Daily life in the teeming
metropolis of Tokyo is lived in such a blur of technology,
bright lights and concrete that it is hard to imagine the
city ever had another face. Yet not so long ago Tokyo was
a gentler place; a city of overgrown villages and gardens,
where children and dragonflies could dart among the flowers.
One
of Japan's most respected architects, Fumihiko Maki, grew
up in Tokyo in the 1930s, and he recalls a green, breathing
city that stirred the imagination.
"In the yamanote, or
'upper town', where I lived," he has said, "streets were
often shadowed by big trees and were dark in the evenings.
Small streets and narrow alleys were unpaved. After it
rained, the smell of the earth and vegetation permeated
the air."
He remembers chrysanthemum displays, mysterious
nooks and byways, people strolling in the cool of the evening
and children setting off fireworks in summer. Those scenes,
he says, recalled the earlier city of Edo, which was once "the
biggest metropolis in the world, and arguably the world's
greatest garden city."
Unfortunately, in the last 60-odd
years since American bombs obliterated much of old Tokyo,
rocketing land prices have left little space for greenery.
Even public spaces have been eaten up, or, like the shogun's
historic garden at Hamarikyu, surrounded by expressways
and skyscrapers.
Yet
nature lovers need not despair: for here and there, in
the most unexpected corners, Tokyo erupts into swaying
grasses, perfumed peonies, and all the green, leafy things
that bring hope and comfort to our lives. And in "A Flower
Lover's Guide to Tokyo" by
Sumiko Enbutsu, you will learn exactly where to find these
precious shreds of Eastern Eden.
"A Flower Lover's Guide" is
the most useful kind of guide book. Easy to use, with a simple
structure and attractive illustrations, it will have walkers,
photographers, sketchers and nature lovers itching to explore.
While
there are already several English-language reference books
on Japanese plants, Enbutsu's new book fills a gap because
she aims to reveal their rich cultural associations. With
a light touch, she takes the reader on a colorful odyssey
focused on 15 selected plants that, for centuries, have spoken
to the religious, poetic or artistic soul of Japan.
Not surprisingly,
her seasonal tour starts in spring, when the all-important
cherry blossoms breathe new life into the nation. Buzzing
on through the seasons like a happy bee, she casts her eye
over botanical beauties such as irises, wisteria and plum
blossoms, as well as some less obvious choices like narcissus
and bush clover.
The book guides us to some well-known parks
and gardens such as Shinjuku Gyoen, but introduces other
small and quirky gardens too. For example, the Mukojima
Hyakka-en Garden may be modest but it is a good place to
see all the rustic flowers long praised in Japanese verse.
This "garden of a hundred flowers" was created around 1805
by a Nihonbashi antique dealer, who not only had artistic
taste but a wry disregard for the formal gardens of the
nobility, where every clipped pine and polished pebble
knew its place.
Although Enbutsu's English is clear and
fluent, she occasionally produces some impressionistic
Japanese prose. Of cherry blossoms, for example, she enthuses: "The
Japanese flowering cherry evokes joyful emotions in all
who see it. People fascinated by its irresistible beauty
perceive something human emanating from the tree and become
even more drawn to its allure."
Or again, describing peonies
near the Tosho-gu Shrine in Ueno — which I recall
as a dusty, neglected spot: "Visitors inhaling the flower's
delicious perfume experience a dreamlike sense of fascination
as they ramble about the rectangular gardens."
However,
the author's flowery caprices are few and the interesting
details are many.
We learn, for example, that wisteria likes
nothing better than an occasional tipple of sake. And that
the trancelike swaying of shamans probably gave lilies
their name (yuri, meaning "lily," may come from yureru, meaning "to
sway"). Also that samurai were highly jealous of each other's
iris collections. And that, just an hour from Ueno, we
can still see ancient tumuli and brush past lotus flowers
grown from 1,000-year-old seeds. (The ancient seeds were
unearthed by construction work in the 1970s and miraculously
still had life.)
Particularly successful sections include
the chapter on pine trees and camellias. Here, for example,
is her description of a shattered soul from Hiroshima making
a life-changing discovery in 1947: "While wandering on
the ruined Ginza streets, Adachi happened to see a partially
unfolded scroll on display in the dimly lit window of an
antique dealer. He was dazzled by the colorfully painted
camellias. . . . Immediately negotiating with the shopkeeper
to hold it until he returned with money, he managed to
scrape together enough to purchase the hand-painted [scroll]."
Becoming
obsessed with camellias, Adachi thereafter rescued many
rare varieties from all over Japan, which we can still
find flourishing in a Yokohama park.
With her longtime experience
as a columnist for this newspaper (including a series titled "Flower Walks"),
one feels confident that Enbutsu has double-checked her
facts, directions and maps. In addition, as an observant
walker, she jots down a notable view, old temple or handsome
tree that the reader might enjoy en route. Pointing out
the odd cafe or noodle shop is also a good idea.
Small enough
to pop in your handbag or pocket, the book includes attractive
photographs by Michiru Unae. He captures, for example,
the fresh radiance of a lotus, and the gorgeous, golden
filigree of maple leaves in autumn.
Alas, the great garden
city is no more, but with this guide to hand and a few
hours to spare, the busy streets will turn to seasonal
paths, dewy with the promise of flowers.
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