Asakusa and the prophesy

Monday 17th July.

I travelled for an hour across Tokyo to 'Sin Den' in Shibuya - ku. I had seen an ad in Metropolis magazine for this hair salon that employed English speaking staff and I felt like a bit of pampering so emailed them and arranged an appointment. They emailed me a map of how to get there, which I thought was pretty cool. The girl who cut my hair was a bleached-blonde mohawk-sporting Serbian. We chatted about Thailand and Tokyo clubs. She recommended a club that is supposed to be the biggest in the world called 'Agaya' - it has ten floors and swimming pools, bars, chill-out rooms, everything. I have to go there it sounds insane! I was given a head massage on a red leather bed, a complimentary cafe con crema and then my restyle. It was nice to be around English speakers, it gets so frustrating having to work so hard to make oneself understood.

It was a grey day again and I left the salon at about noon. I had roused myself at some ungodly hour for the appointment - I can't imagine what I was thinking, I mean it was the weekend! Anyway, the good thing was it meant I had the rest of the day free to do some exploring. After my bodily rejuvination I sought some kind of spiritual replenishment so went back to the metro and hopped on the Ginza line to Asakusa, the last stop. A friend at work had recommended it. It is an older part of Tokyo composed of traditional wooden houses, shrines and temples, humble lodgings, souvenir shops, the odd Buddha statue and mint-green and pink plastic flowers which hang from the lamp posts. Apparently when Japan ended its self-imposed isolation, it was here in Asakusa that the first cinemas opened.

I was uncertain of which way to walk when I arrived at my destination. I wanted to get to the temple. I took a chance and crossed the road, passing beneath an archway that framed an entrance to a bustling street. The shops sold everything from freshly cooked sembei rice crackers to handbags, from wigs to fans, postcards to porcelain and colourful boxes of edibles. I followed the crowds and found myself in a covered walkway lined with hanging red and orange paper lanterns. Souvenir stalls stretched as far as the eye could see. It was National Sea day, a public holiday, so the place was packed with Japanese as well as Western tourists. I dodged between push-chairs and shoppers, and peered at the trinkets as I went. The air was filled with the smell of oriental food, incense, barbecue and bird song.

My meanderings finally bought me to a square. A cloud of perfumed smoke rose up from a great lead cauldron a few meters ahead, and beyond it rose the magnificent Senso-Ji temple. Above the summit of its steps, beneath the curved roof of the entrance, hung a monstrous red lantern with a white symbol painted on its side. This temple is supposed to be one of the oldest in Tokyo. Well that is what it says in my guide book, however, further reading has revealed that it was actually destroyed by bombings in WW2, and rebuilt in 1950. But upon this site a golden image of Kannon, the Buddhist Goddess of mercy, which was miraculously fished out of the river in AD628, still remains enshrined - or so legend has it.To my left stood a proud five-story high pagoda, and a couple of stands selling barbecued meat.

I stood awhile and watched the people - some of whom were there for spirtual purposes but many of whom were tourists like myself. They gathered around the smoking urn holding smouldering josticks, which were then placed inside the urn in a deep bed of ash. The smoke rose up in clouds and they wafted it over their heads and bodies. It is supposed to have healing powers. Others washed from the blessed water that spouted forth from the golden dragon fountain on my right. The water is poured ceremonially over the left and then the right hand as part of the cleansing ritual, before entering the temple. What really intrigued me though was the clattering sounds. On either square of the broad walkway leading up to the temple were low wooden huts. Inside some of them were Buddist monks selling charms and incense, But between were banks of little wooden drawers, each with a different character painted on it. Inside these drawers were sre sheets of paper on which fortunes are written, in both Japanese and English. For the price of 100 yen (50p) you can have read your fortune. The way your fortune is selected is by shaking a heavy, hexagonal shape steel tube, inside which are many wooden sticks. There is a small hole in the top. After a few shakes a stick comes out. On the end of the stick is painted a character. You then have to match the character to the appropriate drawer and thus may take a copy of your fortune.

I had been watching people do this for some time. Those with bad fortunes have to fold the paper and tie it around a wire on a rack so that the wind with carry it away. It was fascinating. (What spoiled the it for me though, was the little old man who was going around pulling off all the bad fortunes and throwing them in the bin! I thought that at least he could do that at night when everyone has gone.) Anway, I thought it might be fun to get my fortune. I shook the container and got my stick, by I couldn't find the right drawer to match it with, so I asked a Japanese girl who was standing next to me. She opened the drawer and took out the fortune. Her face fell, "oh, its a bad one. But don't worry, don't worry!" (Minutes before, she had been jumping for joy because she had a good fortune.)

Ok. I read it. It said something about the fireflies in the garden being evil and the people in the sky turning their backs on the people in the garden. It then said: 'The patient will not recover. The person you are waiting for will not come. The house you are building will fall down.' Oh dear. I folded it up, tied it to the rack and walked off feeling a little disapointed. I thought about doing another one - I mean maybe I would get a better one a second time round? It must have been a mistake! I walked up the steps to the temple, and decided not to. Perhaps this was significant in some way. In actual fact, maybe I had now rid myself of my potential bad fortune and should be pleased! I am not superstitious, but I tossed a coin into the box in front of the alter anyway, where people stood contemplating or clapping, and then wandered back out to watch a performing monkey.