sumidagawa

Today is the first day Tokyo air has coaxed goosebumps out of my skin. So far, in the 1 month, 3 weeks, and 3 days since I’ve been here, being outside has meant being okay with a constant layer of sweat.

I moved into my new apartment recently, and the route home from work means I can walk alongside the Sumidagawa, aka the Sumida River. Tokyo’s abundance of nature has been a pleasant surprise. Greenery is not hard to find. Blooming from sidewalks and doorways, Tokyo is a living thing.

And like all living things, it has veins running through it. Tokyo is absolutely teeming with rivers and canals. The Sumidagawa in particular is a thicker vein than most—a wide swath of water winding gently along the curve of the city, in view of both skyscrapers and thousand-year-old temples alike.

It didn’t take me long to love this river. I literally got full body chills in 95+ degree weather when I saw it for the first time. It makes sense, though, because when I lived in Boston, my grounding place was always the Charles River. It’s where I sat if I wanted to be alone—where I cried over soccer injuries, where I read on a crisp fall day, where I listened to music and watched the moon. It was my go-to hangout spot for a play date with myself.

It’s night right now as I write this, and I’m reflecting on how this new river makes me feel. It is wide and steady and the kind of pretty that makes your heart expand within your chest. Boats with pink lanterns and sharp noses like barracudas coast along the current. A few scattered billboards light up the water. For a small, lucky stretch, you can see every dimple and ripple of soft neon water.

It’s quiet, too. I’m standing by a pair of red-bottomed boats strapped to a small dock, and all I hear is the slosh as they buoy up and down. Cars glide on the highway several stories up behind me. The beat of runners feet come and go. If I walk under the light of the bridge, I can see the shadows of fish swimming. It smells faintly of the ocean.

In this 1 month, 3 weeks, and 3 days, I’ve learned that I actually kind of like fast-paced city life more than I expected to. I love the beckoning possibility, the strange way fate and happy accidents collide and multiply. And I’ve noticed that I’m even more inclined to lean into that spirit because I know I always have this river to come back to—a place to take a break, a friend I can sit with for a little while.