Sakura Matsuri, the festival of cherry blossoms, is one of the most important celebrations in Japan, signifying the welcome of spring and the transitory nature of life.
For the girls of CCNY it was an ideal day to channel their inner Geishas, say farewell to a gray winter and learn about our friends in the Land of The Rising Sun. The quick journey to The Brooklyn Botanical Gardens was almost as good as having a first class ticket to the Far East, minus the leg cramps.
Tulips, peonies and lilacs perfumed the air as the girls strolled through the Japanese garden. Sunning turtles and ornamental Koi became the main attraction, to which one member exclaimed, “Are those Catfish? I like fried Catfish”.
Soon the Geishas were shuffling off to origami folding. There were many colorful sites along the way--sushi pillows, kimono robed geishas and bonsai trees.
During the diversion, we learned that our colorful paper parasols were the envy of all! One of our coveted treasures doubled as a Samurai sword for one tap-happy member who was bent on the destruction of her pretty prop.
Back at the cherry esplanade, members relaxed in the sun as the petals fluttered and sampled beautiful Japanese sweet treats from Minamoto Kitchoan, to which we all agreed must be an acquired taste.
Although the girls learned that they were past the prime age (16) of becoming a true geisha apprentice, known as a Maiko (literal meaning dancing child) they still welcomed the lessons as if we were in Kyoto training for the tea houses.
One lesson that should be shared—Geishas always wear their obi in the back, never in the front for this signifies a prostitute. This is a lesson not to be Lost in Translation.
It was time to head to 9th street, known as little Tokyo. The maikos settled into the tranquil Japanese tea house, Cha-An. While members took turn visiting the hi-tech toilet, one brave member ordered the traditional Japanese tea, Matcha, which is green tea powder whisked into a frothy concoction that tastes like grass clippings blended with milk.
The final stop on the Orient Express was the tiny little noodle shop Ramen Setagaya. With Sumo sized appetites and chopsticks in hand, they apprehensively prodded their bowls. Once the strange looking pork slices were moved aside, we were slurping away and quite surprised at how delicious the “McDonald’s of the East” could be.
