Last week I made a pilgrimage to my favorite places for "ohanami," cherry-blossom viewing. They were late this year. The cold weather and rain were enough to make us all but give up, but that day the sun came out and so did the blossoms. Once in a rare while, when they bloom while it is still cold, there will be snow, breathtaking white flakes settling on the delicate pink petals. I hope that some season you can have that experience.
Many of you must be aware of the massive Mori reconstruction project that stretches from Asahi-dori down to the soon to be demolished Sweden Center at the edge of Azabu-juban. Midway down the slope is a pond surrounded by cherry trees. It was always private property but still open to anyone who found his/her way in. One morning I went early and watched a TV team filming a languid Heian lady and her lover in a boat. It did not seem at all strange. It was as if they had more reason to be there than I. Today a high fence keeps out casual intruders, but I could see the old Argentine Embassy residence was gone, how sad. What a grand place it once was, but gradually it had become too old to repair and a new building was built nearby. Now it, too, is a part of the project. Surprisingly, the cherry trees had not yet been cut down, and since there was a small space in the fence large enough to squeeze through, I did. The workmen pretended I wasn't there -- it was rather late in the day and most had left -- so I had what I thought would be a last look at the trees, a pink oasis in the midst of chaos. Around them stone lanterns were toppled, other trees were uprooted, a bamboo grove was flattened, and only a few walls with gaping holes that once were windows were still standing among the piles of cement and twisted metal. It was like a wartime disaster zone. I asked the workmen what would happen to the trees. I was relieved to hear that when the Mori forces have remade this vast space, somewhere in the middle, every spring, there will be these spectacular blossoms. So now I visualize it, a downward slope, maybe a stream and a few waterfalls, paths, and hopefully benches, so people can sit and enjoy it. I had driven along a back street from Asahi-dori to the Sweden Center and every one of the buildings was marked for destruction. It was a ghost town, eerie. I once knew it as my neighborhood.
Then I went on to Jun Ashida's show of fall couture fashions -- what beautiful clothes he creates, so elegant, such wondrous fabrics. It was at the Akasaka Prince Hotel and I parked at the old building, originally a palace -- under the cherry blossoms. I am always pleased to see it is still there, even though it is diminished by the high-rises around it.