Cherry Blossoms

It’s night one of our Japanese honeymoon and I stand in the hall holding a hair dryer half an inch from kate's bomber. If you have to, blowdrying a wool jacket actually works pretty well. She is sitting rigid in the blue bathtub, teeth-chattering. I need to learn to admit I’m wrong sometimes. 

3 hours earlier we had landed at Narita Airport and after several bleary transfers collected our precious rail passes from Shibuya Station. From there, we took the local to the neighborhood of Naka Meguro where we would finally reach our airbnb after 21 hours of travel. Via a covert google search on the flight over, I had discovered that the half mile walk from station to airbnb would be entirely picturesque with white cherry blossoms dusting a dark canal below. In my mind I could see the petals drifting; I could feel Kate press into me, arm-in-arm. As we arrived, I practically dragged Kate out of the station, barely noticing that a light drizzle had began to fall. It was chilled to begin with and Kate suggested that we hop in a taxi, but I begged her to walk a block. “It’s just like Midnight in Paris!”, I said. 

About exactly a block later, the sprinkle had become a deluge and Midnight in Paris quickly became the Hunger Games. The trees were beautiful and Kate did hug me briefly, but the hug was more for warmth than love and I got rain in my eye trying to appreciate the blossoms. With no cab in sight, we put our heads down and walked the length of the canal, rain splattering our shoulders and suitcases. When we finally reached our rented flat, we stripped off the wet and I realized that somewhere in the scurry I had lost my precious rail pass. Kate was sweet and kind to me about it, even though her teeth were chattering. 

Shinjuku Gyoen in Tokyo

canal running through Naka Meguro

ps. the next morning, the sun broke through and we got our share of awe. The cherry blossoms are truly inspired.