April 15, 2025. This was my second trip to Japan. My first was scarcely 6 months earlier, when we spent 6 weeks traveling to many cultural, historical, and spiritual places around Honshu. I loved the fall colors of the first trip and was eager to admire the cherry blossoms I’d heard so much about, as well as explore northern Honshu and Hokkaido.

The two movies I watched on the long flight helped make it a shorter trip. Movies on flights are always a treat for me, as I don’t normally watch programs at home. After landing in Narita we gathered our luggage and boarded a bus to Tokyo. On the way I caught sight of a huge tulip farm complete with windmill. From afar, the brilliant colors and complex patterns rivaled large tulip farms I’d visited in Skagit Valley, Washington. From the Tokyo station we took a maze of trains, arriving 45 minutes later at the stop near our AirBnb in the Fukagawa neighborhood of Tokyo. Hungry, we dropped our stuff and found a decent noodle izakaya a few doors down. We were 16 hours behind California time, and exhausted. The AirBnb was a strange dimension, narrow and long. It appeared to be an apartment divided in half the long way. Wasn’t the last.  

April 16. We woke at 4:30 am, not my usual, and watched the sky lighten. Hello jet lag. Here cafes don’t open till 11 or noon so we had to wait many hours for a latte. I  was excited to see the cherry trees in Ueno Park. I was hoping they were still abloom. We headed to the train around 7am and I got to experience a bit of the crush of commute hour. When we arrived at the station, we walked up and over the giant pedestrian overpass that connects a very urban cityscape with Ueno Park. The cherry blossoms had peaked, but the tree were still very beautiful. Shawn wanted to get a cappuccino, so we stopped at Starbucks. Starbucks in Japan are not like those in other countries. They feature delectable pastries like Mont Blanc (chestnut paste and Chantilly with meringue) for reasonable prices like $4, always in uniquely built buildings in beautiful locations. We sat at one of the tables outside, enjoying the sun, latte, and cake. I had thought there would be festivities in the park since there was supposedly a cherry blossom festival still going on, but didn’t see any.

After our respite we headed to the Tokyo National Museum, housed in several buildings on a large parcel of land within the park. I hadn’t planned to go back, as we’d been there in November on my first trip, but I was intrigued by “Ukiyo-e in Play: Artists Re-Working the Traditions of Woodcut Prints” to exhibit the following week. I hoped there would be some introductory material about this exhibit. We headed to the Gallery of Horyuji Treasures, a modern wing of the Tokyo National Museum displaying 7th-century art, calligraphy & sculpture. Outside was a reflecting pool and gorgeous cherry tree whose blossoms kept fluttering into the water, helped by a steady breeze. Inside, I admired the Kanjō-ban, a gilt bronze banner for the Kanjō ceremony. It was stunning in its intricacy. The second floor displayed 49 gilt bronze Buddhist statues no more than 16 inches in height believed to have been used for private worship by local rulers. These repoussé images could be mass-produced by placing a thin sheet of bronze over a relief image of a Buddhist divinity and hammering it into shape. In Japan, repoussé images flourished from the second half of the 7th to the early 8th century and were mostly hung on the walls of temple halls or kept in small shrines for private worship.

Another room featured metalwork, mainly Buddhist objects used by practitioners as offerings or daily by priests. There were also Esoteric Buddhist ritual implements used to strike the hours or transmit a signal. Many were made in China and the Korean Peninsula or strongly influenced by works from there. Some of the masterpieces included an incense burner with magpie tail-shaped handle (the oldest in Japan), a bronze mirror donated by Empress Kōmyō in 736, and an ink cake stand, water holder, and spoon used by Prince Shōtoku when he wrote the Hokke Gisho annotations on the Lotus Sutra. In the basement I discovered the Digital Gallery of Hōryūji Treasures. I particularly loved the ten panels comprising the Illustrated Biography of Prince Shōtoku, which depicted scenes and places related to the prince’s life, originally adorning the Picture Hall of Hōryū-ji Temple. 

My mind full of these beauties, I walked to the Heiseikan building which houses an archaeology exhibit of objects important to the Jomon and other indigenous peoples of Japan. I spent several hours greatly absorbed. As I exited, I was delighted to discover an exhibit titled “Shin-hanga: Japanese Woodblock Prints after Ukiyo-e”. It featured the 42 intermediate prints in the making of “Zōjōji Temple in Snow” by Hasui Kawase. The final woodblock depicts 3 people in front of the temple huddling under umbrellas at dusk as snow courses down in large flakes.

From there I headed to the main building of the Tokyo National Museum to revisit the permanent collection seen 6 months earlier. Shawn was hunting for a woodblock print to purchase from the museum store. He ended up purchasing “White Fox Among Autumn Flowers” and “The Grounds of Kameido Tenjin Shrine” from the series “One Hundred Famous Views of Edo”. I imagined what they would look like on the wall of our house.

We found a nice restaurant inside the museum grounds that was quite good and reasonably priced. We ordered a set lunch and I was impressed at the quantity of food. The quality was a given. There had been times on my first trip when I was still hungry after eating dinner. It was nice to feel full. We returned to the permanent collection till closing, then walked to Kanei-ji temple and mausoleum, which had been one of the most important temples in Tokyo.  

The carved gate in front of the mausoleum was stunning. I marveled at the craftsmanship of Japanese artisans. I was surrounded by their works of beauty. I wanted to squeeze a little more out of the day, and decided to walk the few minutes to the Bentendo shrine on the island in Shinobazuno Pond. It was nice to walk around at dusk and see all the people walking around and enjoying the waning light. I walked around the pond and wished I’d known about Shitamachi Museum which depicts the historical culture of lower town as the name implies with replicas of a tenement house and merchant home with antiques. The merchants in that area were primarily clog makers. Next to the museum was a cutaway showing the ancient road and a bridge that had once crossed the river (now pond). 

April 17. We awoke at dawn and caught a commuter train to the station near the Japan Folk Crafts Museum, which we had also explored last time we were in Tokyo. We both loved the neighborhood and the quaint museum. The current exhibit explored the question of how to define folk art. There was an interesting film on the subject. 

After a few hours, we headed to the Maeda mansion hoping to see the Japanese style house connected via a long corridor to the western style mansion. We were thrilled to find out it was open and explored the rooms, admiring the view of the surrounding garden. Sadly the corridor connecting the two houses was closed.

As I walked out of the Maeda house, I noticed a flyer for an exhibit in the Museum of Modern Japanese Literature across the way. It featured Hakushu Kitahara, one of the most important poets in modern Japanese literature who specialized in tanka poems and children’s songs. I entered the building and went up to the second floor, reading about his themes of love, nature, and the beauty of his hometown, Yanagawa. He seemed to have a very lyrical style and continued to write and publish throughout his life, producing numerous volumes of poetry. His legacy continues to be celebrated in Yanagawa, with an annual festival held in his honor. 

I spent an hour studying the extensive exhibit with the help of my friend Google translate.  There was a lot to read. I could have spent longer but didn’t want Shawn to have to wait indefinitely. I told him a bit about the exhibit as we walked back to the train station, destination Yoyogi Park. We took the train to the Shibuya station, and I remembered a nice route via Koen Dori that paralleled the main artery to the Meiji Jingu. It was less crowded and not bounded by the claustrophobic effect of giant skyscrapers smothering you on either side. Once in the park, Shawn wanted to go straight, while I was interested in exploring the entire park, starting in the southwest corner and heading clockwise toward the cherry trees, first flight statue, and then to the dog run, where I saw Shawn leaning over a fence, entranced by some dog’s antics.  While there was only one dog in a separate dog run for large dogs, there were about 15 in the dog run for small guys.  Most people in Tokyo have small dogs, what I call purse dogs or ankle biters, as there’s not enough room for bigger ones in such a crowded cityscape. Apparently some of the yappers were wearing tight diapers. Anal retentiveness? Possibly a reflection of the so-called owners, not the dogs. 

I liked Yoyogi Park: its border forest, flower gardens, riparian corridor/bird watching zone, cherry trees, rose garden, dog run, and large grassy fields. A few stalwart photographers peered through telescope-sized telephotos lenses, attempting to capture images of birds. I walked the long way around the park, then through a side trail winding through 60 foot tall trees toward Meiji Jingu (the Meiji Imperial Shrine). I’d fallen jn love with Meiji Jingu Gyoen (the Yoyogi Imperial Garden) on my first visit a few months prior and was hoping the iris for which the garden is famous would be in bloom. Unfortunately it was too early: the bulbs were just being planted and the process remided me of rice cultivation. Happily, the azaleas did not disappoint. They were in full bloom: oranges, pinks, purples, and magentas. I loved the winding paths through the forest, opening upon a tea house and pond with fishing stand (apparently the empress liked to fish). The garden was once part of the suburban residences of Katō Kiyomasa and later the Ii clan during the Edo period. During the Meiji period, the garden came under the supervision of the Imperial Household Agency and was frequently visited by Emperor Meiji and Empress Shōken.  

I wandered around, taking a plethora of photos as I walked through the brilliant azaleas. There were others on the trail photographing the spectacle, and I appreciated that each person politely waited their turn before doing their photo shoot. I liked walking on the less known trails in the  to the shrine where I said a prayer for peace, particularly in the context of Trump’s exploits (I would pray for a variation of this at every shrine and temple I encountered on my trip). From there I passed the offerings to the shrine of a huge pile of saki and wine barrels on either side of the path, then headed out of the grounds to the Ota Memorial Museum of Art which featured 120 breathtaking woodblock prints of Ohara Koson, mostly of birds. The exhibit was aptly titled “A paradise for birds”.  Koson (1877-1945) was a flower and bird artist active from the end of the Meiji period to the early Showa period. He painted birds, flowers, and animals using traditional ukiyo-e woodblock print techniques inherited from the Edo period. He portrays birds and other animals with a warm gaze. I marveled at the prints filling the gallery’s first and second floors. I especially loved his image of a fox with a leaf on his head. 

Shawn and I stayed until they closed at 5. We were both captivated by his work. Shawn wanted to eat, and I asked if he could wait 30 minutes.  He said no, and seemed to be angry. I asked if he’d let me know when he found a place, assuming that he was going to look nearby. Instead he hopped on a train and headed towards our Airbnb. I wanted to see Shinjuku Gyoen National Garden which was a 10 minute walk away, but it was closed. Instead I wandered in the area of the museum, checking out Harajuku Gaien Greenway and the surrounding neighborhood of small streets, artist studios, European style cafes, and quaint shops. 

I reached out to Shawn. He was about 30 minutes away by foot. I told him I wanted to meet him for dinner, and raced to Harajuku JR.  There was a crush of people trying to get on the train as it was commute hour. I managed to squeeze on just before the doors closed. I alighted at Yoyogi JR, a confusing tangle of underground passageways. I had no signal and couldn’t find the spot that Shawn wanted to meet. After 15 minutes I surfaced, feeling like a gopher must feel in a garden, as a traffic attendant sent me back down, saying I wasn’t allowed to cross the street.  I made another diligent attempt, but ended up in the same place. I begged a reluctant traffic officer to let me cross. Even though Shawn had a 20 minute start, I got to there first. But where was there? I searched for the place he’d mentioned in vain. Shawn finally materialized. He couldn’t see it either. Finally he saw the Kanji sign for the place. We headed up the several flights of stairs and sat down. It was a large and comfortable izakaya, and the food was great. Like most nights, I spent about $25 for dinner.  We liked going to an izakaya because rather than a set meal, we could order lots of little dishes. Like a tapas place.

April 18. Roxanne, an American friend of Shawn’s who has great connections in Japan (she lived and worked there as a translator for many years), arranged for us to walk around with her friend Noriko Sakho. Noriko has lived in this neighborhood around Nezu shrine for years and speaks English fluently (no surprise, she is also a translator). We were game, and agreed to meet Noriko at the train station at 10:30. As usual, before meeting we were eager to find a decent latte or cappuccino. We looked online and found a cozy spot called Espresso Factory. It was rather humble, but the owner was kind and he served creme brûlée. How could you turn that down? I was antsy to explore, so after finishing my dessert and latte, I decided to walk around for 30 minutes before the appointed meeting time. I walked a minute uphill, turned right onto Yabushita Street, and was suddenly in another world. The street was narrow and there were flowering plants. It felt like I had discovered a village. To my right was a chic modern building which I learned was the Mori Ōgai Memorial Museum. In 2012, the 150th anniversary of the birth of Mori Ogai, one of the greatest writers of the Meiji era, the museum opened on the site of his former residence, Kancho-ro. Ogai was a novelist, a playwright, a critic, a translator, and an army doctor, and his outstanding talent is evident from his achievements, but can also be seen from his interactions with cultural figures.  

I desperately wanted to explore the museum and longed to follow Yabushita Street to the Former Kusuo Yasuda Residence Garden and Fabre Insect Museum. I had gone to school with a Japanese American boy named Kenny Yasuda. I felt ashamed thinking about all the Japanese kids I’d known who might have come from well to do families in Japan. Anonymity must be difficult after such a background. How I longed to have more time to investigate this part of town. Perhaps I could have done so, but Noriko had arranged her day to meet us, and I would have felt guilty dropping the ball.  So I bookmarked my curiosity and let myself wander around the neighborhood, enjoying this small taste. 

We waited outside the train station, but no Noriko. We had no idea what she looked like. Nor she us. Shawn decided to go down into the station. Seeing a tall white guy would probably clue her in that he was the one she was looking for. And indeed, that’s what happened. They came out talking up a storm, and I followed behind, as there wasn’t much room on the sidewalk. I had hoped to go to a tasty bakery a block from the station, and they waited as I bought white bread with bits of dehydrated orange. Most Japanese bread is white and fluffy, though denser than wonder bread. I liked the taste of the orange bits and tore off a hunks of the bread as I walked. Noriko had lived in the neighborhood for a few years and really liked it. She wanted to show us some of the shrines and temples of the area, as well as Asakura Museum of Sculpture and Yanaka cemetery. 

We visited several of the 14 or so Buddhist temples within blocks of the train station. Two stood out: Gyokurinji with its statue of legendary Sumo wrestling Yokozuna champion Chiyonofuji and Myokoji with its beautiful grounds and stately conifer marking the crossroads. Noriko loved that tree and remarked on its permanence. Around the corner she pointed out Art Sanctuary Allan West (Allan West’s studio and gallery), which she loved for its ambience as well as art. On the way to Asakura Museum of Sculpture, she pointed out a few more temples and a preserved section of the Edo earthen city wall. The wall, built during the Edo period (1603-1868), was a remnant of the defensive structures that once surrounded Tokyo. We reached the sculpture museum and Noriko exhorted us to return and check it out. We wound through the neighborhood and Yanaka cemetery, a bucolic spot filled with beautiful trees, toward Nezu Shrine. At Nezu Noriko bid us farewell, as she had work to do. The Bunkyo Azalea Festival was in full-swing, with all 100 species of the 3,000 azaleas in full bloom. The shrine was full of people waiting to view the colorful bushes close up, while others strolled around the grounds or waited in a long queue to pray at the shrine. I walked through the closely stacked vermillion Torii gates, arriving at the Otome Inari Shrine. There I saw that one of the fox guardian statues had a baby fox! Below the Torii gates was a small pond full of lively carp eager for a snack. It was a lovely day, and the place was packed.

After enjoying the shrine grounds, I headed back to the sculpture museum. Asakura is considered the father of modern Japanese sculpture.  A few doors down was a fancy Italian bistro. Shawn wanted to eat a lamb lunch at Osteria il rosso del tramonto and invited me to join him. I popped in, but it was hot and uncomfortable, and I didn’t like the menu. So I headed to the museum which was Asakura’s three-story home and sculpture studio, an ingenious mix of Japanese and western style architecture. The western style studio was built of ferroconcrete with a high ceiling and skylights to let in the natural light, with the walls painted a light-brown color for a warmer effect. In addition to being his studio, it also served as the Asakura Choso Juku (Asakura School of Plastic Arts) from 1920 to 1944. I got a tour of the modern studio from a lovely Japanese woman who spoke English, which was quite rare in my experience. She talked about how Asakura offered free instruction to young people with little money, and his style had evolved over time. He focused on realism and was influenced by the naturalistic works of French sculptors like Bourdelle, Mailliol and most of all, Auguste Rodin. His work includes both human figures and animals, especially cats, which he had a deep love for and was inspired by his own pet cat. 

In the middle of the tour Shawn called asking if I had cash. Apparently they didn’t take cards at the restaurant. I felt bad for him and realized I had a 10,000 yen stashed for emergencies. I called back saying he could have it. Apparently he no longer needed it. After the tour, I wandered through the rest of the house.  I especially liked the Japanese wing of the house, and spent a lot of time carefully studying all the details. 

Shawn joined me in the Japanese wing. And of all strange coincidences, we ran into Noriko who was showing a tourist the museum. She laughed guiltily, saying she really had translation work to do. We sat admiring the beautifully crafted yet simple Japanese style rooms.  Then she and her guest departed, and Shawn and I continued to tour the house. The house was truly a work of art that Asakura had designed and overseen the construction. There were rooms with ground gems glued onto the walls: garnet, sea shells, sapphire. The third-floor Orchid Room, formerly a greenhouse for Asakura’s collection of orchids, is now a gallery displaying works focusing on one of his favorite subjects, cats. The rooftop features the oldest extant roof garden in Tokyo, where the students learned gardening to sharpen their senses and become more familiar with nature. I spent much of the day there, then wandered back through the temples, visiting ones that Noriko had skipped. I walked back through the cemetery, enjoying the peaceful calm that it exuded.