My family moved to Fuchu City 15 years ago, but it wasn't until recently that I had the chance to step inside the Tokyo Racecourse. That day, I saw a group of infants and toddlers being carried by their daycare nurses, joyfully waiting in line to enter the racecourse grounds. They were not charged an entrance fee as attendants ushered them in with their carriages, picnic mats, and strollers. Wait—why are little children allowed inside the Keibajo, a racecourse? My curiosity got the best of me, and I found myself standing in line too, smiling my way in without a ticket. And this, dear readers, is the Tokyo Racecourse, located right here in Fuchu City.

What a hidden treasure I discovered, right in my own neighborhood! The Tokyo Racecourse is operated by the Japan Central Horse Racing Association and is located in Fuchu, Tokyo. It's also known as Fuchu Racecourse, while locals and racing enthusiasts simply call it "Fuchu." The facility is managed by the Japan Racing Association, and on its premises, you'll find the JRA Horseracing Museum and Equestrian Center, along with amusement park-style attractions like horse-drawn carriage rides, a water play area, a mini Shinkansen train, and a balloon dome where special events are held. And yes, there are cafés and restaurants inside the main building! Built in 1933 for horse racing, it's considered the "racecourse of racecourses" in Japan. The venue can accommodate up to 223,000 people, with 13,750 seats for spectators.

The racecourse is busiest on weekends, when visitors from across the Kanto area fill the viewing areas. Many arrive via JRA’s dedicated train line and station, which leads directly to the main entrance. Others drive, as the racecourse has ample parking on several sides. On weekdays, Fuchu residents can enjoy free entry to the grounds, and on race days, they get free admission starting at 4:00 PM.

What impresses me most about the Tokyo Racecourse is how beautifully and meticulously maintained it is. There’s a stunning rose garden, a serene Japanese-style garden with lovely landscaping, and a Sakura-lined path that’s absolutely breathtaking in spring. Staff, attendants, and maintenance workers are scattered throughout the premises, all wearing bright, cheerful uniforms and radiating positive energy. It’s always a joy to come here for morning walks with my grandchildren, watch the horses’ daily routines, admire the jockeys during their practice sessions, and occasionally witness an impromptu horse exhibition. The upbeat atmosphere from both the staff and the visitors makes every visit a refreshing experience.

If the staff is so courteous and cheerful to visitors, imagine the respect, care, and dignity they extend to the horses in their stables. Have you ever seen a horse’s mane brushed until it shines like summer sunshine? Or horses bathed and made spotless in temperature-controlled warm showers? Or fed fresh fruits and veggies, so satisfying that you can almost hear the crunch as they enjoy their lunch? Or perhaps pulling carriages decorated with red roses? Or playing in their own mud puddles, soaking their tired hooves? Lucky, lucky horses!

The Tokyo Racecourse is much more than just a place for betting—it’s a park, a recreation area, and a family-friendly space. Interestingly, the fruits of their labor and the productivity generated by this sport are not enjoyed by just a select few. The racecourse makes significant contributions to the city in terms of taxes, donations, public facilities, infrastructure, and beautiful nature gardens. These benefits extend far beyond the racecourse itself, reaching a wide range of places and people.

One peaceful afternoon, I visited the course and saw a horse in its pen, waiting for visitors to come by and greet it. I walked up to her, and without thinking, I whispered, “Hi, girl! You look so lovely. Thank you, and I hope we can be friends!”

Coffee, Flowers, or Me?

We all love flowers, period. But this guy took the love of flowers to another level.

Nicolai Bergmann is a Tokyo-based Danish flower artist and designer who has been widely celebrated here in Japan for starting a trend of boxed flower arrangements less than a decade ago.

A few years back, in search of interesting cafes around Tokyo, I tagged along with a friend of mine who took me to Nomu Café known for its Danish sweets, pastries, and extraordinary ambiance. The friend never mentioned that this café also happens to be a flower shop.

Imagine my delight (my shrieking delight) upon entering the ultra-modern designed shop, with walls made mostly of glass, and where the inside of the edifice from the main entrance towards every nook and corner was overflowing with flower arrangements and creations that we were riveted by as we made our way to the café at the back of the shop. Of course, coffee just slipped out of our minds as we took our sweet, sweet time to check out the flowers and pretend we were in a Disney-Flower-Land of sorts.

The arrangements were so entrancing. We saw fresh flowers arranged in small boxes in a monochrome theme or mixed colors or gradation. The centerpiece was a massive design made from dried leaves that otherwise would have been dumped in garbage bins or compost diggings in a park somewhere. Branches and twigs had their own moment in the spotlight, creating patterns that evoked 'ohs' and 'ahs' from the customers who filled this delightful, extraordinary flower shop cum café.

We couldn't stop being astonished at the breathtaking beauty in front of and around us. Coffee, not even the mouthwatering cakes and pastries in front of us, could tear us away from the hypnotic beauty we had witnessed in this happy, delightful, and beauty-full place.

Nicolai Bergmann's floral designs have been exhibited all over Japan, essentially in major and important shrines, and as digital art installations. His designs combine traditional Japanese art with his western aesthetic techniques and influences. He also teaches at their floristry school in Omotesando where his flower shop under the name Nicolai Bergmann and his flower-themed Nomu Café is located.

If just being in the flower shop already brings joy and delight to a visitor, how much more joy would be in receiving one of these creations, and moreover, how happy one could be to afford one of these designs for the love of his or her life? I leave it to your imagination to guess how much a little box for your loved one costs in this lovely shop.

Disneyland is named by many, especially kids, as the happiest place in the world. Nicolai Bergmann Flower Shop could be the 'Disney-Flower-Land' for flower lovers like you and me!

Oh my! I forgot all about the coffee!

Those Christians who did not deny their faith were killed, their churches destroyed, and several of them were exiled outside of Japan to Manila, Siam, and Macao. Many escaped and lived in caves and wilderness, becoming known as the Hidden Christians, who continued practicing their faith and passed on their prayers and rituals to several generations of descendants until they were discovered after Japan finally opened its doors to the world, more than 300 years later.

The Christian Samurai martyrs of Yonezawa were a unique group of exiles, mostly Samurai and merchants from Kyoto, Osaka, and some from Kanazawa, who were transported by soldiers to northern Japan during the early years of persecution. They were left in the wilderness to farm for food and endure harsh winter conditions in the north. Despite these challenges, they worked hard and strived to build an ideal Christian community, marking the beginning of the era of Tohoku Christians. Their lives were filled with little comfort and peace, as persecution and eventual execution swiftly arrived for these Yonezawa Samurais, their families, servants, and supporters.

Unlike in the movie Silence, however, the Samurais of Yonezawa accepted their fate with dignity, boldly professing their faith and speaking of love and eternal life. They prepared for death by dressing in fine kimonos, wearing rosaries around their necks, and arranging a procession in Hokusanbara, the place of their execution. Jesuit priest Fr. Porro reported their martyrdom in Yonezawa, describing it as a procession of a well-trained 'Company of Christ', with the condemned wearing their best kimonos and rosaries, and carrying a banner with the image of Mary. Not one of them denied their faith. Four young boys spared from execution mourned not achieving martyrdom alongside their fellow faithful. A teenage girl ran to her father, desiring to be executed with him, while an elderly couple rushed towards the executioner, embracing martyrdom with faces full of peace and happiness. Yet, many martyrdoms went unrecorded and unnoticed, lost through the centuries of persecution.

In 1927, Fr. Schwientek, SVD, a Polish priest, read a book by Leon Pages from 1869–1870 detailing the beheading and persecution of the Samurais and their families. Inspired, he traveled to Yonezawa and, with the help of catechist Mr. Yoshishige Sato, discovered the exact location of the martyrdom in Hokusanbara, Yonezawa City, on April 28, 1928. This marked the formal revival of the church in Yonezawa after 300 years. In 2002, the church commemorated its 75th anniversary with a reenactment of the martyrdom. The parish priest led hundreds of pilgrims in a procession, carrying rosaries, the icon of Mary, and a copy of Fr. Porro's original letter to Rome, dated July 2, 1629, reporting the martyrdom. It was a solemn remembrance of the procession that Amakasu and Nishibori and their families undertook with dignity, dressed in their best kimonos, rosaries around their necks, and carrying the icon of Mary, 374 years ago.

Sometimes, we do not realize that the ground we tread upon may be holy.

To say that her home was overflowing with her handmade creations seemed to be an understatement. Ooh la la! She is a creative mind, an artisan, a potter, a kimono expert, an antique collector, a tailor, a certified patisserie who studied in France, a herb enthusiast, a tile expert, a designer, a wife, a mother, a grandma, and what not! (And more importantly, we both share an ardent love and devotion for Totoro.)

Kintsugi (or sometimes also referred to as ‘kintsukuroi’) is an artistic restoration technique. As a philosophy, it celebrates the brokenness and history of use of the vessel without any attempt to hide or disguise the damage. “… It is a kind of physical expression of the spirit of "mushin," literally translated as “no mind,” but it carries connotations of fully existing within the moment, of non-attachment, and of equanimity amidst changing conditions. The vicissitudes of existence over time, to which all humans are susceptible, could not be clearer than in the breaks, the knocks, and the shattering to which ceramic ware is subject. This poignancy or aesthetic of existence has been known in Japan as “mono no aware," a compassionate sensitivity, or perhaps identification with, things outside oneself.” (Christy Bartlett, Flickwerk, The Aesthetics of Mended Japanese Ceramics.)

Kintsugi is a precious process of mending and beautifying broken pieces and making them whole again. It teaches us to embrace our flaws, life’s imperfections, and brokenness. It makes us feel the silence in our hearts and be present in the present moment.

During the actual activity, I was actually filled with impatience at the start of the mending process as I struggled to put the pieces back together, which was not unlike that of a puzzle. The urushi lacquer dries up quickly, and I had to take only a little at a time so as not to waste precious lacquer as I glue them piece by piece and make sure they dry completely, making it a painstakingly long and tedious process. The other ladies were wondering how so many broken pieces could finally come together. It seemed like a hopeless struggle somewhere during the mending procedure. After putting everything together, I discovered that there was a missing piece. Oh my, I was so sure I picked up all the broken pieces; evidently, I was wrong. I showed it to sensei and winced as I anticipated disaster, only to hear her say, “That’s a beautiful window on your bowl! Create a beautiful window with an appealing, delightful crack! That made me smile! Oh yeah!

Looking at the finished product leaves one in breathless awe. How could it be that my shattered bowl is now so beautiful? It looked horrible, in terrible brokenness, when I started mending it. But now… I’m almost in disbelief. What was broken is now whole. What more? It is beautiful!

Finally and suddenly, we were all in joyful cheers as laughter burst out from inside of us when we saw the broken pieces becoming whole—still the same piece, but at the same time, something more. Cheers to Kintsugi! Cheers to life! Cheers to our weaknesses and imperfections! Cheers to the God who loves us warts and all!!!

Because cherry blossoms tend to bloom only for about two weeks and wither even more quickly, the Japanese people consider sakura as a symbol of life that’s evanescent and fleeting. During the era of imperial expansion from the 19th century up to the end of WWII, the meaning assigned to cherry blossoms veered towards a more militarized significance to symbolize honorable death for the soldiers, figuratively, being so much like those beautiful blossoms fluttering quickly out of sight. It was said that around this period, many sakura trees were planted as they were believed to have consoled the souls of those soldiers who died in the war.  Eventually, new meanings were assigned as later on they have become symbols of peace.

I have often wondered as I gaze in awe at those ‘namiki’ or waves and waves of sakura trees that stand side by side as far as the eye can see --- Yes, I wonder, who planted them, when and why?

There is a legendary Sakura tree called the Jindai Zakura found in Hokuto City in Yamanashi standing inside the premises of Jissoji Temple estimated to be around 2,000 years old. It is large and imposing at 10.3 meters tall and considered the oldest tree in Japan and perhaps in the whole world. This tree is believed to have been planted there by Yamato Takeru also known as Prince Otsu who served as Japan’s 12th emperor in the first century on one of his travels along the area. Isn’t that mind-boggling! The Jissoji Temple is also particularly unique in that it houses the ‘Uchu- Zakura’ tree or the “Space Sakura” which comes from more than a hundred seeds taken from the Jindai Zakura and taken to the outer space by NASA to spend eight months orbiting the earth in a space station, thus, the name ‘uchu’ meaning, outer space. Sadly, only two of those seeds were able to survive and bloom.

The 8th Shogun Tokugawa Yoshimune (reigned from 1716 to 1745) planted many cherry blossoms along Sumida River.  He loved to indulge in what used to be an exclusive party for royalty and the elite under the Sakura trees (ohanami) and was one of those who made his constituents happy by also allowing them to enjoy Sakura viewing in the spring. The book ‘The Tale of Genji’ recorded the earliest ‘ohanami’ party of the royalty as far back as the year 831. Many shoguns particularly in the Nara area continued to plant Sakura trees and as the capital was moved to Tokyo, more and more trees were planted alongside rivers for the purpose of relieving and also preventing flooding.

Yes, the warriors ---  these strong and visionary leaders took it upon themselves to imagine a world full of gradation of pink and white blossoms, even mountainfulls of them. They basked in the beauty of these blossoms come spring time and wanted to share them with their people and the future generations, their children’s children and so on until this very day. The Sakura blooming season is just around the corner. Does not your heart skip a beat with excitement?

Thanks to these visionaries, creative and wise men and women leaders of Japan who generously shared sakura to the world, who painstakingly planted trees along rivers, on long stretches of roads, entrances to temples, public places, mountains, even across miles and oceans. For sharing the stunning, ethereal beauty of the blossoms and the eternal, enduring, relentless strength of their roots and trunks that are even as old as Jesus if He were still alive today in His human form.

The Sakura tree is a paradox in itself. Considered ephemeral and fleeting and yet, these trees have lasted long and have become enduring symbols of hope, beauty and a sense of rootedness and pride for the Japanese people throughout their history up to the present. And all these because of their good old ‘bushis’ (samurais/warriors) and ‘shoguns’ (military dictators) who made it their life’s work to plant sakura trees and share them to their people and to the world.

There is a Greek proverb which says, “A society grows great when old men plant trees in whose shade they shall never sit.” This is so true of Sakura trees and the men who sow the seeds for us and those who come after us; and it is not just the shade that we sit in, but all the beautiful and awe-inspiring blooms that give joy, inspiration and freshness to the soul. Now, let us enjoy Hanami starting next week and thank the God of creation as well as Japan’s awesome ‘tree planters’. 

There he goes again, weaving his magic wand of animation onto the real world of humans.  Hayao Miyazaki won another major award on January 7th just at the onset of this new year, for his latest animation movie, “The Boy and the Heron”.  Watching the news on TV where Hayao Miyazaki accepted his first Golden Globe Award, I can’t help but cheer enthusiastically for him and at the same time to feel a certain kind of nostalgia as my children basically grew up knowing all of his movies by heart.  It was Totoro who babysat them through childhood and remained their all-time favorite animated movie, which love for the character has been passed on to their children as well.

Living in Mitaka City, Tokyo, added to the charm and spellbinding effects of the Miyazaki animated films on my children and to every Tokyoite especially at the time when the Ghibli Museum was constructed right in the middle of Inokashira Park and finally when it opened its door on October 1, 2001.  The choice of the Inokashira Park was intentional, in fact, a deeply considered decision as the founder himself wanted a place surrounded by nature where his characters could come to life in a setting that can be found in all of his animated movies.  If there is a recurrent theme in his movies, it would be his love for nature and hatred for war.  Winning an Oscar Award for Spirited Away in 2003, Miyazaki did not attend the ceremony to receive his award in opposition to the ongoing Iraq war, saying, ‘I didn’t want to visit a country that was bombing Iraq’.

Taking advantage of our proximity to the museum at that time, we would be queuing every now and then to give Totoro a hug, lounge lazily inside the nekobasu (Catbus), watch their exclusive short film of the season, buy some coloring books of their favorite characters or bring friends along for a quick ‘perk-me-up’ when things got so stressful.  The museum is full of little surprises in every little corner and spot.  Sitting at a bench, for example, I jumped with delight when I saw some ‘Makkuro Kurosuke’ (soot sprite characters) in a little hole just outside the museum.  One trivia I relish to tell was the time when the famous American director Steven Spielberg visited the museum himself and the whole place was reserved exclusively for him and his whole entourage.  All my Japanese friends were swooning over him at that time.

The difficulty of securing an entrance ticket, though priced reasonably, proved to give an added sense of curiosity to visiting the museum.  Moreover, the small space of the museum compared to its vast popularity allowed a visitor only a limited time inside, a maximum of three hours to be exact.  Inside, everything was designed by Hayao Miyazaki himself and most of his designs were taken from the backdrop of many of his movies.  It is frustrating however to not be able to take photos inside the museum as it is strictly prohibited.  The staff would promptly call your attention when you attempt to do so.  But what makes the tour of the museum enjoyable is that one is immersed into the world of animation and film making.  Hayao Miyazaki shares his world and his art to the visitor who definitely wonders what is behind those movies where characters are not bound by gravity and the law of nature, where different and parallel worlds exist, where romance is taken to a level of the ordinary while other movies romanticize reality.  This is the magic of Hayao Miyazaki. 

When the hubby took me to watch ‘The Boy and The Heron’ last year, I was so captivated by the sceneries, the landscapes… that same feeling evoked in every Miyazaki movie.  Like a homecoming or a feeling of some kind of a nostalgia.  On a deeper level, the storyline is so imaginative combining adventure and fantasy and profound themes that explore complex emotions amidst stunning backdrops that only Ghibli animated movies can bring forth through art and technology and yet which profoundly reach down deeply into the human soul.  Welcome to Ghibli and let free that inner child in us.  

So what is Kintsugi? It is the Japanese art of repairing broken ceramics or pottery with lacquer mixed or dusted with powdered gold, silver, or platinum. The binding medium is the Japanese urushi lacquer, made from the sap of the urushi tree and dating back to 2400 B.C. It is a highly durable material and is perfectly adhesive, even when newly applied. Wooden bowls applied with Japanese urushi lacquer last for centuries without changing their color, even with constant use. Adding powdered metal to this liquid effectively dyes the lacquer and further increases durability and beauty.