Most Americans visit Sankeien Garden within a month or two of arriving in Japan but it took me two years and three months to get there. Procrastination means serendipity this time for I am positive I would not have appreciated the experience half as much without Reiko as my guide.
You would think by now I would know better than to attach American meanings to Japanese concepts. Don't I spend half my waking hours explaining to parents of toddlers that the Anpanman Museum is a playground, toy store, bakery, and just about everything else imaginable other than a museum? Yet I toodled off to Yokohama expecting to spend a pleasant autumn afternoon strolling through a traditional garden and found myself instead in a Japanese version of Henry Ford's Greenfield Village. Sort of.
Substitute Sankei Hara for Henry Ford and the silk industry for automobiles and you have a general idea of the impetus behind this 'garden' which opened to the public in 1906. Preserving historic structures in a natural setting of waterfalls, babbling brooks, and peaceful ponds was Sankei's mission.
Only one of the buildings is open to the public but that alone is worth the trip. This Edo period home of a wealthy farmer was built in the
gasshozukuri style, meaning it has a steep roof and audience room. All the pictures I took inside the farmhouse are too blurry to post -- apparently I was shaking with glee at the prospect of clambering up a ladder-like staircase to check out the attic where silkworms conducted the family business -- so you'll just have to come see for yourself.
The nearest train station to Sankeien Garden is the same station (Negishi) Amy, Cathy, and I used when we found the house Craig lived in when he was a little boy but Reiko took me there on a different route, one that involved four trains rather than two plus shortcuts through two shopping arcades and a stroll down a narrow street teeming with restaurants, stores, and people.
We passed at least five bakeries on Reiko's route before I stopped counting. I could easily have spent 20 minutes in each of them but, alas, I had to rush home to dole out Halloween treats. You have not heard the last of those bakeries.
You would think by now I would know better than to attach American meanings to Japanese concepts. Don't I spend half my waking hours explaining to parents of toddlers that the Anpanman Museum is a playground, toy store, bakery, and just about everything else imaginable other than a museum? Yet I toodled off to Yokohama expecting to spend a pleasant autumn afternoon strolling through a traditional garden and found myself instead in a Japanese version of Henry Ford's Greenfield Village. Sort of.
Substitute Sankei Hara for Henry Ford and the silk industry for automobiles and you have a general idea of the impetus behind this 'garden' which opened to the public in 1906. Preserving historic structures in a natural setting of waterfalls, babbling brooks, and peaceful ponds was Sankei's mission.
Only one of the buildings is open to the public but that alone is worth the trip. This Edo period home of a wealthy farmer was built in the gasshozukuri style, meaning it has a steep roof and audience room. All the pictures I took inside the farmhouse are too blurry to post -- apparently I was shaking with glee at the prospect of clambering up a ladder-like staircase to check out the attic where silkworms conducted the family business -- so you'll just have to come see for yourself.
The nearest train station to Sankeien Garden is the same station (Negishi) Amy, Cathy, and I used when we found the house Craig lived in when he was a little boy but Reiko took me there on a different route, one that involved four trains rather than two plus shortcuts through two shopping arcades and a stroll down a narrow street teeming with restaurants, stores, and people.
We passed at least five bakeries on Reiko's route before I stopped counting. I could easily have spent 20 minutes in each of them but, alas, I had to rush home to dole out Halloween treats. You have not heard the last of those bakeries.
No comments:
Post a Comment