At a time when so much seems to be going wrong, it is reassuring to feel the arrival of spring. Not least in Japan, where the cherry blossoms are now in full bloom. Millions of Japanese have already taken part in the celebrations, and many more look forward to experiencing the annual enchantment known as hanami – “flower viewing.”
“The event is not merely a natural experience, but a way of contemplating existence,” says the cultural historian Haruo Shirane. “It reflects who we Japanese are – spontaneous, playful, and philosophical.”
The celebration begins, naturally, in the far south, where spring arrives first. On the islands of Okinawa, the cherry trees may bloom as early as January. The climate there is subtropical and mild, and the blossoms are often a deeper shade of pink than on the mainland. From Okinawa, the bloom spreads northward, and by late March it reaches cities such as Kyoto, Osaka, and Tokyo. The most famous place in Tokyo for cherry blossom viewing is undoubtedly Ueno Park, where thousands of trees form a pale pink canopy over the paths.
As the colorful climax approaches, competition for picnic spots becomes fierce. Many companies send employees out early in the morning to check the trees, the sun, and the shade. The best spots are quickly claimed with large blue tarps marked with messages: “Mitsubishi 6 p.m.,” “Nikon Sales Department 7 p.m.,” or “Subaru 6–10 p.m., please do not remove this sign!”
But the festivities do not end there. After Tokyo, the blossoms continue their journey northward, all the way to the island of Hokkaido. In the winter sports city of Sapporo, the celebration does not begin until late April or early May. The Japanese follow the weather forecasts closely, and for the most devoted, the weather becomes an obsession.
A hanami is, above all, a social gathering filled with smiles and laughter, and the food is almost as important as the blossoms themselves. It is not a single dish, but a universe of small delicacies carefully arranged in square boxes – grilled fish or chicken, eggs, boiled, fried, and pickled vegetables, and, of course, rice. Colorful rice dumplings on skewers are also part of the feast, as is pink rice cake filled with bean paste, wrapped in a salted cherry leaf. Everything is washed down with beer – or sake, though usually in more moderate quantities.
The tradition began more than a thousand years ago among the aristocracy. At that time, it was the plum blossom that set the mood, likely inspired by Chinese customs. Gradually, the cherry blossom took its place. At the imperial court, the nobility gathered beneath flowering trees to compose poetry, drink sake, and reflect on the beauty of nature. “If I have a wish, it is to die beneath a cherry tree in spring,” wrote the poet Saigyō in the 12th century.
Thus, hanami was first an elite tradition – a refined form of experiencing nature.
Much later, during the Edo period (1603–1868), the custom spread to the general population. The shoguns planted cherry trees in parks and along rivers, making the blossoms accessible to all. In this way, hanami became a popular festival where families and friends gathered beneath the trees to celebrate spring.
In modern Japan, hanami is both a festive occasion and a welcome respite from everyday life. People follow the weather forecasts closely to track the sakura zensen – the “cherry blossom front” – as it moves northward. Cheerful crowds gather on thousands of picnic mats to enjoy the pleasures of the table. As night falls, many take part in what the Japanese call yozakura, the viewing of blossoms illuminated by lights and lanterns.
Cherry blossoms have a brief season. From the first buds to full bloom, only a few days may pass. The peak itself lasts just two to four days. Then the petals begin to fall like snow, and suddenly it is all over. For the Japanese, the fleeting visit of the blossoms is a reminder of the transience of life. That is why it is so important to seize the moment and savor it fully.
Moreover, no one knows how long the bloom will last. The wind may take everything tonight, or rain may come tomorrow. In that case, the blossoms can fall and cling to the ground within hours. Then there is nothing to do but cancel the celebration or move it indoors. The most devoted, however, may take time off and follow the “front” northward by car, bus, or train. In doing so, they traverse the entire archipelago, nearly 3,000 kilometers from south to north, greeting the spring.
Along the way, they encounter another Japan – depopulated communities and a country out of balance. Young people move to the cities in search of work and education, and few return. Abandoned houses, known as akiya, have become a familiar feature of the new century. Millions of homes stand empty, some given away almost for free. Schools, shops, and post offices disappear.
Today, around 90 percent of the population lives in urban areas, making Japan one of the most urbanized countries in the world. The Tokyo metropolitan region alone has 35 to 40 million inhabitants. Those who remain in the countryside are, for the most part, elderly.
In the cities, the pace is high and working hours are long. Most people live in cramped apartments; in Tokyo, the average living space is only about sixty square meters. This does not encourage large families, and the population is now declining year by year. It evokes something of the same melancholy that accompanies the fading of the cherry blossoms. Yet even if the bloom is brief, the Japanese know it will return next year.
Will the country itself be able to return?
When the Second World War ended in 1945, Japan had around 72 million inhabitants. In the decades that followed, both the population and the economy grew rapidly, and in 2010 the country reached a peak of 128 million. Since then, the population has declined by more than six million, and the outlook for the coming years is far from promising. By 2050, Japan – the Land of the Rising Sun – may have only around 100 million people.
So what lies ahead? Is the sun rising or setting? This question is often raised in televised debates. Most answers suggest that Japan is neither in sunrise nor sunset, but in a long twilight. Opinion polls in recent years point in the same direction, with pessimism particularly widespread among the young.
Nor is the economy performing as it once did. The OECD and the International Monetary Fund estimate growth of only about one percent this year – significantly lower than in most other Asian countries. China, the region’s giant, is expected to grow by four to five percent. The Japanese are trying to compensate for the loss of labor with extensive use of robots. But robots do not pay taxes. Nor do they bring joy, and no one has ever heard them laugh or raise a toast beneath the cherry trees in spring.
In the midst of the blossom season, the Japanese are also confronted with troubling news from the Middle East. Japan produces little oil and must import 90 percent or more, primarily from Saudi Arabia, the United Arab Emirates, and Kuwait. Most of it passes through the Strait of Hormuz, which is now partially closed. The perception of the United States as an unstable ally only adds to the sense of unease.
This means that Japan is living dangerously. In recent days, thousands have taken to the streets in cities across the country to protest the war – something rarely seen in Japan. In government offices in Tokyo, developments in the Middle East are being monitored hour by hour. Fortunately, the authorities have built up oil reserves that can last for several months. Even so, the situation is a warning that the country must reduce its dependence on oil and invest more heavily in renewable energy – and nuclear power, despite its sensitivity.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the cherry blossom season in the Tokyo region is now over for this year,” says the female meteorologist on television. “But we are following it northward, and next week those of you in Koriyama, Fukushima, and Sendai can look forward to the miracle of spring.”
When the last blossom has fallen, April is over. What awaits Japan – and the rest of the world – remains uncertain.
