Refreshing Landscape of the Heart

1

「そういうみずみずしい原風景を心の中に残している人は、体内の暖炉に火を保っているのと同じで、それほど寒々しくは老け込まないものだ。」

Haruki Murakami wrote this in one of his essays. Taken out of context, it probably doesn’t make a lot of sense. As a beginner in Japanese, I do know some pieces, but I cannot sew them together. So, I asked my Japanese speaking partner to help translate this phrase. It goes along the lines of this:

“The person who has a refreshing nostalgic landscape in their hearts, like keeping a fire in an internal fireplace, will never grow old melancholically.”

I believe I have missed out on a lot of the nuances, but I still like this translation of the phrase. The onomatopoeia “みずみずしい” evokes an image of water (みず). Because water is clear and cool, it carries on the connotation of being refreshing. “原風景” is a harder word to explain. Dictionaries vary in its definition but it literally translates to “original landscape.” The nuances include “landscape of the heart,” “nostalgic landscape,” “landscape of your childhood.” I can’t explain it well, but I think the closest translation to the one my language partner explained was “nostalgic landscape.”

            When I thought of this phrase in my own narrative, a certain memory started to come back to me: the alps, the newly cut grass, the smell of the pool’s chorine, the spring sunlight, rows of oak trees lining up against the cobblestone road, the polka dot swimsuit. It was a nostalgic landscape that stuck with me, but I still could not imagine it fully. My perceived idea of this space and reality were still blurred.

2

In the mountains of Patagonia, hints of this landscape started to come back. The white rocks, the turquoise river, the tree branches arching over the dirt path. I tried to picture it, but it seemed so far away.

            Hiking in the mountains is a repetitive task. First, you must find a sequence of footholds in your head as you approach the rock. Next, you execute what you have planned. Of course, you factor in the wetness of the rocks and other weather-related issues, but overall you have a lot of time to yourself. Because of this, I was able to let my stream of consciousness run wild. But as I was about to drift off into my thoughts, my friend caught up to me. 

“Hey, do you believe in star-crossed lovers?” He asked me.

“Star-crossed lovers?”

“Yea”

“As in a couple destined by fate?”

“Something like that”

“No, I don’t think so. I also think that it’s an unhealthy way to look at relationships.”

“Yea, I have to agree with that one. Then what do you believe in?”

“I don’t think there is the one out there, but certainly there is someone who you will come to love a lot. Perhaps another form of being the one? I just hope there is no single person that I can truly feel like I love her though. Otherwise, that’s an alternate way of believing that there is only one person in the world for you.”

“I believe in that too. The funny story in my family though is that my grandparents always fight against each other. They used to fight over every single topic possible. They used to fight over the TV, so we got them separate TVs in their bedrooms. They would watch it at the same time on different channels and compete with each other on who could put their program on a higher volume. This made me think that love is not a rosy journey through life and it is something that is harder to define. It extends beyond attraction.”

“Hahaha, that’s actually pretty funny.”

“Do you have someone like that? Someone you really think is the one?”

“I don’t want to think there is only one. But in my life, there has only been one person who I think I would categorize my feelings for her as ‘love.’ I met her while I was studying in Switzerland. Back then she could not speak English very well, but she tried to speak to me anyways. I liked her effort a lot and slowly, I think we started to kind of like each other. On my birthday, she gave me a teacup that (I think) she personally made.”

“I have to say, handmade gifts are on a different level.”

“Yup. Anyways, we parted ways when I came to study in the States. But when I met her again last year and during the past winter break, I completely understood why my middle school self loved her. I can’t say she is gorgeous, but she has a charm that I am attracted to and I can’t explain why. I think that charm extends to my current feelings as well.”

“I understand.”

“But you see, I’m afraid that because I keep thinking back to this person, I cannot move on with the next person.” I say this, but what’s so bad about not being able to move on from her.

By the time we reached the village, the sun has already set. The sky turned pink and the mountains turned blue. Everything slowly converges together in a shade of purple. My memory started to return and come into focus. She stood there in my landscape.

3

While riding the bus to the airport, I was going through my Ghibli playlist. I like to play this playlist whenever I pass through any natural scenery. The music just fits in so well. As the bus curved around the barren hills, Day of the River started playing. The main theme of Spirited Away has three variation (One Summer’s Day, Day of the River, The Name of Life), but I like this one the most. The strings serenaded in like a gentle river wave approaching its bank; in the middle of it all, a single melody on the piano emerged like drops of rain falling onto the water, causing ripples across the surface. At that moment, the image of the sun, the freshness of the river, the greenness of the hills came to me. The combinations of words, pictures, sound and music that I have experienced in the last few days ushered in a memory of her. I now clearly remembered it.

It was there near the school swim pool in my Swiss boarding school where I first met her. The grass was newly cut so I was able to sit there on the hill with my roommate. We looked over to the swimming pool where a handful of students were relaxing. It was a steamy spring day, but there was enough wind to keep us cool. Two rows of oak trees flanked a cobblestone road on both sides that lead the main dining hall to the swimming pool. In the air, I could smell a mixture of chlorine and the snow on the alps. I wasn’t really looking at anything in particular except people in the pool. But when she emerged from the pool, my attention narrowed down from this spring day’s landscape. I wanted to talk to her.

Over time, our relationship developed slowly with short exchanges of words. But when we went on a school trip to Ardèche, a valley in France, I was able to truly talk to her for the first time. It was a camp that lasted a few days. We were expected to kayak through the valley on a turquoise blue river, peppered with moderately big white rocks. The sun was blazing, but the water was cool enough to keep us going. As we reached our camping site, I helped her carry equipment from the kayak. Through the rocky path where trees bend over to give us shade, I made her laugh for the first time.

When I came back to the barren hills and crystal lakes of Patagonia, I wept a little.

I can’t tell how much of this memory is real. Some people told me most of the memory that I have could be made up. Dostoyevsky’s Underground Man argued that we distort truthto fit our own version of reality. But now that I have this nostalgic landscape, I suddenly felt refreshed. I felt a pint of happiness. And for now, this pint of happiness is hanging around in my mind. It makes this trip to Argentina even more colorful overall.

For me, this nostalgic landscape of the heart was triggered by a series of events spanning the worlds of word, sight and sound. This fresh landscape of Argentina was beautiful not only because of its purity. It was also because it dug deep into my inner consciousness. There I found nostalgic landscape that I longed for. But I wonder whether it was the landscape or the person that kept me refreshed through the years?

And as I grow old, perhaps this freshness, like a rekindled fire, will help me grow old. Joyfully.