#10 Into the Many Flowered Fields

The first official school week had just finished. My schools include an “active school” (a vocational school for those looking to get into a trade) and an art specialty school (one of only two in my whole prefecture). Both schools have been welcoming, supportive, and the kids have already taken to my classes quite warmly. Still, even with all the help and plenty of down-time between classes, the anxieties of that first week had taken their toll by the time Friday finally hit. Whether in America or Japan, my philosophy is the same: a week’s worth of effort necessitates a little reward. And for this first momentous occasion, I decided to join some of the other foreigners for a little frolicking in the flowers.

One of the biggest attractions in the Ibaraki prefecture is a national park called Hitachi Seaside Park. It is a massive, sprawling “350 hectacres” of field upon field of flowers, food trucks, and even a little amusement park. One of the biggest attractions is the field of nemophilia flowers that climb the hillsides, melting with the sky and the nearby Pacific into a sea of stunning blue. It’s like if you took scenes from the The Ghost of Tsushima and brought them into the real-world. And as luck would have it, the first weekend after my first week of work was smack-dab in the middle of the “baby blue eye” season. We had to go.

The park itself felt equal parts state fair and national park, with its vast array of food trucks and little amusement rides coinciding surprisingly well with the bamboo, cedar, cypress, and pine groves. Tucked into every conceivable inch were a dizzying amount of daffodils, tons of tulips, and row upon row of roses. The park itself was quite crowded, so it wasn’t exactly a serene location, but there was a something sweet about all the mingling dissimilitude of life: teenagers out on first dates, elderly grandmas chatting it up with their good friends, young families carting their little ones from point A to point B, rebellious mid-lifers knocking back Kirin beer without care, and us foreigners standing out like so many dandelions among the throngs.

Besides these kaleidoscopic life juxtapositions, this park played upon references to anime throughout. There was an open blue door, like the one from Suzume, that even had a little stand so you could take a group picture together (which our party did). Walking through the forest, I was reminded of scenes from Your Name, My Neighbor Totoro, and Frieren: Beyond Journey’s End. The setting was particularly perfect for that last anime, as was demonstrated by the five or so different cosplayers who were doing photoshoots as Frieren in the park that day.

This leads me to another little thing I’d like to wax poetic on: flowers have always reminded me of death, but in a positive way. While most people view the topic of death as a morbid discomfort best never discussed, I have always viewed the end of this journey in the whole “death and rebirth” sense, the more biblical sense. Flowers have always fascinated me because they remind me so much of the frailty of life. When I smell a rose, I am transported back to funeral homes. The rich smell of earth reminds me of burials. And I cannot look at a floral wreath without thinking of my Mamaw Donnie who passed away back in 2016. She used to make these little themed wreaths for everyone in the family. They were real gems of her love.

But unlike mausoleums, crypts, and dusty old houses, with their trapped decay and desiccation, flowers symbolize the perpetual cycle, the unending wheel of energy. There is a reason why Frieren: Beyond Journey’s End focuses so much on flowers as a symbol in the story. The whole impetus of the show hinges on the aging and death of old friends leading toward the finding of new friends and the renewed wonder of adventure. Death is not something to be feared, as it inevitably leads to another journey.

For me, moving to Japan is something similar. Instead of being isekai’d to another world, I have been transported to another culture, another language, ten-thousand or so kilometers from everyone and everything I’ve ever known. Here, I am allowed to reinvent myself, to begin anew so to speak. I carry the knowledge of my previous life and use it to start anew in this one.

In a sense, this whole adventure is the “beyond” of one journey’s end.

All of this was cycling through my mind as I wandered between the cacophony of life around me. It was a simultaneously somber and joyful experience. The only thing I can think to compare it to is a true “celebration of life.” I drank heavily from drink vendors, rode my first Japanese roller coaster, tested fate on a Disk-o ride, and sweated profusely in the spring-warm Japanese sun, all the while nursing my beautiful, silent melancholy.

After the park, we checked out the Sakatsura Isozaki Shrine and wandered around the piers. I took a slight detour from the rest of the party to watch the bats catching insects around the lampposts lining the shrine’s entrance, soaking in some quiet after a day of noise. Even with a chance to change my self into whoever I want, I cannot help my introverted nature. I like being around people, but sometimes I need to wander alone to recharge the old social battery.

After the shrine, our group split into two, and since I was catching a ride with my coworker and neighbor, I followed along. We decided to explore our options around the Katsuta Station, which you use to get to Hitachi Seaside Park. We found ourselves at an izakaya and a group of eleven of us enjoyed the smell of cooking food, the taste of strong drinks, and the sound of many nationalities recounting their lives, their favorite animes, and their reasons for moving to such a different kind of place.  Still not content with the day’s activities, the group booked a karaoke room with all you can drink sodas to mix with the booze that was snuck in from the convenience store. Three hours of singing Creed, Creepy Nuts, Vaundy, and NYNSC later, we parted our ways.

By this point, I was extremely grumpy. I am an old man by nature, and prefer to be in bed by 8pm most nights. On this adventure, we didn’t get back to the apartment until around 2:30am. Way past my bedtime. It probably didn’t help that I had spent the equivalent of $150 in a single evening either.  When I finally got to crawl into my futon, I was sunburnt, exhausted, and slightly buzzed. I passed out immediately, promising myself that the next adventure would be a little less late and a little more relaxed.

Here in this new place, I didn’t want my old habits and hangups holding onto me.

And now, let’s end with some etymology.

Isekai. Noun. A recent addition to the Oxford English Dictionary which means a  “Japanese genre of science or fantasy fiction featuring a protagonist who is transported to or reincarnated in a different, strange, or unfamiliar world . . . Frequently as a modifier.” The origin of the genre actually stems from Japanese folktales, in particular the story of the fisherman Urashima Tarō who saves a turtle and is brought to an undersea kingdom, where he spends (unbeknownst to him) 300 years. The genre also has its roots in portal fantasy, like Alice’s Adventure in Wonderland, Peter Pan, and Chronicles of Narnia (to name just a few). The genre came into its own in Japan in the 70’s and 80’s with titles such as Warrior from Another World (1979) and Aura Battler Dunbine (1983).

In my opinion, the greatest isekai story of all time is still Miyazaki’s Spirited Away (2001), or 千と千尋の神隠し as it is called in Japanese! The red bridge that Chihiro crosses that leads to the bathhouse is the “portal” in this story. Fun fact: red bridges in Shinto shrines are only to be used by the sprits. So if you see those iconic, curved red bridges at a shrine when you come to visit over here…please don’t cross it. You might get turned into a pig for the rudeness.