Inokashira Koen

I live near a park called Inokashira Koen.
Before I came to Japan I google-earthed Inokashira Koen. It revealed photographs of a lake, cherry blossom and maple trees at various stages of shedding their fiery leaves. I liked what I saw but didn’t really think about it. Great, I thought, I get to live by a park. Quite an unusual thing for someone living in Tokyo. On moving in day, when I arrived at Inokashira station, the first thing I saw was the park. The first thing I heard was the screams of cicadas (it really is the most excellent background music) which were coming straight out of the park. I couldn’t find my halls for ages; I dragged my suitcase through the 31 degree blazing heat, purely because I was (am) too stubborn to have accepted the offer of help from a student guide. I don’t need a guide, I thought, I’ve been to Japan before. All the while, Inokashira park stood silently in the background, a green blur fenced off in the periphery. Later, once I had moved into my halls and ‘settled’ (learnt how to recycle/ paid attention to and immediately broken the showering rules/ located which cupboard I should keep my shoes in/ how much space I could use in the fridge), I discovered that I would be walking through Inokashira park every day to get to uni.
Route: down the road (10 minutes), turn into the park and walk over the bridge to the train station (10 minutes), catch a train which goes two stops down. The station platform has speakers which play a cheerful tune every time a train arrives (don’t kill yourself today salaryman!), giving me something to focus on as I try and walk in a way that says ‘I am blending in.’

My first walk through Inokashira park was bracing. Morning. Smart clothes, combed hair. Hollow breakfast. half -no wait- a full cup of instant coffee, three bites of a roll, no fish, no rice, no salad.. maybe a bit of salad.. rush, rush, rush. Don’t want to be late, oh god my new housemates are waiting I’ve got to go. Quick, smoke a cigarette. Oh look, there’s that park. Slow down, stop. Photo. Photo. Photo. Oh no, keep walking! There’s the station, off we go! The park becomes a blurry green thing buzzing in the background once again, twinkling on the periphery.

Even though I’ve only been in Japan three weeks (!!) it feels as if I’ve been here forever, and certain aspects have been on triple fast forward: spaces have changed their meaning quickly. Usually I feel like it takes a while for a new space to develop an identity/meaning. When the space has a budding personality you will inevitably smash it and rebuild it as something completely different: people interact with spaces as if they were people.

At first, the park was just green fuzz. But now it’s coming more into focus, the more time I spend there. On Sunday night we went to the park on a whim, after a couple of drinks. It was so much fun, it was exhilarating! How can a park be so lively after dark? I mean, we weren’t doing much- chatting, playing on the swings, dancing to the local busker’s abominable croon. But everything just felt so charged and vibrant. I suppose that’s one of the main things that I’ve missed about Japan. But there is something special about this park. A couple of nights later, I went back for a thoroughly different but equally wonderful night. This time we had the guitar. As the light faded the sky looked redder and redder against the silhouette of trees which were gently creeping in the wind. I like it when its getting late and you feel somewhat protected by your surroundings. It’s reassuring. I also like feeling protected by the strangers around me while they’re going about their daily activities. Although this is a fairly dumb feeling to have as you aren’t supposed to feel comforted by strangers. Stranger danger, remember? I just like the buzz/collision/symbiosis of many different heads dipping all over the place. Sometimes it’s nice to feel like a very minor and unimportant part of something way bigger. I suppose that’s why I like Inokashira Park. It's wild and comforting, it's filled with interesting people.