4

 A friend invites me to visit the Japanese Garden with him after hours, when only members are allowed. I can get in for free with my museum ID, but it’s nice to go when hardly anyone else is there. His girlfriend and her sister meet us there, though we’re not sure if they’ll let us all in with his membership. It turns out they only let you have one guest. I show my ID and ask if I can get in, and the woman behind the glass gets instantly frustrated. I tell her it’s okay, that I just thought I’d ask. She sighs and says she’ll have to check, that we should wait while she takes care of the three other people in line. When she’s done I approach the window again and she snarls that she can do it this one time. I thank her and she shoots me a look like she wishes I were dead.

            We follow the meandering paths through the garden. This is one of my favorite spots in Portland. My friend calls our attention to a stone basin with water flowing into it. He scoops a handful of water into the smooth gray stones at the base of the fountain. A delicate tinkling emanates from under the stones, as if there are bells hidden beneath the earth. It’s called a suikinkutsu, or water harp, he explains. Beneath the stones is a ceramic bowl, buried upside down. The sound it makes when the water hits it is incredibly lovely. I’ve come here many times and have never realized it was there, a beautiful secret. We take turns scooping out water until a nearby generator kicks in, drowning out everything with its roar.