Friends, families, and colleagues come together to have picnics, eat, drink, laugh, play games, and attend festivals.
The Sakura came during the final week of our spring break, and the country was already buzzing with energy. On a bright Sunday morning, I boarded a train from Kitakyushu for Ohori Park in Fukuoka City. I had searched briefly for Sakura viewing places and found that this park was on top of the ruins of a castle. The train chugged through the countryside, then ducked under the vast streets of Fukuoka and its many canals. The sun was blinding as I exited the subway and was immediately enveloped in a river of people. To the right was a wide river, and further beyond, a hill. On top were green and pink trees, and an ancient castle watchtower with white walls and a slanted tile roof. I followed the trail of people toward distant sounds of cheering and music. Under distant trees, I saw bright-colored mounds. Tents? What for? I thought. Either way, figures sat and stood next to them, making jovial gestures and gazing down the other side. I reached a stone bridge, heavy from the weight of hundred of people, a wall of Sakura trees were lining each side, making the air sparkle. Through the crowd, I saw families taking photos, travelers from other countries, and a young man dressed in purple and black samurai armor; his helmet had a white flower design.
Across the waters, we were corralled between giant stone walls and under massive wooden beams. A doorway 30 feet tall was swung open. The crowd advanced up a slope through the walls, where the dirt path branched east and west. I continued to follow the noise. The Sakura were at their most beautiful and dense.
