19 August Asakusa, the Senso-ji
temple, bashed by cash, an oriental shopping bazaar, a French
café and an Italian meal.
Rising
late, Val and I took the subway to Asakusa. Val had visited
here before on her previous trip to Japan, and was keen to show
it to me. Unfortunately, we took the wrong exit from the
vast station complex and missed the front entrance to the
Senso-ji temple complex, which is what we had come to see. Thus
we entered by a side gate, and had to exit by the main entrance
in order to enter by it, as one should do. There is an
enormous red paper lantern hung in the kaminarimon gateway
(“Gate of the god of thunder”), and we duly re-entered.
On the inner side of the gate itself is a colossal pair of
sandals made of rope. Val duly posed for photos by them,
indicating just how delicate and tiny hers were by comparison.
Suddenly
we – or more accurately, Val – were approached by half
a dozen young Japanese people. They were university
students studying English, who hung around the temple precincts
ready to offer a free conducted tour of Senso-ji to any
westerners who showed up. They were very keen to practice
their English language skills. In fact, Val, having been
there previously knew as much (if not more) about the temple as
the students, but we were very happy to be shown round by them,
and found them engaging company.
After
washing ourselves in the usual way, and being persuaded to
“bathe” in the smoke from the large incense stove, we
went up to the main temple building.
The
smoke is a prophylactic against, and cure for, all known ills,
apparently. So judging by my coughing fit, I should never
get a cough, cold, influenza, pneumonia or bronchitis ever in my
life.
There
was a Buddhist ritual in progress. We watched and heard the
proceedings through a wire mesh window. There was a priest
and a small congregation, who appeared to take little part in the
ceremonial.
We could
hear a lot of that Buddhist “Ommmmmmmmmmm” growling
chant.
In
front of the mesh window was a large wooden box built into the
temple wall. From a distance, Japanese visitors in numbers
were throwing large handfuls of coins into the box.
Unfortunately, I was
standing close to the box and was thus in their way. The noise of
the coins falling into the box, not to mention the noise of coins
striking my head (causing me to offer my own incantation:
“Owwwwwwwwwwwww”), drowned out much of the sound of the
chanting from within the temple. Retreating to a safer
distance, I noted that the students (and Val) all thought my
experience amusing. But as there was no actual drawing of
blood, their amusement soon waned.
The
students urged Val and me to tell our fortunes. For a fee
of 100 Yen, sealed metal cylinders with 100 numbered rods within
were shaken and one rod extracted via a hole in the lid.
The number on the rod
indicated which pre-printed paper fortune to select. My
fortune was in incomprehensible
kanji. However, by dint of great intellectual effort, I
turned the paper over and found my fortune printed in English, or
at least in Japlish.
It referred to great prosperity and was therefore a lucky omen.
Val’s was more cryptic and she was advised to tie it onto a
wooden frame in order to leave the bad luck behind. Which
she did.
We
bade farewell to our student guides and left by the main
entrance. Between the main entrance and the road is Nakamise-dori,
a lane with shops on both sides. These sold various sweets
and other eatables, cheap touristy souvenirs as well as
surprisingly high quality souvenirs and clothing. We bought
a few bits and pieces for the folks back home, as well as a
souvenir or two for ourselves.
We
went back to Asakusa station, passing a champion butcher’s
shop (judging by the silver cup and certificates in their window)
as we did so. There was quite a queue of mainly elderly
people buying sausages and meat. I guess the shop has a
high reputation.
We
took the subway to Shibuya and walked along until we found
Harajuku. This calls itself the Champs Élysées of Tokyo.
We shopped in the “Oriental Bazaar”, a four-storeyed
collection of shops under one roof.
There are some high-quality items at fairly
reasonable prices here, and I recommend the shop for all sorts of
good souvenirs. There were original Hokusai prints at one
of the shops for around 40,000 Yen (beyond my means, but good
value). We walked along Harajuku, which does indeed have a
Boulevard feel to it. We passed the Union Church, too late
to attend their 4.00pm service. We had a drink in the Café
de Flore, at a table overlooking the street, which again had a Parisien
feel to it.
After returning to
Stephen’s apartment, we waited for Yasuko to return from
work and then went out to the splendidly-named
“Manmamiya” (geddit?) Italian restaurant, between
Myoden and Gyotoku stations, where we ate splendidly. Splendidly
sated, we wended our way to the apartment, and soon were pushing
out the Zs from the comfort of our futons.
