It wasn’t till we were off the train and heading along the banks of the stream in the photos that I started to realise why cherry blossom time was such a big deal. You can’t tell it from the photos, since I carefully positioned myself to photograph flowers rather than crowds, but when we arrived just before five o’clock, a considerable crowd was already on hand and while we went for a wander the crowd grew.
It seemed, at least to the casual hairy foreign observer, that what we were seeing was as much about social interaction, an excuse to get together with friends and relatives to eat, drink and enjoy the scenery, as it was about the aesthetics of the cherry blossoms.
In any case, as the crowd built up we decided to leave them to it, resume the journey to Osaka and arrive at the rendezvous with plenty of time to spare.
The selected meeting point was outside the door of the Kinokuniya Bookstore at the entrance to Osaka’s Umeda Station, and that’s where the complications briefly set in. For a start there isn’t one entrance to what’s comfortably the largest book store I’ve ever seen. There are at least two, strategically located on either side of the concourse that formed the conduit for literally thousands of people heading into downtown Osaka from the suburbs in search of their Friday night entertainment and further thousands of people heading in the opposite direction.
We had enough time on our hands to sneak inside the book shop, where I found an Inspector Rebus novel (Resurrection Men, just in case you’re interested) brand new for a mere eight-hundred and something yen (around eight Oz dollars) pointing out, yet again that Australian readers are paying through the nose for their literary entertainment. I weakened and bought it.
Back outside we were faced with a difficult choice.
If we placed ourselves outside either of the entrances to the bookshop there was no way that we could keep an eye on the other one, and if we tried to strategically place ourselves in the middle we’d more than likely be swept away by the rushing tide of humanity and wouldn’t have been able to monitor either side effectively anyway.
Around us we could see people talking animatedly into mobile phones as they attempted to establish the whereabouts of the people they were supposed to be meeting. In the end we decided to alternate between the two sides and put our faith in digital technology.
In the end, we didn’t need to. Since I had a slight height advantage over ‘Er Indoors, and knowing that we were looking for two people arriving from opposite directions, one of them slightly above average Japanese height, one slightly below, I managed to locate them before they’d finished ringing The Mother’s mobile, which had been entrusted to ‘Er Indoors for the duration of our stay.
From there it was a case of finding the selected eatery, which wasn’t quite where our guide thought it was, necessitating the use of digital technology as an aid to navigation.
Once we’d arrived at Kitchen Stadium (and, no, I’m not kidding, that’s what it’s called and I gather the Iron Chef series is far enough back in Japanese TV history to have removed threats of legal action for copyright infringement) it was time for the ritual exchange of gifts before we settled down to matters involving food and drink.