In Tokyo's parks and gardens

Think of Japan and you think of trees, the ubiquitous flowering cherry and plum trees of springtime, the brilliant leaves of Japanese maples in autumn, bonsai trees in ceramic pots, cedars towering in forests, bamboo groves and pines cultivated to curve over ponds. They revere their sacred trees. They protect them too, many very young, very small or very large, old trees being neatly bandaged in hessian wraps. I looked this up. It is to protect the trunks and bark against frost bite, sun scald and parasitic insects. In the winters they wrap their most precious or vulnerable trees in straw as well.

In this post I'll try to describe some of the gardens I visited this August in Tokyo. People had warned us about visiting Tokyo this month; because it is so excessively hot out of doors, I thought that the shade of trees would be welcome. It was.

On our first day, Saturday, August 3rd, still jet-lagged and culture-shocked, we headed for the park around the Imperial Palace; this is a wide open space beyond the moat and stone walls and people were finishing a run there, gasping for cold water. The option of queuing in full sun to tour the Palace didn't appeal. Chinese tourists don't mind; they carry parasols. It was already 39°C in the shade but at least we were in the shade when we crossed the road into leafy Hibiya-koen, the location and appearance of which I remembered from my last time in Tokyo --- that had been in February. Pine trees bent over Shinji pond near a corner where ancient burial relics are kept. Pine trees leaned over the water in which were ducks and fish. In one of the park's restaurants a smart wedding was taking place. At the far end four girls pranced and sang (out of tune but with plenty of energy) on a temporary stage, entertaining the crowd.

Cosmos field, Hamarikyu Gardens

More walking through streets between skyscrapers, under motorways, half-heartedly searching for something to replace the clothes in my missing suitcase, in vain, brought us that afternoon to the Hamarikyu gardens, where I'd also been before and had thought lovely. This park, for which we paid a small entrance fee at a discounted rate, is an oasis of quietness in the busy neighbourhood of Shinbashi / Shimbashi and the Shiodome, but we wished it had offered more opportunities to sit down. We did eventually find a bench in some shade, with a fine view of the city and of nearby courting couples, at the summit of a small mound humorously called Fuji San (Mt. Fuji --- I saw the Fuji San in other Tokyo gardens too). Near the entrance is a 300-year-old pine tree, its spreading limbs propped up on multiple crutches. A field cosmos sulphureus was a mass of bright orange, and near the central pond is a newly renovated, thatched tea-house, beautifully put together without nails, inside which the heat was even more intense. Outside we could feel a breeze at least.

Steps up "Fuji San", Hamarikyu Gardens

The following day we headed for another park, the museum district at Ueno. There are shrines here too. This was another place I'd discovered in 2012 that Chris didn't yet know. As I'd anticipated, he liked it as much as I did and even suggested we go back there on our last morning in Tokyo before we flew back to Canada, which we did. On that first weekend we saw a cellist busking by the central walkway, a Westerner, and further along, in contrast, a young man practising his kendo swordsmanship, very Japanese. Near the fountains, we also watched an group of five or six sporty Japanese students practising an energetic and difficult routine with two skipping ropes. Down the hill by the Tokyo zoo is an extensive lotus pond, the Shinobazu Pond; the buds had opened and I was thrilled to see the huge pink flowers among those huge, umbrella like leaves. Another part of the pond is for pedal boats shaped like pink swans, very reminiscent of the scene at Beihai Park in Beijing, where they have the same sort of boats.

At the Fukutoku Shrine, close to our hotel, is a miniature forest garden, complete with a hill, stone steps up it, stepping stones around it, and a freshwater spring. At night, spotlights shine through the undergrowth to illuminate the leaves above, a magical sight. Soothing music is broadcast in the background to go with the sounds made by the water and the leaves in this miniature, urban forest. Although space is scarce in the city, Tokyo citizens often cultivate container gardens on the street and doorsteps round their houses. At the brand new workplace (not yet officially opened) where Chris worked this month, a small botanical garden has been planted all round the front of the building, many of the plants labelled with their Latin names. I also came across a roof garden overlooking the central station, at the Kitte building and a flower shop on Chuo Dori in the business district the other side of the central station, where passers-by are encouraged sit and rest amongst the tropical plants.

Mid-week, on the recommendation of a friend I went to see the much more extensive Meiji-Jingu Shrine. This shrine, dedicated to Emperor Meiji and his wife, has a large inner garden, with a fish pond full of water lilies and a shelter with a thatched roof. Apparently, 100,000 trees were brought here to be planted from all over Japan, a godsend on such a hot day. "Kiyomasa's Well" is a spring from which a little stream flowed towards the pond, deemed to be a sacred place.

On another day, I visited the Shinjuku Gyoen National Garden, walking there from Shinjukugyoenmae Station on the Marunouchi Subway Line. Gyoen means Imperial Park (established in 1879 --- before that, it had been a botanical garden since the 18th century). The park had been destroyed by bombs in the 2nd World War and afterwards reconstructed. Long row of "sycamore" trees with benches under them. French / English formal garden at one end, traditional Japanese garden at the other. Woodland around the perimeter. Himalayan cedars, sequoias, a plane tree, etc. were indicated on the map of the gardens. Overlooking one of the ponds was a Taiwan Pavilion built on the occasion of the wedding of the Showa Emperor, and all the ponds featured those Japanese stone lanterns that I find so attractive. Inside the lavish tropical greenhouse, the air felt cooler than the air outside! I also sat in the cafeteria to cool down with a "cake set": a slice of green-tea-coloured, layered cake served on a tray with a glass of fruit juice. for which there was a complicated ordering system involving a ticket machine.

On our second weekend we crossed the Sumida River to see the Kiyosumi Gardens, created in the 19th century. During the Great Earthquake of 1923 and the bombing of Tokyo in 1945 "...this garden saved many lives as an area for refuge." We had been there before, as well. This serene spot has stone lanterns again, and turtles swimming near the stepping stones. There are Buddhist relics in a secluded corner including a stone relief of the Three Wise Monkeys, and a haiku by Matsuo Bashō is carved onto the face of a standing stone near the place where irises grow.

An ancient pond.
A frog jumps in.
The splash of water.

Parks and gardens of Tokyo

I took the Hanzomon (Z) Line to Otemachi in order to see the Imperial Palace Gardens, but to my disappointment they are closed on Mondays. Therefore I stayed this side of the Sakurada Moat and palace walls to walk through the Outer Garden on the pebbled footpaths, admiring the pale, soft, dried up lawns under the ornamental pines. By crossing busy Uchibori Dori I could access another green space, the Hibiya Park, with fountains, ponds and an open-air stage at the centre. One corner of this park used to be a burial ground long ago, and with reference to this terracotta figures stood in the flower bed. There was a small hillock where more pines grew, their trunks decorated with a sash, or obi, made of straw, and labelled with their botanical names in Latin. Ornamental cabbages and flowering pansies were growing in neat rows near the tennis courts where women were playing sets with one another; perhaps their husbands were those gentlemen I saw striding purposefully towards their lunch venues in their dark suits.

I followed some of these gentlemen into a Trattoria on the ground floor of the Press Centre and was served a salad, a teacup of cream of pumpkin soup, a pile of spaghetti drenched in pesto sauce and a strong cup of Italian coffee. This meal cost the same as my hotel breakfast but was a better deal, the “continental” breakfast having been two slices of toast with jam with coffee and juice, preceded by a green salad in a vinegary dressing with shredded carrot and lots of onions. I was interested to watch my fellow diners at lunch time, the women as smart as the men, except that their face masks rather spoiled the effect as they came in. They took them off, of course, while eating.

Afterwards a long search for a Post Office led me under the railway lines (along more busy streets) to the Shinabashi “City Centre” around the Shiodome, an ultra modern shopping mall-cum-office block complex, tall trees in the glass covered basement, skyscrapers scores of floors high and people walking & riding the escalators like little model figures in an architect's maquette. There I found a lady in a print shop who sketched a map for me to show me where the nearest post office was so that I could finally buy some stamps for my postcards. (Not that I've found many postcards yet, either.)

By following my nose and the walkway signs that were translated into English I made my way under flyovers and across wide roads at ground level into the haven of the Hama Rikyu Garden, once owned by a Shogun in the Edo period of Japanese history and later by the Imperial Family who donated this piece of land to the City of Tokyo after it had been “dilapidated” (i.e. destroyed) first by a Great Earthquake and secondly, I'm afraid, by 2^nd World War bombers. It was restored by the City. It was a lovely place, as I'd guessed when I spotted it from the river cruise yesterday, full of bending pines, salt water ponds (fed by a tidal stream through a sluice gate) and walkways including a sea wall and a path up a little mound called Little Mount Fuji. Ducks and a heron fished in the ponds and on an islet in one there was a Tea House I may return to when I'm not so full of coffee. A bridal couple, the girl in a red kimono, was having photos taken and big birds of prey, eagles maybe, were fighting a noisy battle with the ravens.

I caught the river boat from the landing stage where we'd pulled in before and sailed back to Asakusa from where I know how to get back to the hotel.

The dogs of Tokyo have their own designated playgrounds, by the way. There's one by the riverside, a long, thin, fenced off area with an artificial lawn where they can chase balls to their hearts content and where their owners have to clean up after them, closely supervised by a uniformed officer. I didn't see any dogs in the other parks.