My First Hanami: A Day-Trip to Washington D.C.

In Japanese culture, the cherry blossom has long held an important place. With the emergence of so-called "rice-culture" 2,000 years ago, the sakura (Japanese for "cherry") blossoms were thought to house the rice harvest gods. According to a pamphlet, "The word sakura is thought to be derived from sagami 'God of the rice fields,' and kura, meaning 'seat, storehouse or vessel.'" Following the practice of Chinese nobles--who held viewing parties of plum blossoms--Japanese nobles began holding cherry blossom viewings around the 9th century. For this practice of cherry blossom viewing the Japanese offered the word hanami.

This past December I thought it might be nice to take a hanami of my own. With some convincing of the family, we managed to arrange to go see one of the most famous collection of cherry blossoms in the United States, located in Washington D.C.

The cherry trees of Washington D.C. were gifted to the city from the mayor of Tokyo in 1912 to celebrate continued friendship and goodwill between the United States and Japan. In 1935 the National Cherry Blossom Festival was begun. Except for a period during and shortly after World War II, that festival continued unto this very day. I decided this particular collection of sakura would be the place for my first hanami.

So we left for Washington D.C. around 9am on a bright, cloudless morning, the 6th of April, 2013 (of all dates, my mother's 60th birthday). A light wind blew in from the west, and many birds sang in the trees around the house. We had hoped to leave earlier (since Washington is over three hours away by car), yet it was not to be and that was that. A curious byproduct of a hanami I've found is a somewhat greater acceptance of nature's pace; the blossoms will bloom in their own time, and we'll get to Washington when we get there.

Along the way I watched the scenes go by, many hills covered in trees laden heavy with buds. Several hawks also made an appearance, perched majestically among the higher branches. I marveled at their universally excellent posture, among other things.

Around 12:30 we arrived in Greenbelt, MD, the start of the green metro line which passes through the District of Columbia. Long lines of people waited at the ticket kiosks, cursing audibly as their attempts to purchase metro passes failed again and again. Two of the kiosks stood open, mechanics inspecting inside while an armed police officer stood by guarding metal cases full of coins. We were fortunate to have an operational kiosk, and a friendly attendant who explained how it worked. So unlike the experience of many that day with metro technology, ours proved simple and easy.

After a 25 minute metro ride and some lunch, our "pilgrimage" route involved a circumambulation of the D.C. tidal basin, a man-made reservoir on the north bank of the Potomac river. The basin is almost completely ringed by cherry trees, as well as the Jefferson Memorial, the FDR Memorial, the Martin Luther King Jr. Memorial, and the George Mason Memorial.

After completing the tidal basin loop we proceeded to visit the National World War II Memorial, an interesting structure designed in the shape of an ellipse, with two "gates" representing the Atlantic and Pacific theaters, and two sets of columns extending from either side of the gates with a bronze wreath and name of each state and territory that contributed to the war effort. In the middle is space for a pool and two fountains, though no water stood or flowed in either. From the World War II memorial we followed a long, narrow reflection pool to the Lincoln Memorial, where a marching band performed on the plaza and thousands of people crowded to see the giant marble statue of the 16th president inside. The statue of Lincoln cuts an impressive figure, and on either wall of the memorial's interior can be found the Gettysburg Address, and a passage from Lincoln's second inaugural address.

From there we passed through the Vietnam War Memorial, which consists of a statue of three soldiers, a women's monument, and a 246ft, 9in (75m) wall of polished gabbro stone on which the names of every know deceased American service member from the Vietnam War is etched. The memorial actually consists of two walls, one pointing toward the Washington Monument, and the other toward the Lincoln Memorial. Each begin as only a few inches tall, becoming taller until they meet in the middle at a 125° 12′ angle, with an apex of 10.1ft (3m). Two ladders are kept near the wall should someone wish to touch or copy a name which stands too high for them to reach. As we passed along, I observed several people stop and solemnly touch a name, while one couple stood fixed for a long time in audible prayer. It was an intense scene.

Upon leaving the wall, we made our way over to the White House to see the presidential residence. There's quite a lot of security along the road, and hidden among the gardens are cameras and doubtless other sensors that cannot be seen. I happen to look up into a nearby tree and saw what looked like a hornets' nest, but would not surprise me if it were some camera disguised as a hornets' nest. In any case, I enjoyed seeing the place and its lovely gardens.

At this point I left my family to make the long the trek down Pennsylvania Ave to the Capitol building. The rest of my family proceeded to Ford's Theatre, where President Lincoln was assassinated in 1865. I wanted to see this sight too, but I had a rendezvous to make, and alas it was at the Capitol. So off I went striding down the street, passing many interesting buildings (among them, the FBI Building, the National Archives, and the Canadian Embassy). Along the way a man about my age approached me and said, "Dude, you are a hippy I bet. You must really love the rain-forest." I'm not sure why he thought this way; perhaps it was my hat? In any case, the remainder of the walk proceeded without incident.

At the Capital Building I sought my friend Rachel, who goes to school in the area. I saw her last almost two years ago, so the opportunity seemed good for a meeting. Looking across a street, a girl wandered slowly who matched my memory of Rachel's appearance in a general way. So in forgetting the cherry blossom message that nothing-in-nature-is-rushed-yet-all-is-accomplished, I called out to this girl from across the road. She did not respond to "Rachel!" or "Hey! Over here!," so I called Rachel to see if the girl's boots and jeans matched those then worn by her. Alas they did not ("Nah, no jeans. I'm kinda wearing all black..."), and I felt a bit foolish. Later however, we found each other by the tall bronze statue of Ulysses S. Grant by the reflecting pool adjacent to the Capitol building, and taking a seat on a bench in the shadow of the Capitol, we talked at length of all that had happened the last two years.

The shadows grew long when we parted and I returned to my family, who brought photographs of the bed where Lincoln died. We took a few minutes to recover our strength (we'd either been walking or sitting uncomfortably all day), and then sought out a place to eat. A local sports tavern looked promising, but it proved so packed that sardines would likely call it roomy. So instead we returned to the metro station to begin our long journey home.

On the whole I found the journey to the capital both exhilarating and full of interest. I sought foremost to see the cherry blossoms, yet the city's history and culture could hardly be ignored; indeed, they seemed only to heighten the pilgrimage quality of the whole trip.

Yet the two also yielded tension. Part of the cherry blossom's symbolic importance in Japanese culture is as a metaphor of the ephemeral nature of beauty and life. Like blossoms, we too bud, bloom, and pass away into the winds of time. Meanwhile the great statues and buildings of Washington D.C. seem to speak of a thing more permanent--the memory of those who came before. Permanent and impermanent, both ideas seem important. The cherry blossom shows the frailty of life, while the monuments show the endurance of memory and foundational ideas. I think in life we must keep both thoughts--though contrary--in mind, so that we may remember our mortality while honoring the thoughts and deeds of our ancestors. This double-vision is difficult I think, but somehow essential, and keeping them balanced in our mind is perhaps a wholesome purpose for a hanami in Washington D.C.

In either case it proved a good day, and I'm glad I made the journey. The Cherry Blossom Festival in Washington, D.C. is a wonderful experience, and recommend it to any who have a taste for such things. You may find it speaks to you in new and interesting ways.