new year | Japanising.com

I wake up early and resume my pilgrimage. My first stop is Jueiji Temple, which happens to be five minutes from my house. Inside the temple sits Hotei. He is often described as fat and happy. He certainly appears very fat and happy, as he is the god of abundance and good health. Awkwardly, I join a queue of people with my camera out. Yesterday, I didn’t take any photographs of the actual gods; I was more caught up in the stories of the temples.

Today, I wait patiently as people before me offer their prayers. They place coins in the gaping mouth of Hotei, though he certainly doesn’t need anything else to eat. One person even starts rubbing the statue’s body with his hand. Eventually, it’s my turn. I quickly snap a photograph before leisurely descending the stone steps to exit the temple.

As I exit, a man chases me down the street. I stop, completely confused. He hands me a map of the pilgrimage trail. Brilliant, I think. No more confusing maps and getting lost. The only problem is that the map is written entirely in Japanese, and is therefore confusing and will most likely get me lost.

I head to my second stop, Shohoin Temple, also known as the Flying God Temple. I am here to meet the fourth god of seven, Ebisu. Ebisu is the god of fishers or merchants and is often depicted carrying a fish. In the temple, a sign says, “Ebisu is the god of candour, cheerfulness, and goog [sic] fortune.”

Sitting beside the god are two statues of Arhat. These represent individuals who have undergone enough religious training to become worthy after attaining enlightenment. Arhat is often used as an honorific title for those blessed persons who have realised the ultimate truth. While the reason for these two statues sitting beside the sacred god of fishing isn’t explained, at least this temple features some English text.

I head over to Ryusen, to Bentenin Temple. This temple is difficult to find, located basically in a children’s play park and quite tiny. There is no activity here, no other pilgrims in sight. It’s as if this temple has either been missed off the route, or everyone is wandering around the side streets in search of this sacred spot. With no sign of a god anywhere, I snap a photograph that might be, but probably isn’t, the goddess Benzaiten; the goddess of knowledge, art, beauty, and music.

The goddess is usually depicted carrying a musical instrument, but this statue isn’t, which is the reason for my doubt.

I head back to Asakusa. My pilgrimage is put on hold for another day, thanks to a trip to the dentist. I’ve now lost count of the number of times I’ve been to the dentist in Japan. It has become nothing more than a fortnightly inconvenience. Still, off I go, alone. As I sit in the waiting room at five to five, anticipating my half-past-four appointment, the wait is actually killing me.

An elderly woman enters, holding a wrapped present with a bow in tow. She hands it over to the receptionist, smiles, then bows. I find it unusual that someone would bring a present to the dentist. Next, a mother and daughter ask if they can ‘borrow’ one of the books for children. Again, a strange reason to make a visit to the dentist. Eventually, I am called, thirty minutes after my scheduled appointment time. Inside the ‘treatment room,’ the dentist holds up a gold bracelet that clearly belongs to a woman. “Luke-san, is this yours?” she asks, with genuine inquisition and lacking any sense of irony. What was supposed to be an amusing anecdote about dental floss has somehow descended into a gift-giving ceremony, a library, and a circus.

The dentist pulls out a ‘super sonic,’ as she calls it, and sprays water on my teeth. Next, she uses a scraping tool to clean, before finally flossing my teeth for me. Effectively, I have gone to the dentist to have my teeth brushed. Afterwards, the dentist gives me a packet of dental floss as a parting gift, wishes me a Happy New Year, and charges me just ¥740. Thank you, Japanese National Health Insurance.

I leave the dentist just as night begins to engulf the city. I head over to Senso-ji Temple. The crowds of people haven’t dispersed, and the New Year celebrations are still in full swing. For some reason, the first three days of the New Year are important days to visit temples and shrines, and because of this, queues of thousands are still waiting to pray for the first time this year. As I wander through the hordes of people, a man on stilts dressed as a giant sheep almost kicks me to the ground.

Still fatigued from seven days of intense sightseeing, I head home for another early night. Tomorrow, I will visit the final two gods of the pilgrimage, and finally, I can enjoy a much-needed break from exploring the city.

The four of us from last night absorb a new person into our group, a guy called Josh. We head out on foot toward Ueno Park. Today, the National Museum of Western Art is having a free admission day, and despite being in Japan, we consider it worth a look. We stroll inside and are asked to show our tickets. “Free admission day,” I tell the lady.
“You still need to get a ticket,” she informs me. We head out of the museum and to the ticket office. We ask for five tickets, and hand over no money before heading back inside and handing over the tickets to the lady. A rather trivial exercise.

The Museum of Western Art is the primary institution of its kind in Japan, emphasising paintings with a few sculptures thrown in for good measure. The museum is adorned with an abundance of macabre Baroque works, where death and torture seem to be popular themes. Amidst the horror, notable pieces include ‘The Last Supper’ painted by Marten de Vos, Vincent van Gogh’s ‘Roses’, and a rather disappointing collection of Claude Monet paintings. Not one to truly appreciate art, I find that Monet’s work looks terrible up close, especially ‘Water Lilies’, which, in my opinion, looks plain awful.

My favourite piece on display is Pablo Picasso’s ‘Couple’. Abstract expressionism has always been a preference of mine; I’ll take this over a bowl of fruit or a basket of flowers any day. Picasso painted this incredible piece at eighty-eight years old.

We leave the museum and take a Yamanote Line train from Ueno to Ikebukuro. Outside the station, we need to head east. Josh turns out to be well-prepared, pulling out an actual compass and casually guiding us in the direction of east. This earns him the nickname ‘Compass Josh’ for the rest of the day, and he seems to take to the idea quite fondly.

The reason we are here is to visit a shop run by a company that has faced criticism for its practices, including accusations of contributing to infant mortality in underdeveloped countries due to its reluctance to spend extra profit on proper labelling for its baby milk formula. The shop sells a specific type of confectionery that is hugely popular in Japan. This two-fingered chocolate-covered wafer bar confection is available in many remarkable flavours, such as wasabi, strawberry cheesecake, and sakura.

While the others queue for their chocolate, I wander around outside and admire the street art.

We head to a small coffee shop before making our way back to the train station. On the platform, two men are fighting. One guy stands up and walks away, his face dripping with blood, his eyes bruised. This is the first time I witness violence like this in Japan, and it comes as a bit of a shock.

I head home for a while to prepare for a performance this evening before meeting the others in Odaiba. Compass Josh’s partner, Jessica, has joined us, expanding our group to six. We explore the giant statue of Gundam before settling in the food court of Diver City, enjoying overpriced wine in undersized glasses. Outside Diver City, an extraordinary bus stop catches my eye, begging to be photographed.

Tonight in Odaiba, a special fireworks display is scheduled for 7 p.m. We wander around the area, with the evening darkness stolen by extravagant illuminations. There’s a feeling of forgotten Christmas lights here, and decorations that will likely remain year-round. Trees glisten, Tokyo Tower in the distance shines orange, and the Rainbow Bridge is bathed in a spectrum of light from red to violet.

We position ourselves on the balcony of the Decks building, a vast shopping mall offering a spectacular view of Tokyo Bay. At exactly seven o’clock, fireworks shoot into the sky, creating a dazzling display that lasts for ten minutes. Below us, boats are illuminated in various colours, their reflections shimmering on the water alongside the radiant Rainbow Bridge. Tokyo Tower continues to shine in the distance. The backdrop consists of a sea of lights from office buildings, adding to the immersive experience. In the foreground, the glow from the massive firework display warms the air, completing the enchanting scene.

After the fireworks, we take the train back to Asakusa, passing by the Fuji TV building as it displays bright flashing text: ‘What a cool we are!’

Back in Asakusa, we part ways. I head to Cafe Byron Bay for a bonenkai, a ‘forget the year’ party widely celebrated here. The tap-dancing balloon artist, whom I first saw performing on the streets of Asakusa during my first week in Japan, is here to entertain. A belly dancer is also putting on a show. I perform with trumpet and guitar. Food is free and all-you-can-eat. Everyone gets very drunk. After the entertainment, we each give a speech about the year we’ve had and what we hope to achieve in 2015. My resolution and absolute aim are to publish a science-fiction novel.

After the end-of-year party, I head out with seven Japanese friends for a second night in a row of karaoke.

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