Makuhari New City in Chiba is often associated with the Makuhari Messe or ZOZO Marine Stadium, but dismisses a charming Japanese garden just fronting Tokyo Bay.

Mihama-en Garden covers 1.6 hectares of the vast Makuhari Seaside Park, which lies next to the Tokyo Bay Makuhari Hall. The winding stone paths, sculpted pine trees, thick bushes, tranquil pond, and tiny brooks create a stark contrast against the soaring skyscrapers in the background. The traditional Japanese landscape is designed to reflect visions of mountains, rivers, oceans, and forests. At the lower pond, you’ll find a boat dock, sandbars, little islands, and bridges.

Like most Japanese gardens, a Sukiya-style teahouse sits by the larger pond and hosts tea ceremonies and haiku gatherings. You can even reserve a special tea ceremony experience, complete with matcha green tea and Japanese sweets. Beautiful cherry blossoms, irises, and other seasonal flowers accent the surroundings.

I visited during summer when the scenery was entirely masked in shades of green, but the autumn and winter moods are said to be equally enchanting. It’s not often that you can stroll through nature right by the waterfront, so I relished walking across the wooden bridges, wandering the manicured lawns, and resting in the simple azumaya gazebo while basking in the soft breeze from the bay.

The garden is about a ten-minute walk from JR Kaihin Makuhari Station (Keiyo, Musashino, and Uchibo Lines). It makes for a perfect relaxation stop after a busy day at the Makuhari Messe—or simply to savor the panoramic views of Tokyo Bay.

I never run out of reasons to escape to the refreshing town of Kamakura. Summer, fall, winter, spring—each season paints a different scenery and opportunity to smell the seawater, listen to the rhythmic ocean waves, immerse myself in gardens and galleries, and dive into sumptuous local delicacies.

Kamakura, no doubt, is synonymous to the haven of hydrangeas or ajisai come June to July. Meigetsu-in Temple in Kita Kamakura serves as the most visited destination to feast your eyes with this elegant flora, boasting over 2,500 blooms.

While I traveled to the temple a bit before the peak of the hydrangea blossoms, the charm of the surroundings was equally enthralling. The highlight in the Bright Moon Temple, dating back to 1160, is absolutely the circular window in the Main Hall, called the “Window of Enlightenment.” Famous for its perfect framing of the inner garden, placement at the edge of the tatami flooring, and flower arrangement on one side, this captivating window scene also symbolizes the Buddhist ideology of the cycle of rebirth.

In front of the Main Hall, one surely takes a lengthy pause to absorb the calm beauty of the karesansui “dry landscape” garden that represents the image of the mythical Mt. Shumisen from Buddhist cosmology. The delicately raked sands and carefully set rock sculptures stage a dramatic spectacle that also pacifies the soul.

Of course, the famous stoned staircase leading to the “mountain gate” cannot be missed. Stunning blue hydrangeas line up the path, giving it the name “Meigetsu-in Blue.” It is the most photographed spot in this temple.

Meigetsu-in Dori, the rough road headed towards Meigetsu-in from Kita Kamakura station, is a truly delightful pathway shrouded by verdant trees, a petit gallery, quaint boutiques, café, a few restaurants, and villa-type houses flanked along the quiet stream. The sight is a perfect picture of bliss and invigoration that makes you yearn to keep coming back.

Photos © Alma Reyes

A few years ago, I marveled at the plum blossoms in Atami Plum Garden and Ikegami Plum Garden. This year, I was delighted to witness the early blooms at Ushi Tenjin Kitano Shrine and Koishikawa Kōrakuen in Tokyo last February.

Ushi Tenjin Kitano Shrine, about a ten-minute walk from Korakuen or Kasuga stations, was a new discovery for me. I was particularly drawn to its famous koubai (red plum blossoms). Finding the shrine wasn’t easy—the route winds uphill from a street corner, unmarked by signs, until suddenly, a steep staircase appears, leading to the shrine gate. Yet, the moment I caught sight of the dainty pink plums lining the stairway, I knew the climb had been worth it.

Dating back to the 12th century, the shrine is dedicated to the renowned Heian-period poet Sugawara no Michizane. Legend tells of Shogun Minamoto no Yoritomo, who, on his way to battle, stopped to rest at this location and dreamt of Michizane seated on an ox (ushi). In the dream, the poet revealed two prophecies: first, that Minamoto would have a son who would become the second shogun, and second, that he would win the war. When both predictions came true, Minamoto built the shrine in gratitude.

Two oxen statues stand guard at the shrine’s entrance, echoing Michizane’s dream. Nearby, a stone ox called Nadeishi is believed to enshrine his spirit—those who stroke it are said to have their wishes granted. Though modest in size, the shrine is embraced by red, white, and pink plum trees, offering a breathtaking sight. One of its most charming features is a wooden panel shaped like an ox, adorned with rows of white omikuji (fortune slips). If you’re lucky, as I was, you might even hear a chorus of birds singing from the branches.

Every mid-February, Ushi Tenjin Kitano Shrine celebrates its Plum Blossom Festival.

Since Koishikawa Kōrakuen was nearby, I decided to visit and see its plums as well. I had previously explored the garden in autumn, but experiencing it in the transition between winter and spring was an entirely new sensation. A historical treasure from the Edo period, Koishikawa Kōrakuen was once a property of the Mito Tokugawa until 1869. The garden boasts 150 plum trees in 40 different varieties, nestled in a quiet corner at the rear. Shades of delicate pink, white, and even yellow painted the landscape.

Unlike cherry blossoms, which bloom in clusters, plums tend to appear as solitary bells, sometimes two or three on a branch, their spacing evoking a sense of poetic fragility. To truly appreciate them, one must step closer, observing their quiet elegance. In Japan, the ume is revered as a symbol of resilience and perseverance, for it dares to bloom amid winter’s chill. This auspicious flower is a beloved motif in New Year greetings, poetry, paintings, and its fruit, an essential ingredient in Japanese cuisine.

In these uncertain times—amid political turmoil, social unrest, and personal struggles—the ume serves as a quiet yet powerful reminder: to endure, to persevere, and to find beauty even in adversity.

On my last day, I ventured on a tiny escape from the city to the outskirts, to the antiquated town of Iwaseshima, about thirty minutes from Toyama City by the Light Rail tram. Toyama has a very efficient tram transportation system that also sparks nostalgia of the olden years.

While strolling through the alleys, I also spotted several temples and shrines—Moriryu-ji, Kyoshu-ji, and Yoganji temple, many over 500 years old.

Have a taste of your own Toyama adventure this year!