The Biggest Japanese Garden in Europe

We found out over spring break that Chris didn’t get his first choice for our next set of orders, leaving us with two choices: Bahrain or Japan.

If we went to Bahrain, Chris pointed out, we could really say we’d lived all over the world. “If you ever wanted to talk me into the Middle East, the end of another long winter in Europe is a great time,” I said. Isaac was delighted by the prospect of renting a big house with a pool. Eloise, on the other hand, was charmed by visions of joining in the stories we’ve told about the Old Days in Japan. “You guys have all been there, but I’ve never been there!” she said.

We needed more information, so Chris talked to the guys currently in the jobs. In the end, this Bahrain job couldn’t guarantee the kids and I would get to come (this didn’t make a lot of sense to me, because loads of families live there right now…?) and the guy in the job was extending his tour outside of the time we’d be able to take it. The guy in the job in Japan raved about the office and the workload. So it seemed obvious to us: Back to Japan.

“ARE YOU SO EXCITED?” say Americans. “OH! How do you feel about that…?” says everyone else, eyebrows sky high.

Finally, Chris put his finger on the unsettled feeling: “I’m content, but I’m not EXCITED,” he said. It’s a long way from family (but not as far as Bahrain). It means two more international moves in the next 2.5 years. It’s our third consecutive overseas tour, and our fourth overseas tour within 16 years. We’d hoped to stay in Europe since…you know… covid. Going to Japan means trying to live on base, which will be so fun for the kids but comes with a lack of space and privacy to do what you want without being monitored every moment by bored people with cameras and social media.

But anyway, moving is very disruptive, and the process of negotiating orders is stressful, and Chris’ job has been extremely stressful since February, so I felt like we needed to mark and celebrate this moving news with a trip to the biggest Japanese garden in Europe, which is conveniently just an hour from Brussels. It seemed like a good way to consolidate our mixed and varied feelings into good feelings, provide reassurances, and take away some fears (“Will we have to eat fish every day for breakfast in Japan?” Eloise had asked nervously).

First of all, the weather was perfect. Second, the big fluffy pink sakura were in full bloom. Third, on April weekends, the garden hosts Japanese food and tea vendors. The first part of the garden is a transition area between the West and the East. The center of the garden holds a pond with a pathway across the iris garden (not in bloom yet) over to a waterfall. The water tumbles down the hillside with the energy of the young, winds and flows briskly through the garden in midlife, then mellows out into old age near the bridge and tea house. The third and final section of the garden is beyond the pond: a sakura garden at its absolute peak bloom, and a peace bell.

We ordered a yakitori bento box, some mochi, a sakura smoothie, some sakura green tea, and extra yakitori skewers. Isaac scored us a table. The kids gobbled up all the food and offered to go back and order extra yakitori on their own, and I felt happier and happier about returning to Japan. The kids stopped worrying about not liking Japanese food. They joined a pack of kids gonging the peace bell, sending soothing intonations ringing out across the garden. The four of us contentedly enjoyed the sunshine in the heart of the Japanese garden in the center of Belgium. Another transition, another international move. Another adventure—together.

“You have all already been to Japan,” Eloise mused again. “Now I’ll have been there, too!”