Tag Archives: Buddha

Roasting the Masu-Bean

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Another day, another post about the endless goings-on in the Asakusa area of Tokyo. I wander aimlessly toward Senso-ji Temple, walking with my head in the clouds as I follow the distant bellow of a beating drum. It somehow slipped my mind that today was the official festival of Setsubun, but here I am now, standing in the cold amongst the eager crowd.

Thousands of people wait in front of a wooden stage constructed specifically for the event. Poor carpentry makes the stage look out of place, perhaps even unfinished. I hadn’t planned on attending today, but with nothing else to do on this gloomy afternoon, and finding myself standing here, I decide it might be best to stick around and enjoy the spirit of this age-old festival.

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The television people are here, filming every second of the action. But sadly for me, and unfortunately for the television crew, the action is a little muted. First, an announcer takes to the stage and begins reading out names. Some get no reaction at all; other names cause the crowd to cheer with excitement. One name gets a huge reaction, but I was barely listening to a word the announcer was saying because I allowed myself to become distracted by a pigeon.

Eventually, the twelve celebrities waltz onto the stage. They each carry a large wooden masu box, usually reserved for large quantities of sake. At the announcer’s count, they all start throwing pouches of roasted beans into the crowd. Following the bean-throwing, each of the twelve ‘celebrities’ is given a chance to speak with the microphone, seemingly using the opportunity for self-promotion before thanking the crowds for attending.

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The last person to speak on the badly erected wooden stage is Animal Hamaguchi, a famous Japanese wrestler who coached his own daughter, Kyoko. She went on to win two Olympic medals in wrestling. Kyoko was born in this area too, so it is no surprise that she was chosen to take part in the event.

After Animal has finished speaking, a man sings ‘When You’re Smiling’ by Louis Armstrong; he sings in very clear English. Some of the other guests join in too. Animal Hamaguchi decides to start shouting in Japanese and laughs deeply, much to the enjoyment of the people around me. Pigeons fly away in fear as his laughter echoes around the grounds of the temple. “Mwahahaha!”

The festival ends, and the crowds disperse. I decide to do a little exploring in the area close to my house. I walk to a small park and am surprised to see that there is another festival taking place, albeit a little stranger than one that encourages the throwing of roasted plant seeds.

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The festival offers no explanation behind its meaning. The only clue here is an array of masked men and women. They march around the park, passing the swings and the slide before heading off toward the red-light district. I am completely oblivious as to what this festival is here to represent; my confusion further added to by all kinds of different Japanese costumes, including dragons, ghosts, foxes, demons, and flute-playing elephants.

After the festival, I decide to explore a little further. I stumble upon Tozenji Temple, said to house one of the six jizos of Tokyo. A jizo is a Buddhist saint in search of truth and enlightenment; they are also guardians of children. It appears that the statue of this saint has been stolen or is simply missing. The only thing of interest here is another large statue of Buddha.

zozenji[1]

After walking in almost a full circle, I arrive back in Asakusa and head over to the Sumida River. I stare into the glistening waters for far too long, looking directly at the reflection of Tokyo Skytree. The way the river shakes and shimmers distorts the image of the tower, and it does begin to take the form of a tree. After a while, I forget where I am, lost to the flow of time. It is only when my hands begin to feel frozen that I snap out of the trancelike state that I have allowed my mind to enter.

My head returns to the clouds, and I wander around like a lost child, looking for excitement. There isn’t even a jizo around to guide me. Eventually, I find a clothing store that displays a wonderful sign. I believe the sign is trying to tell people not to consume food or drink inside their establishment.

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Unfortunately for the shop, a translation blunder instead suggests that lactation is forbidden, much to my amazement.

Journey to the Centre of the Buddha

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It has gotten very cold as of late, but today offers rare blue skies and a warm winter sun. Today might be the last day hot enough to do anything practical before spring, so I decide to make the most of it with a day trip out of Tokyo. My destination is a little over two hours away by train: the city of Kamakura.

Outside Kamakura Station, I am approached by a poorly dressed Japanese man speaking in English with an American accent. He is banging on about Buddhism, or something. When I mention that I have things to do, he looks a little disappointed before wandering off to talk to some new people just off the train.

I wander through the city, its streets lined with souvenir shops, gift shops, and stores selling various mementos. At this point, I realise I haven’t taken a single photograph in Kamakura, so I decide to walk up to the first temple I see.

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Shu Genji Temple doesn’t exude much happiness. It was once the residence of Shijo Kingo, a renowned Nichiren Buddhist skilled in medicine. Following Nichiren’s death, Shijo Kingo attended the funeral but ultimately chose to end his own life to demonstrate his unwavering faith in the religion.

A little further from the temple, I spot a strange machine covered in stickers. The ‘Happy Capsule’ machine costs ¥100, and each capsule contains at least three prizes. I try to resist, but as if possessed by some demon from another world, I find that I have already inserted a coin.

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My capsule contains a small glass fish statue with fried eggs randomly painted on each side, a colourful ankle bracelet with a small relic in the shape of an ice cream, and a teddy bear with the word ‘Love’ written on it. I also receive a ‘Lucky Sticker,’ which I am free to add to all the other lucky stickers that litter the machine. Noting the sign for ‘No Garbage,’ I take another look at my happy prizes and stand for a moment, enjoying the irony.

Eventually, I arrive at the place I came here to visit, Kotoku-in Temple. It is home to a giant Buddha, the same Buddha featured in Rudyard Kipling’s poem ‘The Five Nations.

A tourist-show, a legend told,
A rusting bulk of bronze and gold,
So much, and scarce so much, ye hold,
The meaning of Kamakura?

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I pay ¥200 to enter the grounds of the temple and stand for a while in awe. The Great Buddha of Kamakura was housed within a wooden temple three times. It was destroyed by strong winds twice but rebuilt on both occasions. Eventually, in 1498, it was destroyed for a third time by a tsunami and was never rebuilt. The Buddha survived and now sits outside in the cold of winter, patiently waiting for the seasons to change.

As I walk around the statue, I notice two windows located in its back. There is a sign in Japanese emphasising the importance of showing deep respect when walking around inside the Great Buddha. A man sits half asleep at a small booth, and a sign above displays a price of ¥20. For such a low price, I would be a fool not to enter. I squeeze my way into a small hole in Buddha’s side and take the steps up into his massive belly.

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Inside the Great Buddha of Kamakura, the acoustics are fantastic. I speak softly to myself and find that my words are thrown around by the bronze interior, echoing off into infinity. However, a bit of graffiti inside slightly spoils the experience — a complete lack of reverence by some.

I exit the Buddha and leave the temple. On the way out, I spot a sign warning about a particular type of bird in the area that likes to steal food from tourists. I start heading back toward the train station, stopping off at a small food shop to enjoy a sweet potato croquette. All the while, I keep my eye out for the hungry birds. Unfortunately, the birds don’t materialise, which is a shame.

I decide to take a different route for variety, and eventually, I spot some steps that sweep up a mountain. Intrigued, I take a little detour to see where they might lead.

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I find myself standing in front of Amanawa Shinmei Shrine. The place is deserted, seemingly untouched for years, presenting a stark contrast to the other places I have seen in Kamakura. This shrine, founded in 710 AD, is the oldest Shinto shrine in the city and is dedicated to Amaterasu, the goddess of the sun and the universe.

The view from the shrine is stunning, offering a different perspective of the area. In the distance, I see mountains, old houses, and multiple temples and shrines. From the top of the steps, I can also glimpse the sea. As I am about to leave, I spot a small path carved into the side of the mountain above, and with nobody else around, I decide to investigate.

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As I climb, the path is relatively easy to follow, twisting around the mountain and becoming less obvious. I have to brush away cobwebs from my face as I follow the steep approach. With every step, I am careful not to lose my footing as the mud gets wetter and the path becomes steeper. After about five minutes of climbing, the overgrowth becomes too much, and I can’t continue. I stop and take a look around, taking in my surroundings, and realise that this was probably not a good idea.

I struggle to get back down, having to crawl a little to ease my way down from the path that has clearly not been used for years. I use my hands on the rocks as I work my way back to safety. I am slightly disappointed that I couldn’t find where it leads, perhaps to the sun goddess, or maybe just an escape route lost over time. There’s nothing for me to see, though, and eventually, I am back at the shrine, taking the steps back toward the main road.

I wander down deserted side streets that are full of old houses, some with massive gardens, others with disproportionately small ones.

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Back at Kamakura Station, I get ready to endure another two hours sitting on trains. Day trips are fun but rather exhausting at the same time. It’s nice to escape, though, and see places that offer a difference. I think about climbing up that mountain path, feeling completely free for a short time—free from anything but my own eagerness to explore, or perhaps to escape altogether. I decide that my next day trip will be to a mountain of sorts, a place unlike those I have been discovering of late. Somewhere new and exciting, where I can rekindle my sense of adventure. A place flowing with natural beauty.

As I arrive back in Tokyo, a chill consumes the air. Above, thick clouds made of snow hover over the skyscrapers, lying in wait—almost ready to unleash their flakes of misery over the city.