Round, Round, Get Around, I Get Around

This weekend, a local event known as ‘A-Round,’ short for Asakusa Around, is taking place. Sixty-nine different stalls, cafes, and galleries have signed up for the event. I am fortunate enough to have been invited along for a small walking tour, hosted by my friend, local resident, and Japan expert, Gomez. We meet up at noon, and a group of five, including me, sets off on foot to explore some of the rich Asakusa history and to get a feel for some old Japanese culture.

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We wander the backstreets tucked away behind Senso-ji Temple, an area slightly out of the way and not commonly visited by tourists. Gomez takes us to his favourite karaoke bar, saying, “This bar stays open until 7 a.m. I often visit here.” We walk through an area that used to be heavily populated by geisha many years ago and is now home to the geisha headquarters. Gomez tells us, “If you hang around this area at night, you might even see a real geisha!”

Our first real stop of the tour is a small leather shop. Outside, snake skins, sea lion furs, crocodile leather, and boxes of leather scraps are hanging for sale at very low costs. Like the other participating stores, this shop has a blue banner outside with the words ‘A-Round.’ All stores taking part display this sign and are each having an open day of sorts—a nice way to increase trade and boost tourism.

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Inside, we are welcomed humbly, allowed to take photographs, and even given the opportunity to try a few things hands-on. Hanging from the ceiling of the shop is a huge black leather crocodile skin. The shopkeeper tells us that it’s the largest single piece of leather in Japan, measuring seven metres long. The store even breeds their own crocodiles specifically for leather production.

The next stop is a cafe called ‘Ameshin.’ The shop has been open for a little over a year and is run by artist and craftsman Shinri Tezuka. The cafe is all about candy, with candy-flavoured drinks served, and the spacious room nicely decorated with candy shaped like animals.

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It turns out that the owner makes these sweet fish himself and has recently gained popularity by showcasing his craftsmanship at an aquarium in Nihonbashi. Today, just for us, he will make a fish from scratch.

He starts by rolling a ball of soft hot candy in the palms of his hands, forming it into a rough outline of a kingyo (goldfish). Next, using only his hands and a pair of scissors, Tezuka trims the candy to shape the fin. As he models the sweet, his strong concentration makes him look like he’s in a trancelike state.

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This traditional Japanese process is done at some speed. After just a few minutes, the outer part of the candy has started to harden, and soon it will be impossible to shape it any further. Tezuka finishes the kingyo by painting it with a natural pigment before adding eyes to finish. “It is a beautiful kingyo made from candy. It shines as though it is alive,” he remarks.

Next, we head down a street that once was a small stream, now completely dried up. The stream used to flow from the Sumida River, running along the area behind Senso-ji Temple and beyond, toward the Yoshiwara red-light district. Gomez tells us, “Many sailors would tell their wives that they were going by boat to the temple to pray; instead, they would continue down this stream and into Yoshiwara.”

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We head to the studio of the famous Japanese bag maker Kichizo Yoshida. Founded in 1935, the company is known for big brand names like ‘Porter.’ I learn that Yoshida died twenty years ago, yet he continued to make bags right up until the day he died. Today, his legacy lives on, and the birthplace of his bags has been transformed into a modern-looking gallery, juxtaposed by the original tools and machinery he used when he first started out. We meet his sister, who is taking care of business. She lets us take some photographs and gives us a chance to do some stitching. “Heart and soul into every stitch,” she says.

Next, Gomez wants to show us two very different places. The first one is a shrine full of cats.

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Most shrines in Japan represent something, perhaps a different god or some superstition. This one, however, represents the harmony of marriage through the medium of felines. Maneki Neko (fortune cats) are famous across the world, but they originated right here in Taito Ward, at Imado Shrine.

The shrine is family-run, and many generations ago, they made a living from crafting fox statues from the rich clay of the Sumida River. The family also had a pet cat. One day, seeking a change from the usual foxes, they decided to make clay cats modelled in the shape of their pet. These cats are what are known today as fortune cats and are seen outside many restaurants and some small businesses, often signifying a successful future.

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The cat with the black spot, I am told, is male. Nowadays, people visit this shrine to hope for prosperity in marriage. Couples visit before they are wed, buy a circular piece of wood with two fortune cats engraved on one side, write a message on the back, and attach it to a tree.

After getting married, the couples return and attach a second wooden plate to the original to seal the marriage and receive good fortune. There are so many trees and so many wooden messages hanging here that I can only assume every man and woman in Tokyo has visited this shrine and is subsequently now married.

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After the shrine, we visit Matsuchiyama Shoten, a fourteen-hundred-year-old Buddhist temple that sits at the top of a large hill. The temple is so high up that it even boasts its own cable car to help people reach the top. The hill famously appeared overnight, as if by magic. Then, a huge golden dragon appeared from heaven and landed on the hill. This event is somehow connected to a certain root vegetable: the radish.

Usually, at a temple, a small donation of coins is gratefully accepted. However, here they only accept donations of radishes. The people inside the temple are worshiping radishes. You can even buy radishes at a small stall near the entrance for ¥500 each, just in case you left yours in the supermarket. I discover that the radish is a symbol of health, family harmony, and heavenly golden dragons.

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Next, we wander back into Asakusa to Hatch, a small coffee shop with four floors of empty gallery space above and a lovely rooftop terrace. The gallery was supposed to be filled with paintings, but the owner got drunk and forgot to prepare. Instead of buying a coffee and admiring the artwork, we leave slightly disappointed.

Our final stop of the tour is by the Sumida River, in a large exhibition space close to the Azuma Bridge. Inside, there are many small stands, each selling different leather products. The shop that interests me the most sells leather artwork. The designer tells us that one piece of work takes three months to complete. All hand-etched using a soldering iron, he sits, burning detail into leather.

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The piece above depicts the Sanja Matsuri, an annual festival held in Asakusa. His art comes with a pricey ¥300,000 tag. He’ll be waiting until the cows come home to get that kind of money …

The artist tells us he wants to spread the joy of Japan to the rest of the world. He is selling some lovely leather iPhone cases for ¥12,000; the detail is delightful, and they would make an excellent souvenir. He takes a photograph of our group, clearly humbled that we took the time to talk to him. After that, the tour concludes, and we each go our separate ways.

On my way home, I head through the area that we had walked through earlier today. A geisha in full makeup darts past me; her wooden shoes clanking on the hard pavement. I am stunned. This is actually the first time I have ever seen a practicing geisha freely wandering around. Other times I have seen them, they have been part of an event or exhibition. It appears that Gomez was right about this area.

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After a few short minutes, I hear the sound of more wooden shoes on concrete and find that a second geisha is walking down the street. She moves elegantly but very fast, and although I take quite a few photographs, for some reason, they all turn out looking like a blur. Seconds after spotting her, she has floated away like an incredible ghost.

“What Goes Up Must Come Down.”

Today, it’s back to exploring the Toei Oedo Line. I take two trains and eventually arrive at Bunkyo. As soon as I exit the train station, I am overwhelmed. In front of me is the massive Tokyo Dome, the home of the Yomiuri Giants baseball team, but this isn’t why I am here. Outside the stadium, there is the strangest roller coaster I have ever seen, Thunder Dolphin. The seventh tallest continuous circuit roller coaster in the world; it twists and turns between the buildings and through the middle of the first Ferris wheel in the world to have a hollow centre; again, this isn’t why I am here.

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Today, I’m in Bunkyo to see a tree.

I follow what looks like a castle wall for about ten minutes before eventually arriving at the entrance to Koishikawa Korakuen Gardens. Special Historic Site and Special Place of Scenic Beauty, the gardens are named after a poem by Chinese poet, Fan Zhongyan; the poem is Yueyang Castle.

Be the first to take the world’s trouble to heart, be the last to enjoy the world’s pleasure.

At the entrance, I pay my ¥300 and make an inquiry about the location of the tree. “That is a different garden,” says the woman as she hands me the ticket I have just paid for. She then takes out a map of Bunkyo and highlights where I am right now, then circles the place where the tree is. Not wanting to upset the apple cart by asking for my money back, I thank her for her help and enter the gardens anyway.

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The first thing that strikes me is the magic of Tokyo Dome. The dome is white and provides an impressive backdrop to the many Japanese silver leaf and maple trees. The interesting thing, though, is that the dome refuses to be photographed. As I focus my camera, the roof of the dome just magically disappears as it blends into the white Autumn sky. It’s hard to explain. The roof is made of some magical material that makes it look like a living organism, perhaps a chameleon.

I continue to explore the wrong gardens; the peace and tranquillity are quite welcoming. A huge lake takes up most of the area, and there is a nice walking route around the lake. The only thing that spoils it for me is the restoration project that is currently taking place until next year. The workers here have their work cut out today as it appears that a large part of the lake has crumbled during this week’s flooding. Water is being sucked away by a huge industrial pump.

The thing that makes these gardens worth a visit though, is the scarecrows.

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I actually spent time last week trying to find rice fields in Tokyo, just so that I could see what a Japanese scarecrow looks like. Today I am not disappointed. Never mind the crows, these sinister creations scare even me.

I continue to explore the deserted gardens. I must be the only person here; presumably everyone else in Japan is in Ginza queueing up for the new iPhone. I walk all the way around the lake, and toward the exit. I am really looking forward to revisiting all nine of the Metropolitan Cultural Heritage Gardens in Tokyo during different seasons; in a month’s time, I will get to enjoy the dappled shades of autumn leaves.

I leave Koishikawa Korakuen Gardens and walk the thirty minutes to the similarly named Koishikawa Botanical Gardens. I pay the ¥400 entry fee and explore.

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These gardens are managed by the University of Tokyo Graduate School of Science and are the birthplace of Japanese botanical research. Dating back to 1684, the garden displays a collection of over four thousand species of plants and a herbarium containing over 1.4 million specimens. With over four thousand species and a map written entirely in Japanese, my search for one specific tree is almost fruitless.

I wander through the lush garden foliage for over an hour; it is the most peaceful place I’ve been to since leaving Kyoto. Eventually, I find Mendel’s Grapevine. Next to the grapevine is the tree, Newton’s apple tree.

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The tree rarely grows apples. When it finally does bear fruit, the apples are instantly devoured by the many crows in the park, so many crows; maybe I should have stolen a scarecrow from the other gardens.

Sir Isaac Newton’s apple tree is not the original tree that he floated under before he invented gravity. This tree is just a sapling from the famous tree and was delivered to Japan in 1964. It was almost incinerated on arrival at Haneda International Airport because the leaves were infected, but an agreement was made so that the tree could be replanted in an isolated environment, and now it is here.

Rather ironically, I learned today that the original Newton’s apple tree is in Lincolnshire, England. My birthplace.

After I inspect the tree, it is time to head back to Asakusa. I walk fifteen minutes to Myogadani Station, before taking the Marunouchi Line to Ochanomizu Station. Here I walk ten minutes in the direction of Akihabara. I get a little lost on the way, but eventually see the familiar sign for Big Apple Pachinko and Slot, and finally know where I am. I take the train from Akihabara back to Asakusa.

Back at the hostel, I drink in the bar for a while before meeting up with Malaysia, Germany, Italy, Chicago, and Japan, and the six of us head to Nui until close. After, we head to an all-night karaoke bar with the most confusing pricing structure ever. Everyone has incredibly good music taste, and I enjoy The Smiths until the early hours. There’s music and there’s people, and they’re young and alive.

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One thing that strikes me about karaoke in Japan is the videos. They don’t have the license to show the official music videos, so instead, they show random Japanese men sitting on park benches or salarymen rushing around the crowded streets of Tokyo.

We sing and drink gin until daylight.