Cynicism and Sakura (or, Why Sakura Kind of Sucks)

I’ve been in Japan for just under nine months now. It’s a land of bizarre traditions and breathtaking landscape. Well, breathtaking save for the ridiculous amount of overhead power cables that emit their perpetual buzz all over the countryside. A small but ever-present little detail that the tourist board has managed to airbrush out of every picture that leaves the country. But landscape and tradition, though great inspiration for my forthcoming time-travelling murder-mystery novel, Under the Willow Umbrella (title tentative; previews available by request), are not why we’re here today. No, today is a subject much more fragrant; the world-famous Sakura, or Japanese Cherry Blossom.

Japan is beautiful in the spring. Everyone knows it. But, being submerged in rural Asia amidst the spring that has now passed, I must admit to being somewhat under whelmed. Having seen the pictures, and listened to my various students harking on about the wonders of the Sakura bloom for the last few months, I knew that nothing less than sheer amazement would leave me disappointed.

And so, watching the candy-floss like trees appear from nowhere amongst the local woodlands, and along the river banks, I was a little impressed. They are simply everywhere. Every skeleton of timber that had beforehand gone unnoticed across the countryside suddenly blossomed into bright pink glory. Like daffodils in the UK, Sakura trees are simply everywhere. Unlike daffodils, however, the Sakuras have lasted the course of just one week. A complete anticlimax to the plethora of cherry blossom-themed crap (kitkats, coffees, hats…) and multitude of “hanami” (sakura watching parties… I mean really???) that have led up to this stupidly brief stint of flora. With the slightest gust of wind, the petals have shed, and now, like confetti strewn at an over-indulgent wedding, lay uselessly upon the ground.

There are things I love about Japan… Its wildlife, its temples, karaoke bars. And then there are things I hate… The lack of cheese, the racism I endured last weekend… Unfortunately, the Nippon obsession with cherry blossoms falls into the latter category. Like Indiana Jones 4, Sakura season had such hope, such promise, that it was let down entirely by the final cut.

But then again, how much could I actually expect from a ruddy flower…?