooked over charcoal and then dipped in a sauce. The most popular sauce comes in a red can, as shown above, and is a rich, sweet, garlicky and mildly spicy, with a vaguely Chinese flavour. Another type of sauce, shown in the jar two pictures up, has similar flavours but with the addition of gyoja-ninniku, a wild leek similar to ramps.

The other method of cooking jingis kan has the lamb meat along with its marinade (a sweetish and mildly spicy sauce with a vaguely Chinese flavour) placed in a pot on top of a layer of vegetables, in this case bean sprouts, and slowly cooked. This style is the most popular in Hokkaido and the only style used in the rest of Japan (where jingis kan has become more well-known in recent years).

As if we hadn't had enough protein, out came the two half-steaks of the salmon that we didn't get to eat the night before.

This is a type of salmon called tokishirazu, also known as tokizake, that I'd never heard of before. The name literally means "don't know the time", and refers to chum salmon with bad timing, either failing to swim upstream to spawn or swimming upstream at the wrong time. They are rich in fat and have juicy soft flesh.

We ate it over rice, along with a clear soup made with asari clams and aosa seaweed. The salmon had been flavoured with nothing more than salt, but with its rich flavour and perfect grilling was truly fantastic. I have no idea if tokishirazu is available in Tokyo (or if the salmon in other countries have salmon with a similarly poor sense of timing), but I'll definitely buy it if I see it again.

This was my last full day in Hokkaido and I was already feeling sad. And very, very full.

More pictures of the trip can be seen here.

Shinjuku Gyoen

You didn't think I was finished with cherry blossoms yet, did you?

These pictures were taken at Shinjuku Gyoen, the best park in the city. It's a place I'm becoming more familiar with recently, thanks to a new class I'm teaching. As an extension of English Adventure's seasonal camps, the new Nature Club brings kids together twice a month to study nature in the outdoors, and Shinjuku Gyoen is where we do it. It may seem an odd place to study nature with its manicured lawns and well-maintained Japanese and European style gardens, but the park is blessed with some surprisingly wild areas. It's not quite the same as the amazing forest and seaside venues of English Adventure's regular camps, but given its convenient location there's no better venue for the Nature Club.

These pictures don't have much to do with the club, since we mostly stay away from the formal garden areas (but many of the pictures from my previous wildflower post were taken in the wilder areas of Shinjuku Gyoen where we study). But I'm at the park often now to scout for the lessons or to have a picnic afterward, so I get to see the photogenic areas as well.

These were taken over a few days in mid-April, a time when most of the cherry trees in the city had dropped their petals. Shinjuku Gyoen has such a wide variety of sakura that there were dozens of them still in bloom though, and there was a good number of people out enjoying some hanami (flower viewing).

 

After my first class my husband joined me for a picnic. I had been far too nervous and busy that morning to prepare a proper lunch so left it all up to him, and the grub above is what he came up with: several types of onigiri, a tray of greasy sausages, fried chicken, french fries and potato croquettes, a package of crunchy curry-flavoured snack things, and string cheese. Green tea to drink and a can of beer (discretely wrapped in a bag, as the park is alcohol-free) and for dessert, a package of Koala no March (koala-shaped cookies filled with chocolate). All classic convenience store food, and definitely not what I would have picked, but that's what happens when men do the shopping.

Among the many types of cherry trees in the park are a few of these rare green ones, which have a different kind of beauty from the usual pink varieties. There were plenty of other pretty and interesting plants, like the hime tsubaki camelia below, and it's going to take me many, many visits until I'm familiar with them all.

English Adventure is having a family picnic this Sunday (April 26th), so if you're curious about the Nature Club or other events this is a great chance to find out more; check here for more information. It's free and everyone is invited, and I'll be there. Hopefully with a lunch that was made by me rather than picked up at the combini.

See more pictures in my Shinjuku Gyoen album.

Neighborhood sakura (part two)

The sakura are now gone, or at least the somei yoshino (the most common type in Tokyo) are. It's always a little sad to see them go, but knowing that the cold weather is gone and summer is on its way is a nice condolence. And I did get some souvenirs to remember them by: hundreds and hundreds of pictures. Most aren't fit to show, but I'll share some of them here.

This is Oizumigakuen-dori, the road I use to get to Oizumigakuen station. For a few days a year, the cherry trees that line it come into bloom and take some of the attention away from the cars, electric wires, loud signs and ugly storefronts.

I'd almost say the street looks pretty this time of year.

The road abruptly ends just after crossing the border of Saitama, but a few blocks away are more cherry trees in Oizumichuo Koen, the park across the street from my house.

The park is dotted here and there with cherry trees, but most impressive (in a way I always fail to capture) are the trees that line the running track. The people who execise there really get a treat.

The park exits here, with a Jieitai (Japan Self Defence Force) base on the left a park called Wakojurin Koen on the right. Turning right at this intersection, this is what you see:

A cherry blossom tunnel. Not the same road as in this post (although that road is just a few minutes in the opposite direction), this street separates Oizumichuo Koen from Wakojurin Koen (and thus separates Tokyo, on the right, from Saitama, on the left).

Along the Tokyo/Oizumichuo Koen side is a section of lawn planted with shibazakura. Known as moss phlox or moss pink in English, the Japanese name means "lawn cherry", for its resemblance to cherry blossoms (you'd have to see it close up to really understand the name). I'm planning to visit a park known for its shibazakura this weekend, so stay tuned for more pictures.

Crossing the road and entering Wakojurin Koen brings more cherry trees, and more people enjoying them.

There are people picnicking,

taking pictures,

enjoying the view,

and napping. It's hardly surprising to see public nappers, as napping is Japan's national hobby. These three gentlemen seem especially good at it.

And now, before I bore you into a nap of your own, here are the rest of the pictures without comment.

Don't forget to look down

Sakura (cherry blossoms) command our attention when they are in bloom, and with good reason: they are stunning. The delicate flowers look beautiful close up, viewed from afar they blanket the landscape in fluffy pale pink masses of loveliness, and they are gorgeous when they drop from their branches petal by petal and float through the air. But as pretty as they are, it's a shame that sakura hog all the attention, because a whole host of wildflowers come into bloom at the same time. And although none of them may have the magic of cherry blossoms, each is beautiful in its own way.

So the next time you're out admiring the cherry blossoms, don't forget to look down. Here are some of the flowers you might see.

花大根 (ハナダイコン, hana daikon)
Orychophragmus violaceus
No common English name

Also known as 紫花菜 (ムラサキハナナ, murasaki hana-na), 諸葛菜 (ショカッサイ, shokassai) and other names, this is a very common flower throughout Japan, often seen along roads or train tracks. I imagine that the view of the flowers, even as nothing more than a purple blur rushing by, has brightened many a commuter's day.

蛇苺 (ヘビイチゴ, hebi-ichigo)
Duchesnea chrysantha
False strawberry, Indian strawberry, mock strawberry

As its names imply, hebi-ichigo is a strawberry impersonator, and a very convincing one. Its yellow flowers (the colour is a tip-off, as true strawberry flowers have white or pale pink petals) can be seen in the spring and the summer, with the centres eventually turning into a small red berry that looks delicious. The fruit is perfectly safe to eat, but there isn't much reason to do so as it is virtually flavourless.

烏野豌豆 (カラスノエンドウ, karasu no endou)
Vicia sativa
Common vetch

One of the prettiest weeds you'll find, karasu no endou (literally "crow's pea) looks like a miniature sweet pea. Although considered by many to be a weed, it a useful plant, grown for horse and cattle fodder. It is also edible by humans, widely consumed in ancient times and still eaten here in Japan, where the wild shoots and young seed pods are gathered and eaten as sansai (wild vegetable), most often sauteed or fried as tempura (both shown here).

花韮 (ハナニラ, hananira)
Ipheion uniflorum
Spring starflower

This pretty little flower is native to South America but naturalized in Japan. The stem and leaves give off a strong nira (garlic chive) smell when crushed, hence the name hananira (literally "garlic chive flower").

Unidentified fiddleheads

I know next to nothing about ferns so have no idea what these are (I do know that they are not warabi or zenmai, two of the edible types of ferns prized in Japan). A little bit of research online has shown that ferns are notoriously difficult to identify, so I may never find out what these are unless a kind and knowledgeable reader can help out. It also seems that "fiddlehead" is more of a culinary term, while scientists use the word "crozier" or "young frond". I think.

踊り子草 (オドリコソウ, odoriko-sou)
Lamium album var. barbatum
White dead nettle, bee nettle

I've noticed this plant for years, often confusing it with shiso (a culinary herb that can sometimes be found growing wild) due to their similar leaves. When seen in the spring, however, the flowers give it away as another species, which saves me from having to rub the leaves and be disappointed at the lack of shiso fragrance. But I've just found out that my disappointment has been unwarranted, as odoriko-sou is an edible plant. The shoots and young leaves are eaten as sansai, as are the flowers, which are most often prepared as tempura to preserve their pretty shape and sweet nectar. Odoriko-sou is also used in traditional medicine, both in Japan and its native Europe.

連銭草 (カキドウシ, kakidoushi)
Glechoma hederacea var. grandis
Ground ivy, catsfoot, creeping charlie

Kakidoushi is native to Europe, where it was once prized as a medicinal herb and an ingredient in beer (it added flavour and clarified cloudy brews in the days before hops were used). It has been naturalized in many parts of the world and is regarded in North America, despite the pretty little flowers, as an undesirable weed. It is still used in medicine in Japan (the plant is usually referred to as rensensou when used as a medicinal herb), most often as a tea used for reducing blood sugar and weight loss.

雪柳 (ユキヤナギ, yukiyanagi)
Spiraea thunbergii
Baby's breath spirea

Native to Japan and China, yukiyanagi can be found both as a wild plant and as a landscape shrub. The Japanese name literally means "snow willow", because of the snowy white flowers and the way the drooping branches resemble the weeping willow.

紫華鬘 (ムラサキケマン, murasaki-keman)
Corydalis incisa
No common English name

Murasaki-keman is named after the keman, a decoration found at Buddhist temples featuring intricate dangling chains that the flowers are thought to resemble (this makes a little more sense with kikeman, the yellow version).

山吹 (ヤマブキ, yamabuki)
Kerria japonica
Japanese yellow rose, kerria rose, yellow rose, Japanese kerria

Yamabuki is native to China and Japan but it's more likely, at least in Tokyo, to find it as an ornamental shrub. The Japanese name means "mountain spray", and the flower is much referred to in Japanese writing and art.

者莪 (シャガ, shaga)
Iris japonica
Fringed iris, Japanese iris

This small member of the iris family is rather unassuming, at least until you get up close and discover the delicate fringe and the pretty purple and yellow patterns on the petals. It originally came from China but has been naturalized in Japan, where it is found in shady areas, both as a cultivated and a wild plant.

常盤はぜ (トキワハゼ, tokiwahaze)
Mazus pumilus
Japanese mazus

These tiny little flowers can be seen from spring through to fall, and as lovely as they are they seem under-appreciated, as I can find very little information on them.

草苺 (くさいちご, kusa-ichigo), 野苺 (ノイチゴ, no-ichigo), 山苺 (ヤマイチゴ, yama-ichigo)
Rubus hirsutus
No common English name

This wild raspberry goes by a few different names, all of them misidentifying the fruit as a strawberry. Which is understandable as raspberries are called 木苺 (キイチゴ, ki-ichigo, literally "shrub strawberry"), but this unfortunately leads to a bit of confusion and the names seem to be used interchangeably for both wild strawberries and wild raspberries. But make no mistake, this flower will soon turn into a large reddish-orange raspberry that has a mild but delicious flavour and is as sought after by people as it is by birds and other animals.

芹葉飛燕草 (セリバヒエンソウ, seribahi-ensou)
Delphinium anthriscifolium
No common English name

This is another pretty flower with scanty information available. It was brought to Japan from China in the Meiji era (1868 to 1912) and I'll need to improve my Japanese if I want to know why.

繁縷 (ハコベ, hakobe)
Stellaria media
Common chickweed, winterweed

I tend not to notice these tiny flowers unless I'm already down on the ground looking at something else, but I'm always glad to see them as they're cute up close. Hakobe is one of the haru no nanakusa (seven herbs of spring), eaten after New Year's in okayu (rice porridge). (A bit off-topic, but I've just noticed that both the Japanese and English Wikipedia entries on nanakusa use my pictures. You'd think they could find something better.)

蔓日々草 (ツルニチニチソウ, tsuru-nichinichi-sou)
Vinca major
Large periwinkle, greater periwinkle, blue periwinkle

This pretty flower was introduced from Europe as an ornamental and is still most often seen in gardens, but it can occasionally be found growing in the wild.

丸葉菫 (マルバスミレ, maruba-sumire)
Viola keiskei
No common English name

One of the many varieties of sumire (violets) found in Japan.

立壷菫 (タチツボスミレ, tachitsubo-sumire)
Viola grypoceras A. Gray
No common English name

Another variety of violet, tachitsubo-sumire is one of the most common, and itself has a few variations (which my skills are not up to distinguishing).

大甘菜 (オオアマナ, oo-amana), オーニソガラム (oonisogaramu)
Ornithogalum umbellatum
Star-of-Bethleham, grass lilly, sleepydick

Native to Eurasia and northwest Africa, this plant has naturalized in much of Japan and is widely found in sunny fields. Considered in the west to be a medicinal herb and still used in holistic healing, it has edible bulbs that resemble garlic in appearance but not in smell or flavour. I'm guessing it's not very tasty as it's considered a famine food, only eaten when nothing else is available. The pretty flowers last just a few days and close up when night falls.　

春竜胆 (ハルリンドウ, haru-rindou)
Gentiana thunbergii
No common English name

This pretty blue flower can be found in sunny fields throughout most of Japan.

百合山葵 (ユリワサビ, yuri-wasabi)
Wasabia tenuis
No common English name

Yuri-wasabi is the wild version of wasabi, the plant grown for its spicy root which lends its flavour to sushi and other foods. Both wasabi and yuri-wasabi have edible leaves, with a similar wasabi-like flavour. The similarities end at ground level though, as yuri-wasabi has lilly-like bulbs (hence the Japanese name, which means "lilly wasabi") rather than the spicy rhizome of cultivated wasabi.

大犬の陰嚢 (オオイヌノフグリ, oo-inu-no-fuguri)
Veronica persica
Persian speedwell, birdeye speedwell, birds-eye

One of my favourite spring flowers and one of the earliest blooming, showing up as early as February. The name has long intrigued me, as it means "large dog's balls" (fuguri being a rather obscure word for testicles) yet looks nothing like any dog balls I've ever seen. Until today, when I saw a picture of the seed pod while researching this post, and what do you know? It really does look like dog balls (although I wouldn't exactly call them large). I'm greatly relieved to finally know where the name came from, as it means I can stop checking out dog's testicles. People were starting to talk.

二輪草 (ニリンソウ, nirin-sou)
Anemone flaccida
Soft windflower

The Japanese name means "two-flower grass", referring to the fact that most plants produce two flowers (although many, like the two below, produce just one and some produce three). "Soft windflower" is a literal translation of the Latin name and I'm not sure if this is the real common English name, as I only came across it on a few websites, all of them Japanese. There are very similar plants called ichirin-sou (one-flower grass) and sanrin-sou (three-flower grass), which as the names suggest produces one and three flowers respectively. So what makes me think that the two pictures below are of nirin-sou? It's just a guess, based on the other nirin-sou they were with as well as their bracts. I could be wrong though.

All pictures are mine, most taken this year in Tokyo with a few older pictures from Tokyo, Saitama and Kanagawa. I'm an amateur plant lover, so feel free to correct any mistakes I might have made.

Shakujii Koen

Last week Hideaki and I rode our bikes to Shakujii Koen, a park in Nerima ward that is said to be one of Tokyo's best. It's not too far away, but for some reason we haven't been since we moved nearby, and this was our first visit since I lived on the other side of the park, about 12 years ago. Because it's a little far out from central Tokyo it never gets really crowded, except maybe on the weekend when the cherry blossoms are at full bloom. This being a weekday and bit past the cherry blossoms' peak, we almost had the park to ourselves.

The park is divided into two sections, separated by a road. The west side is where we started, and this is where the people were at their fewest and the nature at its most abundant. I was surprised by the diversity of plant life, and while I didn't see as many birds as I'd expected (the park is well known for its waterfowl), we did get to see a pair of the parks famed kawasemi (kingfishers). There was, of course, no way I could get a picture of the shy birds, but hopefully the dozen or so ojiisan (grandfathers) with their giant lenses and professional looking cameras fared better. So here are some ducks instead, and without further comment, the rest of the pictures we took that day.

 

Shakujii Koen
03-3996-3950
1-26 Shakujiidai, Nerima-ku, Tokyo

To get there: a 10 minute walk south of Shakuji Koen station on the Seibu Ikebukuro line, or a 20 minute walk north of Kami Shakujii station on the Seibu Shinjuku line

Megurogawa Hanami

Last week Emi (in the red jacket, below) and I got together for more hanami, this time along the Megurogawa River. Again it was yozakura (night cherry blossoms), since that's all our work schedules allowed, and although the blossoms were at their peak and would have looked lovely in the daytime, I thought they looked pretty nice at night too.

Neighborhood sakura (and other flowers)

I'm really lucky to live in a area full of cherry blossoms. They're everywhere: lining the three kilometre long street that runs from Oizumigakuen station to my neighborhood (shown above, a few days before they were in full bloom),

overlooking the parking lot of the convenience store down the street,

in the garden of a large house nearby (I love the little katteguchi, a traditional service entrance far too small to fit through comfortably and only used for those not priviliged enough to use the driveway just one metre away),

on the other side of the intersection in front of our building (if only there were cherry trees on our side),

lining the street that runs from that intersection to Camp Asaka, a Jieitai (Self Defence Forces, Japan's defacto army) base,

right inside Camp Asaka (in fact, the best cherry blossoms of all are either inside or lining the base),

and at Wakojurin Koen, the park next to the base.

For now the flowers are staying on the trees, but there are a few fallen petals here and there, pretty reminders of the pink carpet we'll be seeing next week.

 

Cherry blossoms aren't the only flower out, of course. The petal below is from otometsubaki, a kind of camelia that blooms around the same time as sakura.

It's a lovely flower that unfortunately tends to get overlooked due to its timing and pale colour.

Yamabuki (kerria rose) is another flower that comes during sakura season, but it's very hard not to notice its blindingly bright colour.

And of course there's hakumokuren (yulan magnolia), which usually starts before the cherry blossoms but you'll often find them hanging on until mid April.

The cherry trees on the grounds of the fire station on the other side of the park were not yet at their peak when I passed by last week, but I had to take a picture of the firemen doing their training.

It makes me feel nice and safe having all these well-trained fire fighters nearby, not to mention a base full of soldiers (both will come in handy when the long predicted major earthquake hits Tokyo).

Oh yeah, and all those cherry trees aren't bad to have around either.

JapanSoc it!

Chidorigafuchi

On Tuesday after work I met my friend Emi for a little hanami (cherry blossom viewing) in Chidorigafuchi. It was a little too early and the sakura were just starting to open, but that was actually part of my plan: Chidorigafuchi gets incredibly crowded when the blossoms are at their peak. In fact, this is one of the places that I warned not to go to in my recent Alternative Hanami article, but the fact is that Chidorigafuchi, along with most of the other famous hanami spots, is rather conveniently located and easy for a quick evening visit.

Chidorigafuchi is the general name given to a large area, but the place to see the sakura is Chidorigafuchi Ryokudo, a path that follows a section of the Imperial Palace moat. The place holds a Sakura Matsuri (Cherry Blossom Festival) from late March to early April, the highlight of which is the lights (low energy LED lights, as the organizers are quick to point out) that illuminate the blossoms at night. It's one of those places where you can't actually sit down with a group of friends under the blossoms and drink sake all day: the sakura can only be seen from a path while you walk by. It is quite strictly controlled, with the path divided into two "lanes", and a security guard or volunteer will nicely ask you to keep moving if you block the path while taking pictures or will direct you to the correct late if you walk on the wrong side of the path.

There are plenty of benches along the way, but those who choose to use the benches for picnics will be asked to pack up. Although I did see a few people discretely enjoying a clandestine bento and some sake on the benches, including a few couples consisting of young women in a gorgeous kimono or pretty dress with older suited men (probably high class hostesses and their customers out on a date before they headed off to their clubs for the night). Other interesting people included several kind folks who asked us, while we were posing together, if we wanted them to take our picture despite the fact that we had a tripod and were doing just fine by ourselves. And then there were the old men who took pictures of us as we took pictures of the cherry blossoms or each other; I still can't decide if that was cute or creepy. And let's not forget the two ladies in front of us as we passed the Indian Embassy. There appeared to be some kind of event going on and among the crowd seen through the glass were, not surprisingly, plenty of Indian people. Which prompted one of the ladies to say "Indojin da!" (Indians!) and her friend to say "Waa, sugoi!" (Oh wow!). Which even if we weren't at the Indian Embassy I would have found hilarious, because Indians are not exactly rare in Tokyo (there's even a Little India here, one of the few ethnic areas in the city).

We had picked up a map when we started and took the recommended route, which was probably meant for daytime flower viewing because after the path ended we walked through the nearby Kitanomaru Koen Park, which was dark and any cherry trees that might have been there were pretty much invisible, with the exception of a few at each end of the park.

Then we dodged joggers (there were hundreds of them!) as we walked along a busy road that followed the moat; it was lined with cherry trees but they weren't lit up so it was hard to see them. Would have been much nicer in the daytime, especially with most of those joggers safely at work.

Finally we found ourselves right back at the beginning of Chidorigafuchi Ryokudo, so we took a few more pictures before heading home. It was actually quite a bit more crowded than these pictures suggest, and we had to wait quite a while to get shots that weren't full of people. I'm not thrilled with my pictures and have a lot to learn about night shots, but this is good incentive to learn. And this was a lovely place to visit, with or without camera skills. I recommend a visit during the day, but if you really want to come at night budget quite a bit of time, because the crowds move slowly. We took about three hours to complete our route, and that was with crowds about half of what they'd be during peak cherry blossom time. Which looks like it will be this weekend (Saturday really, because rain is forecast for Sunday) and early next week in Tokyo. Happy cherry blossom viewing!

Chidorigafuchi Ryokudo
Free entry (rowboats can be rented until 7:30 for 800 yen per half hour)
Blossoms will lit up from 6:30 to 10:00 nightly until April 5th (may be extended this year due to the late blooming of the sakura)
Nearest stations: Hanzomon and Kudanshita (signs in Japanese mark the way to and from Hanzomon and Chidorigafuchi; if you can't read Japanese just follow the crowds)

JapanSoc it!

Alternative Hanami

Note: I wrote this for SunnyPages (article seen here) but I'm running it here in slightly modified form with my own pictures. Hope you find it useful!

Tokyo has no shortage of good places to see sakura (cherry blossoms), but for some reason there are a few famous parks that get recommended over and over again. Not that there’s anything wrong with the well-known hanami (cherry blossom viewing) spots, but I feel it’s time that some of the less famous places got their due as well. So below is my list of famous hanami venues along with some lesser-known places to try instead.

A lot of the alternative spots are a bit off the beaten track, but if you’re up for a little train travel then consider this a good chance to get to see more of the city. Most places have at least a few yatai (food stalls) but prices can be high and lines can be long, so you may be better off packing a hanami bento (cherry viewing lunch box) or picking one up at a depachika (department store food hall) or convenience store on the way. Most spots also allow sit-down picnics and alcohol unless otherwise noted below, but rules vary between parks and are subject to change, and I recommend checking beforehand to make sure.

So read on to discover some new places to celebrate the spring, and have a happy hanami!

Why Ueno Koen is popular: The top hanami spot in Tokyo for 400 years running, people come to Ueno as much for the boisterous crowds as for the 1200 cherry trees; it also helps that Ueno is a centre of history and culture, with historic statues and shrines and a half dozen museums.
Why you might want to avoid it: Massive crowds; annoying drunks; the general shabby and run-down feeling of Ueno.
Where to try instead: For a similar carnival-like atmosphere, these three amusement parks hold festivals to celebrate their cherry blossoms: Toshimaen, Seibuen Yuenchi, and Yomiuri Land. If it’s culture you’re after, try Koganei Koen. It’s bigger than Ueno and has 1800 cherry trees, with fewer and friendlier people; the park also contains the Edo-Tokyo Tatemono-en (Edo Tokyo Open Air Architectural Museum), home to 27 relocated and reconstructed historic buildings; visitors can enter the buildings and view rooms filled with period furnishings.

Why Yasukuni Jinja is popular: The shrine holds a large and lively festival with about 200 yatai set up under 600 cherry trees. It also enshrines the souls of nearly 2.5 million people who died in World War II and other wars; the shrine’s cherry blossoms are symbolic of those short and glorious lives.
Why you might want to avoid it: Among the venerable war dead are over 1000 war criminals, a fact that continues to cause friction with Japan’s Asian neighbors.
Where to try instead: Aoyama Reien (Aoyama Cemetery, also called Aoyama Bochi), where you can honor a different kind of hero: the cemetery was founded in the Meiji Era and contains the graves of many of the people, both foreign and Japanese, who helped modernize Japan.

Why Chidorigafuchi Koen is popular: Some 260 trees line this section of the the Imperial palace moat and their reflection on the water makes a beautiful sight; boats can be rented on the moat for a different view of the flowers. At night the cherry trees are lit up and the view is spectacular.
Why you might want to avoid it: With no alcohol or sitting down permitted, only a walk-by hanami is possible here. And that’s a very slow walk-by, since Chidorigafuchi gets extremely crowded.
Where to try instead: Zenpukuji Koen has 200 sakura trees, a pond with boats for rent, and you can actually have a sit-down hanami.

Why Inokashira Koen is popular: 500 trees gracefully overhand a pond with boats for rent; the funky neighborhood of Kichijoji is nearby.
Why you might want to avoid it: Extremely crowded; the resident goddess Benzaiten is said to have put a curse on the pond that dooms visiting couples to a quick break up; those cheesy swan boats really spoil the view.
Where to try instead: Shakujii Koen and Senzoku-ike are a bit smaller and lack the hip location, but they have similar ponds with boats and are curse-free to boot.

Why Roppongi Hills is popular: The striking juxtaposition of the Mori Tower and other ultra-modern buildings behind the cherry blossoms; the trees are lit up at night to dramatic effect; shopping, dining and nightlife options abound nearby.
Why you might want to avoid it: The crowds; there’s no real place to do sit-down hanami.
Where to try instead: There’s also plenty to do around Yokohama's Kamonyama Koen; and the nearby Landmark Tower and other buildings can be seen behind the park's 2000 cherry trees, offering a contrast no less impressive than in Roppongi.

Why Shinjuku Gyoen is popular: Considered by many to be Tokyo’s best park, with sprawling lawns dotted with over 1300 sakura trees.
Why you might want to avoid it: the 200 yen admission fee; alcohol is not permitted; the park closes at 4:30pm.
Where to try instead: Kinuta Koen and Hikarigaoka Koen are similarly large but are free and won't kick you out before sundown.

Why Rikugien is popular: This traditional Japanese garden contains a single shidare-zakura (weeping cherry tree) that is gorgeous during the day and spectacular at night when it is lit up.
Why you might want to avoid it: Ridiculously long lines to enter the park; forget about getting a good picture because the immense crowds will block your view.
Where to try instead: Hamarikyu Onshi Teien and Koishikawa Korakuen are similar landscape gardens, and though they don’t light their sakura up at night the thinner crowds make both parks worth a visit.

Why Meguro Gawa is popular: 800 cherry trees line the Meguro River centering on the trendy neighborhood of Naka Meguro; lanterns strung on either side of the river illuminate the flowers at night; yatai and special events abound.
Why you might want to avoid it: The crowds; insufferably hip locals; the fact that the river is actually more of a canal, completely encased in concrete.
Where to try instead: Nomigawa Ryokudo and Zenpukuji River are similarly sakura-lined canals with views that are just as pretty and fewer people, especially at Zenpukuji.

Why Yoyogi Koen is popular: It’s a big park with wide-open spaces and lots going on nearby; dogs enjoy frolicking in the dog run, one of the few places in the city dogs can shed their leashes.
Why you might want to avoid it: The park doesn’t actually have that many cherry trees.
Where to try instead: Kokuei Showa Kinen Koen is an enormous park in Tachikawa with 1500 cherry trees and a huge variety of other plant life; there’s lots to do for humans and dogs get plenty of space as well, with two runs each for large and small dogs.

Why Sumida Koen is popular: 680 trees line the Sumidagawa River near Asakusa station; street lamps and hanging pink lanterns make them especially beautiful at night when seen from the opposite riverbank.
Why you might want to avoid it: No special reason, except that the cherry blossoms look nicer from the river than on land.
Where to try instead: A cruise on the Sumidagawa River. If you’re lucky you can snag a reservation for a yakatabune (traditional pleasure boat), most of which have all-you-can-eat and drink plans, but a ride on the Suijo Bus’s Sumida River Line is more affordable, starting at 760 yen. For a slightly higher fee Suijo Bus offers night cruises to see the yozakura (cherry blossoms at night); 2500 yen gets you a package that includes a drink, snacks and a performance by a troupe of furisode-san (geisha-like entertainers).

So what are you waiting for? Get out there, see the cherry blossoms, and discover a new part of Tokyo.

JapanSoc it!

Early hanami

Since discovering the early blooming cherry tree in our local park, we've been meaning to go back for hanami (cherry blossom viewing) and this weekend finally gave us some good picnic weather. It was still a bit chilly though, so rather than make up a proper hanami bento (cherry blossom viewing lunchbox) we just picked up a few snacks at a nearby take-out place.

It's still not officially hanami season, since few cherry trees have started blooming, but the early bloomer I'd found last month had already dropped all of its flowers. Luckily the tree beside was also an early bloomer, and although the flowers were past their peak there were still enough to make this a good hanami spot. And because it was early for hanami there was nobody else out celebrating the flowers, except for a dozen or so mejiro (Japanese white eye, one of the cutest birds ever) who seemed to think they were in heaven and treated the tree like an all-you-can-eat flower buffet. They tend to move about so quickly that I've never been able to photograph one, but here are a few pictures of the sakura (cherry blossoms):

Above was our view, and below was our lunch:

Takoyaki (octopus dumplings) from the takoyaki stand across the street, and beer (happoshu actually) from the convenience store. Takoyaki are small balls of eggy batter filled with chopped octopus and topped with aonori (flaked nori seaweed) and katsuobushi (bonito flakes).

The takoyaki stand has recently started selling imagawayaki (a pancake-like batter filled with something sweet, also called obanyaki or taikoyaki), so we picked up a couple for dessert. There are two flavours: custard cream and the more orthodox anko (sweet red bean paste). And if you're wondering why I am including my grass-covered legs in the picture, it's called foreshadowing.

The first time we bought these, a few weeks ago, the takoyaki lady told us that the custard cream one was identifiable by the aonori on one side. We thought we'd misheard but sure enough one of our treats was green on one side. It was so odd that we assumed she'd just run out of some other more appropriate ingredient for differentiating the flavours, like black sesame seeds or something, and had quickly substituted with the takoyaki ingredients she had on hand.

But the aonori was there again this time, so it seems to be a regular thing. I don't like creamy fillings so I didn't try it, but I believe my husband when he says that aonori and custard cream are a terrible match. My anko-filled imagawayaki was delicious, or at least the two bites of it I got were.

And then I dropped it on the filthy ground. Not a surprising thing for me to do at all, and I should have known enough to have brought a blanket or tarp to protect my food. But no, it fell straight onto a pile of last year's grass.

With a couple of bonus dog hairs as well.

I'm just glad it didn't fall onto one of the many ant holes we discovered we were sitting on. Actually I was really tempted to dip my sullied imagawayaki in the ants to get a more impressive picture (I swear the spot above was crawling with ants before I pointed my camera at it--who knew that ants could be camera shy?), but as I'm long past my ant-torturing stage I decided against it. I hope they like the crumbs we left for them.

Next week if the weather is nice we'll try again. With a better lunch and proper ground covering.

Spring Flowers Part Two

It's hard to choose favourites, but of all the sweet-smelling flowers of spring I think jinchoge (sweet daphne) is the best, with its lovely fragrance that is strong enough to make you stop in your tracks, without being cloying. We have bushes of jinchoge at our apartment's front entrance and every time I come home the smell greets me from metres away, then fills up our lobby, and wafts up the stairs as I make my way inside. As a bonus they are also very pretty little flowers.

Here's a surprise: when I was taking pictures of ume and other flowers in Wako Jurin park last month, the park security guard came by and struck up a conversation. He knows me from my morning walks so we're kind of buddies (unlike the security guard in the adjoining Oizumi Chuo park, who is my mortal enemy), and after a brief chat he told me that some sakura were blooming. I wasn't sure if I had heard right (this was February 18th, a good month and a half before this tree should be in bloom) but he repeated himself, and then he grandly extended his arm in the direction of the alleged early bloomer and said "Douzo". As if he were the Emperor of Japan inviting me to his own personal garden or something.

So I followed his arm and indeed there was a cherry tree in bloom, or it least part of a cherry tree in bloom. Why the buds on this section of this tree decided to pop open early is a mystery and while I was taking pictures several people (generously invited by the security guard, no doubt) came by to marvel at the sight.

Next time I see my security guard buddy I'll ask him if it happens every year or if this was just some freak occurrence. But for now I'll just enjoy this unexpected herald of spring, and hope the rest of the sakura come out soon as well.

JapanSoc it!

Spring Flowers

How could I have forgotten the pictures I took of these lovely flowers last month? February was a busy flower month at the local park, with ume (Japanese apricot), roubai (wintersweet), mansaku (witch hazel) and even sakura (cherry blossoms) all in bloom. These flowers here are roubai, which literally means "wax ume" due to the waxy appearance of the petals; the English name refers to its early blooming season and the sweet smell the flowers release.

This is mansaku, another sweet-smelling yellow flower. Actually, it also comes in orange (as seen above) and the fragrance is much more subtle than roubai--I find it similar to kinmokusei (sweet olive, an early autumn flower). The flowers are a bit odd, starting with buds of tightly curled petals which unfurl into long wispy spears.

 

These flowers are on the far side of the park, a place I rarely get to these days, but I'm sure they're all gone by now. It's hard to feel sad though, knowing that cherry blossom season is just around the corner...

JapanSoc it!

Ume in bloom

Spring is officially on its way: the ume are in bloom! Actually, they've been blooming for a few weeks and some are already past their peak, but these ones were still lovely when I took a walk through my local park yesterday. Called Prunus mume in latin, this is the same tree that produces the astringent fruit that is turned into umeboshi (pickled plums) and umeshu (ume liqueur). Both the flowers and fruit are called ume in Japanese, and in English they go by several names; I prefer the more correct "Japanese apricot" or just "ume" to "plum", the common but inaccurate name.

These ume here, sadly, won't become much at all except maybe lunch for the birds, since the pretty decorative flowers don't make good fruit (edible ume have plain white flowers). But cheering people up with their pretty flowers and sweet scent is just as worthy a service as feeding us, and they do their job very nicely.

Oooh, that reminds me: time to check last year's umeshu! It was lovely at the last tasting around Christmas, and it should be just about done.

JapanSoc it!

Autumn Sunday

Last week Hideaki and I went out to say goodbye to the autumn leaves. We started at our local park, where a few momiji (Japanese maples) were still showing their colors. That was pretty much it, with all other deciduous trees in the park having long lost their leaves, except for these fiery red bushes (I don't suppose anyone knows what they are?)

Then we took the subway to Roppongi for what we thought would be brunch, but it turns out that our favorite brunch spot, Roti, doesn't really do brunches anymore. Not knowing what to do, we stayed and just had lunch: I had a very nice salad (with apple, blue cheese, pecans and beets) and some crab cakes (dry and a bit bland) and we shared some fries. They came with shaved Parmigiano and truffle oil, which were tasty but unnecessary, since the fries were really good to begin with.

It wasn't a terrible meal but it wasn't brunch so we couldn't help but be disappointed, and now we are on the lookout for a new brunch place (if anyone has recommendations do pipe up in the comments).

From there we walked to Aoyama, stopping at the Honda showroom to see the cars and motorcycles. We also got to see Asimo, Honda's robot mascot, doing a little demonstration of the stuff it can do, which is pretty much just walk around, wave, and play pre-recorded messages in an annoying voice. I think I was supposed to be more impressed. After the demonstration people lined up to get their pictures taken with Asimo, and in most cases the dads were way more into it than the kids (they guy above was wearing a Honda jacket and had a little Asimo action figure). My husband, a Honda fan himself, was more into the motorcycles, and he had a little fun sitting on his dream bike.

Next it was Icho Namiki (Ginkgo Avenue), the street that connects Aoyama Dori to Meiji Jingu Gaien. The ginkgoes that line the street were a touch past their peak, having lost many of their leaves to the previous weeks' wind and rain, but were still a beautiful sight. We weren't the only ones who thought so, and the place was packed with people enjoying the view, including lots of families. It was so cute to watch the little kids' reaction--they were just delighted to see the piles of yellow leaves on the ground, and every single kid's first instinct was to grab a pile of leaves and throw them in the air. I don't know why they are all compelled to do that but it sure is cute, and made me wish I was a bit less shy about taking pictures of strangers.

At the end of the street Jingu Gaein was transformed into a festival to celebrate the leaves. We had a few snacks and checked out a section where people could write down their wishes on little ginkgo leaf cut-outs. The Japanese seem to love this kind of thing, and when seasonal occasions like Tanabata (where wishes are written on strips of paper and hung on bamboo branches)and New Year's (when wishes and prayers are written on wooden ema votives and hung at shrines) aren't enough, they'll just go ahead and make something up like this.

A little example of wishes is above. The middle and bottom left leaves wish for a Hanshin Tigers victory next year (funny, since Meiji Jingu's main point of interest is Meiji Jingu Stadium, home of Tigers rivals Yakult Swallows). The top right leaf is a wish for Masayuki and Hiroko to be together forever, and the bottom right leaf wishes to win the lottery.

May all those wishes come true (especially the Tigers victory)!

More pictures here.

Mitake Hike

On the last day of November a friend and I went to Mitake-san (Mount Mitake) in the Okutama area of western Tokyo for a day of hiking. It was my second visit to the mountain, but as I haven't been in over a decade this time pretty much felt like my first.

Mitake is just 929 metres high, but is popular with hikers and has been an important sacred mountain since it was founded in 90 BC. Many pilgrims and regular tourists choose to spend the night--there are a number of minshuku (inns) as well as a hostel and shrine lodgings--but as Mitake can be reached from central Tokyo in under two hours, most people make it a day trip. The mountain is most easily reached by bus and cable car from Mitake Station; alternatively it can be reached on foot from Mitake, Sawai, Kawai and Kori Stations, which will give you pretty views of the Tama-gawa river before you get to the mountain. Once on top of the mountain there are a number of hiking courses, including paths that connect to other spots in Okutama like Hinode-yama and Otake-san.

We chose the easy way to get there, taking the bus and cable car, but had a full day of hiking after that: once we'd visited the shrine we walked through the "Rock Garden" (a valley full of moss-covered rocks with a path that follows a pretty stream) then headed to Hinode-yama (another small peak). And finally we had a wonderful soak at Tsuru-tsuru Onsen, a popular hot spring at the foot of Hinode-yama, before taking a bus to Musashi Itsukaichi Station on the JR Itsukaichi Line.

All told we walked about 10 km: just enough to be challenging, but as there was more downhill walking than uphill it really wasn't very hard. And we had beautiful weather--cold and sunny with beautiful blue skies--and saw some very pretty autumn colours, with the momiji (Japanese maples) just at their peak. It was a great hike, and there isn't much more to say: I'll let the pictures tell the story (more pictures from the hike can be seen in my Mitake album on Flickr).

To get to Mitake, take the JR Ome Line (transfer from the Chuo Line at Tachikawa and the Seibu Shinjuku Line at Haijima) to Mitake Station. To the left of the station is a Visitors Centre (pop in to grab a map--the English one isn't great so get the regular Japanese one as well) and across the street is the bus stop. The hike can start here, or take the bus (270 yen, marked Takimoto or Cable Car Shita) partway up the mountain. After getting off the bus a short walk up the road leads to a paved path up the mountain on the left or the cable car on the left. The cable car (570 yen) takes you to Mitake Village, which has another Visitors Centre as well as souvenir shops, restaurants, and inns, and from there it's about 20 minutes to the shrine. Paths to the Rock Garden and Hinode-yama are fairly well-marked, but often in Japanese only. Once you're on the way to Hinode-yama look for signs to Tsuru-tsuru Onsen (also called Bijin no Yu) and follow those to Hinode-yama; the signs will continue to guide you down the mountain. Once you've descended you'll hit a main road: turn left and it's a few minutes to the onsen (800 yen, not including a towel: bring your own or buy a small one for 200 yen). From there you can take the onsen's own bus (390 yen, a touristy thing designed to look like an old-fashioned steam engine) to Musashi Itsukaichi Station on the JR Itsukaichi Line, which will bring you to Haijima where you can transfer to the Chuo or Seibu Shinjuku Lines.
Further information in English here and Japanese here.

JapanSoc it!

Koyo in Tokyo

The Japanese are a people seriously infatuated with the seasons, and one of the greatest expressions of that obsession is the love of koyo. Koyo literally means “red leaves” but is used for all colors of autumn foliage, and in this season it seems the entire country goes mad for it. As with cherry blossom viewing in the spring, people flock, cameras in tow, to famous gardens and parks to view the changing colors of the leaves. But unlike cherry blossom viewing, autumn foliage viewing seldom involves lively picnics and sake drinking: the impending fall of the leaves is more conducive to long walks and quiet reflection.

News reports track the koyo saizensen(autumn leaf front) as it moves across the country, starting in September in Hokkaido and moving roughly southwest from there throughout the land. Tokyo is one of the last places reached by the front, with the leaves generally beginning to turn in early November and peak in late November and early December.

The quintessential autumn tree is the momiji (Japanese maple), with its delicate leaves turning a fiery red late in the season. Icho (ginkgo) is another favorite; its fan-shaped leaves turn a deep golden-yellow. A number of other trees are also noted for colorful foliage, such as keyaki (zelkova), hazenoki (wax tree), sakura (cherry) and hanamizuki (dogwood), but icho and momiji are definitely the king and queen of autumn.

Trees can be seen displaying their fall foliage all over the city and even a trip to the local park is bound to impress. But it’s worth making a trip to see some especially beautiful examples of autumn leaves, and the following is a list of recommended koyo spots in and around Tokyo.

Perhaps the prettiest autumn leaves in the city can be found along Icho Namiki (Ginkgo Avenue), which connects Aoyama Dori to Meiji Jingu Gaeien. Just 300 meters long, what the avenue lacks in length is more than made up for in grandeur: it is lined with 146 magnificent gingko trees dating back to the Taisho period, when they were planted in commemoration of the Meiji Emperor. The trees are nice enough in the summer when their greenery lends the avenue a refined, European feel, but when the leaves turn color in the autumn they are simply stunning. From November 16th to December 14th, when the leaves are at their peak, Meiji Jingu Gaien will hold its 10th annual Icho Matsuri (Ginkgo Festival), with the nearby sports fields filled with food and drink stalls, a market, free entertainment and more.

Two of Tokyo’s best traditional Japanese landscape gardens are Rikugien and Koishikawa Korakuen, and they are both planted with hundreds of well-manicured koyo-bearing trees. Rikugien is especially worth an evening visit between November 22^nd and December 14^th, when the trees are lit up. The lights are on nightly from sunset to 9:00pm; expect crowds on weekends. Further afield, Sankein in Yokohama features stunning traditional gardens housing a collection of Edo period buildings; the park lights up the autumn leaves nightly from November 20^th to December 21^st.

Large western-style parks like Shinjukugyoen and Yoyogi Koen are more inviting for picnics and strolling, each with thousands of trees planted on spacious grounds. Suburban parks such as Showa Kinen Koen, Hikarigaoka Koen, Shikinomori Koen, and Inokashira Koen will also be filled with autumn color.

Autumn is a great time for walking and hiking in the mountains, and there is no shortage of peaks within easy reach of Tokyo. Takao-san, a diminutive but sacred mountain in western Tokyo, is one of the best, and on December 7^th English Adventure will hold an Autumn Foliage Walk, a guided hike on the mountain open to all ages and nationalities. The Okutama area in western Tokyo has plenty of spots for autumn leaf viewing, including Okutamako (Okutama Lake) and Mitake-san (Mount Mitake). Nagatoro Keikoku (Nagatoro Gorge) is also pretty in the autumn, and the Arakawa Rhine Kudari lets you see the foliage from a traditional wooden raft as it makes its way over the rapids of the Arakawa River.

Getting further away from Tokyo, Kamakura makes a lovely day trip, with so many of the temples and shrines planted with momiji and icho trees to earn comparisons to Kyoto (considered the ultimate place to see the autumn leaves). Engakuji, Kaizoji, Hasedera, Meigetsuin and Tsurugaoka Hachimangu especially recommended. The hills and forests surrounding Kamakura offer several hiking trails with good autumn color as well; the Daibutsu Hiking Trail is one of the best. Hakone makes a great weekend trip, with Ashinoko (Lake Ashi)and Hakone Kyukaido (a section of the Edo period Tokaido Highway) being good places to see some fall color; Susuki Sogen features another type of autumn foliage: fields of golden susuki (pampas grass). Nikko and Chuzenjiko (Lake Chuzenji)are gorgeous in the fall, especially the Ryuzu no Taki and Kegon no Taki waterfalls, and also in Tochigi are Nasu and Shiobara, which have both pretty fall colors and wonderful onsen (hot springs).

So grab your camera, put on some comfortable shoes, and go out there!

JapanSoc it!

Summer's end?

I'm back in Japan with all of my summer jobs and travels over, and while I'm glad to have the time to slow down and relax I am no where near ready for summer itself to end. Certainly I'm happy that the awful heat and humidity of midsummer Tokyo is gone, but there is enough warmth lingering in the air to fool me into thinking summer is still here, that there is still time to do all the hikes and picnics and barbeques and camping trips that I didn't get around to.

And then today I noticed it on my morning walk: a red spider lilly in full bloom, signalling the arrival of autumn. I like to think of it as my birthday flower, as it's abundant in early October just when I'm celebrating my big day, but in Japanese it's called higanbana: literally "equinox flower", as the blooms begin to appear around late September. Whatever you call it, the flower's presence announces the end of summer, and as lovely as it is I was not happy to see it.

And then upon closer inspection I noticed the blossom was hosting a guest: a brand-new cicada, still pale green in places after emerging from its skin. This cheered me up immensely, because if the cicadas are still coming out of the ground then summer's not over. The next time time I passed the spider lilly (it was just off of a one kilometre track) the cicada had turned dark brown, and on my third pass it had flown off to join the army of cicadas in the trees. I wish it well.

So was the lilly early, or the cicada late? I'm not sure, but as long as the weather stays warm I'm going to keep considering it summer, and pay no attention to what the flowers say.