Today I went to Metasequoia Park.
Nobu san invited me, a great photographer who is very well known in the art world here in Japan. But the first thing that touched me was not his fame, or his career, or even the place. It was the way he wrote to me.
“Beni, let's have some tea! It just occurred to me. Find a little time to go and see the greenery in the park near here; I'll try to make time too. In May, a morning or an afternoon to relax.”
For many people, perhaps it is just a simple message. For me, it was much more.
In Japan, an invitation like that, so direct, so warm, so free of barriers, is not so common. I come from a country where sometimes you call, turn up, invite someone, embrace life without measuring the distance so carefully. That is why receiving that message filled me with joy. I felt something familiar. Something human. Something that did not need too many explanations.
— ◆ —
When I arrived at the park, I found an enormous grove of trees. It was beautiful. More than a park, it looked like a small natural mountain, with a lake in the middle and a calm you could breathe in from the very first step.
I took Batres out of the car, and there he was, as if he were Tarzan arriving in his own land. It took him almost no time to put his nose to work, searching for all the smells coming from every corner of the park. Earth, trees, moisture, leaves, paths, people in the distance, fresh air. For him, this was not just a walk. It was an entire world opening up before his nose.
We walked for a few minutes, and I met Nobu san.
He was sitting quietly on a bench. From the very first moment, I had the feeling that he was someone accustomed to dealing with all kinds of people. There was a special calm about him. A very unforced naturalness. I would even say he has a very Latin temperament, the kind that makes you feel comfortable without having to prepare the conversation too much.
I approached him, he greeted me warmly, and straight away everything felt easy.
— ◆ —
What surprised me most was Batres.
Batres, who normally barks or growls when someone approaches me or him, did nothing this time. He did not bark. He did not get nervous. He did not defend himself against any new presence. He simply stayed quietly on the bench, with the two of us, listening to the conversation as if he understood that there was no danger there.
That is very unusual for Batres.
And perhaps that is why the moment stayed with me. Because when a dog who usually protects everything decides to remain calm, you feel that there is something good in the energy of the person in front of you.
— ◆ —
It was a wonderful walk.
We walked, we talked, and I learned so much from my conversations with Nobu san. He has a way of looking at the world that comes not only from the camera, but from having observed people so much. From having seen so many faces, so many bodies, so many silences. You can tell when someone has spent a lifetime truly looking.
I was so excited that I forgot to have lunch. Time passed in the park, and I did not even notice. Sometimes that only happens when you are somewhere your body asks for nothing more, because your soul is already being nourished in another way.
— ◆ —
I am so happy about the beautiful day of friendship I spent with Nobu san.
When I got home, I received the photos he had taken of Batres and me in the park. And when I saw them, I felt gratitude. Not only for the images, but for the time. For the way he looked at us. For the invitation. For that simple way of saying: “let's have something to drink, let's see some greenery, let's create a little time of calm.”
Some friendships begin quietly. Without ceremony. Without explanation.
They simply appear one day, in a park, beside a lake, with a calm dog at your side and a conversation that stays within you.
I hope this friendship is one of those that, when you grow old, keeps walking by your side.
Metasequoia Park: Google Maps
Photographs: Nobu san / @kurubushi88
Benito García: @benitogarcia_japon
BG Flamenco Academy: bgflamenco.com
Photograph: Nobu san / Photo Hidetaka Nobu