Ohanami

The 17th time is a charm! After that many visits to Japan over 3.5 years I have finally arrived during the 2 week window where my beloved cherry blossoms bloom. A well known symbol frequently associated with Japan, I can’t believe I haven’t seen them yet. I’ve been a little bit of a freak concerning cherry blossoms. My first tattoo around my ankle my freshman year of college is a cherry blossom.

Growing up, visiting my grandparents and family from my dad’s side in Virginia was one of my favorite things to do. Especially for Christmas. Obviously Santa knew we were going down there, so he always planned a special trip to Michigan for an early Christmas before his regular annual xmas trip that he made for the rest of the world, where he visited us again in Virginia at my grandparents. The living room where all the family gathered, aunts and uncles, cousins and the furry white cat, Ralph, was magical. It was covered in Christmas decor, outside of the one massive panel painting on the wall which was a giant cherry blossom tree. There were nothing but wonderful memories in that room from my childhood, so there is no surprise that the image itself would come to mean so much to me.

And then there was my own childhood house. Not sure the history on as to why she did this, but my mom always had a love for random craft projects. I remember she created her own cherry blossom tree in the foyer. It was a real tree stump with branches. And she hot glued hundreds of fake cherry blossoms on the branches.

The cherry blossom has had a prominent role in my childhood. But I did not ever see the real thing in person. And growing up I didn’t ever expect I would eventually find myself working in Japan and traveling there often. It was in fact completely off my radar.

And here I was, finally, able to see them live and in person in the very place that was the most famous for it.

Nakameguro

We had ambitious plans. Unfortunately, the 70 degree weather the previous week turned into 50 for 2 days after we arrived so the buds were not full bloom yet. After a long day at work cooking and presenting to the leadership of our customer, we were ready for a cocktail. Michelle recommended this area in Tokyo that she had heard about previously. It was called Nakameguro, situated on the Meguro river. Roughly 800 sakura trees line the banks along the Meguro River and in the end of March and early April, they line the river with pink lanterns which illuminate the river and the blossoms along the river.

It was beautiful. You walk along the river edge and street vendors are selling everything pink possible. Michelle and I bought pink champagne topped with pink cotton candy. When that was done, we tried pink beer. And then pink mulled wine (that was a bust). Then there were pink baby octopi (hard pass). And quite an abnormal amount of taco stands (unusual for Japan… curious if that was an attempt at a pink reference as well that might’ve been really really lost in translation).

Steak Nagura

Meguro City, Aobadai, 1 Chome−16−12 サクレピエス B１F

We eventually wandered into this basement restaurant which featured sliced Kobe beef on the sign out front. And let me tell you, that Kobe beef was the best I ever had. It melted like, and tasted like, butter. We ordered 2 more glasses of pink champagne, which turned into a bottle, and then found our way back to the train to head back to Odaiba where we were staying. It was about 11pm which is usually the time of the “3rd wind” of energy to hit from the jet lag.

“I’m up for stopping in Shibuya for a couple on our way back." - another brilliant idea from Michelle

Shibuya. Let’s just say that I haven’t yet been successful at going there for only a few. Going to Shibuya at this time of night generally leads to one of those nights where we miss our train and have to wait until after the sun comes up to return back to our hotel. You never know what kind of adventure awaits.

Red Bar

Shibuya City, Shibuya, 4 Chome−5−9 青山ビル 1F

There was this one bar I had researched on our previous trip that we never quite made it to. We decided that this was our destination: Red Bar. It was off the beaten path of the bright lights of the Shibuya crossing. Almost so much that you couldn’t tell if you were going in an appropriate direction. But you knew… when you heard the bass. The door was conspicuous. Walking in we discovered a red lounge covered in cherry blossom trees. Signs and postcards on the bar revealed that they were hosting a “Cherry Blossom Festival”… the music was trance, but with a funky jazz touch. The DJ looked like a book worm, skinny Japanese guy dressed in a suit with a thin tie and glassed with thick frames. He didn’t smile. He had a cool vibe. Unique.

We enjoyed our drinks to the music. And then we ventured downstairs to check out the club scene. It was packed to the gills (as Michelle would put it) with foreign men and Japanese women. Immediately we recognized that the goals for the trips of these guys were much different than ours for adventure and camaraderie with whatever interesting crossed our paths. We people watched and bobbed to the beats ourselves for a while, laughing at the various interactions. Then a young Japanese guy approached us alone. Poor guy. He looked concerned. He said he lost his friend on the way over. That he disappeared and he believes he found a place to sleep on the street.

By the way, this is normal. When you travel to Japan you are quick to notice the organization, the cleanliness, the politeness, that safety it presents. On our last trip to Tokyo in November, we met some new friends at a karaoke bar and invited to give them a ride to their place in our Uber van. It was a French guy and his Japanese friend, and another dude from Israel. Suddenly the Japanese guy asked for the driver to stop and he ran out of the car down the street. The French guy, who was staying with him, naturally felt compelled to chase him down. The next morning I come to learn that the French guy never did find his friend. He educated me on the ways of the drunk Japanese local. That is it completely normal to make a bed from a park bench or anywhere really.

This is what happened to the friend of our new friend, Taka. Taka spoke ok English so we invited him to join us. We went back upstairs to the chill jazzy fresh atmosphere to find a red velvet bench and absorb the vibes. We offered to buy Taka a drink to discover he is only 19. The legal drinking age is 20. We didn’t believe him and asked for his ID, to which he first showed us his fake. The birthday said “7”…. And on his real ID, the birthdate said “11”. That’s when I discovered that birthdates on IDs in Japan are based only on the number of years the Emperor was in power. On top of that, there was no picture. Clearly not a system that was fool proof. Taka explained that people didn’t care anyway… they never check and they don’t care.

He recommended a drink called cocalero… a liquor made from coca leaves of Bolivia and Peru. Coca leaves are said to have medicinal traits… and are used to suppress altitude sickness and to reduce feeling of hunger, thirst and pain. They are said to also provide stamina. Truth is after about 4 of these with ginger ale, I effectively drank myself sober only to discover at that point it was only 25 proof. We sat picking Taka’s brain about Japanese culture, and then realized we once again missed the last train from Shibuya. We would now have to wait until 5am until they opened back up again. Oi vay.

At that point 2 English guys walked up from downstairs and had an uproar of excitement when they saw Taka. Apparently, they had met earlier in the night at another bar across town (which in the 2nd largest city in the world, let me tell you how unlikely this is. And this is not the first time this type of thing happens to Michelle and I on our travels). At that earlier bar, Taka’s friend was with him then, physically but sounded like not mentally. They joked mimicking Taka’s friend passed out on the floor and Taka clearly not being too concerned as he continued to party. By this time I had dubbed Taka as “Taki Taki” and continued to sing the chorus at random. The English guys picked up on it too. They sat down with us and we began chatting and laughing at stories.

Matteo, to my left, was now a ski instructor in Hokkaido. He was born in Argentina. He had zero accent that I could tell. Actually sounded American. Michelle compared him to the lead in the movie Airplane. I didn’t know. I hadn’t seen it. But from the pictures it was such a strange similarence.

Ollie, the other, was to my right. A 24 year old English kid in Tokyo before heading to China to start his charitable adventure. He was going to ride his bike across the Silk Road from Beijing to Istanbul. A journey that would take 5 months if he were to bike 80km a day. Both were sarcastic and hilarious. Matteo was a jokester. Ollie was a ball of happiness and positive energy.

They literally thought it was 12:30a when they sat down and I had to inform them that it was in fact 430a in the morning. And at about 5a, when the trains were back in operation and we prepared the leave, the doors opened and a clown car of people came pouring into the lounge. We were all so shocked by the scene we decided on another drink for people watching circumstances. The music picked up and the place became more and more packed, downstairs and upstairs. Where did all these people come from? And why now? Past 5am? We decided to just immerse ourselves into the scenario and wandered downstairs to the other dance floor to groove.

Matteo whipped out an impressive sprinkler.

While Ollie… “Just stacking the boxes, stacking the boxes.”

Michelle “what?!”

Ollie: “You know… stocking the grocery store shelves”

Hahahaha.

We all laughed and danced the (morning) away until the hunger was too strong. It was 8am and we were craving some ramen. Matteo led us to his favorite machine order management spot closer to the center of Shibuya. You paid at the machine and then waited for lights to illuminate together on the wall which indicated open spots next to each other at the ramen bar, and then you found your way to these seats, which were all separated by panel walls with a wooden curtain in front of you. You bend the panel walls to open them up to your bar seats at least. Otherwise what it really felt like it was a ramen eating cubical bar seat. They opened the bar curtain in front of you only to deliver your order, and then it closed and you were alone again to eat by yourself.

While waiting we watched an intoxicated larger Japanese guy fall off his bar stool and it took his friend and about 2 employees to help him up to get out. Clearly we weren’t the only drunkies with a craving for Ramen.

After finished, we curiously walked back towards the Red Bar to hear it at least a block away still pumping bass. We went in for about another hour, bobbing the the beat, and then we said our adieus. The sun was bright. It was a beautiful day. But we needed sleep.

We traded social media contact info and parted ways. I later learn that Ollie was supporting a charity called: The Charlie Waller Memorial Trust… a nonprofit providing mental health training to schools, universities, and businesses. Having lost my best friend to suicide only 2 years prior this cause is near and dear to my heart. Funny how God puts these serendipitous situations in your path… and especially how you only notice them when you are truly paying attention. He is having a conversation with you. And this is one way he uses his voice to guide you and reaffirm you are on the right path. I donated to the cause and followed his inspirational journey along the silk road, and rallied some friends from home to do the same.

For the next 2 days after that adventure, Michelle and I were still so confused as to why the bar got more and more busy on into the morning. We wondered if it was just that bar. But then a day later I get a text from my friend, Andrew, a Japan expert on his way from Michigan to Nagoya.

“Make sure you hit up an all nighter Ohanami if you haven’t already!”

Quick Japanese lesson:

Hana = flower

Ohanami or Hanami = flower viewing

So an Ohanami party is literally a party just to celebrate viewing the flowers.

Ahhhhh that’s right! The signs…. Cherry Blossom Festival. It was an all nighter Ohanami! Done and done. Scratch that baby unintentionally off the bucket list. Another adventure; new friends and memories made. And thus my love for cherry blossoms continues to grow.