A city that wraps you in a blanket of crisp, cold air and warm hospitality, like a cup of hot chocolate on a winter's day.
If Tokyo is a fast-paced electronic beat, and Kyoto a traditional shamisen ballad, then Sapporo is a jazz ensemble, improvising as it goes, embracing a rhythm all its own. It's as though the city took a look at the rulebook, smiled, and gently tossed it out the window.
In one corner, there's Odori Park, a strip of greenery that changes costumes with the seasons, now a spectacular carpet of pink cherry blossoms, now a riot of autumnal hues, and then, a pure, unblemished white as winter lays claim. How can one park wear so many faces? You click the shutter, wondering if you've truly captured its versatile beauty.
To your left, the angular modernity of the Sapporo TV Tower, a sentinel in steel and lights, a nod to the march of progress. To your right, the iconic Clock Tower, a whisper of the city's past, a gentle reminder of time ticking away, unhurried, uncaring of the world spinning around it.
But Sapporo is not just a cityscape. It's the murmur of the underground shopping streets, the laughter spilling from the ramen yokocho alley, the cheer of the Snow Festival, the hushed silence of the ski slopes, the celebration of nature in Moerenuma Park.
Sapporo, then, is a city of contrasts and harmony, a testament to Japan's ability to embrace the new while cherishing the old. It is ancient yet contemporary, bustling yet peaceful, dreamlike yet strikingly real.
As a photographer in Sapporo, you don’t just take photos; you bottle up moments, moods, a piece of the soul of the city. And just like the city itself, you find your own rhythm, clicking the shutter not to the beat of the chaotic metropolis, but to the smooth, melodic rhythm of Sapporo, the city that dances to its own tune. It's a city that defies definition, refuses to fit into a mold.
And while you set out to capture Sapporo, you might find that it is the city that has truly captured you, holding you gently in its melodious, snow-kissed grasp.