Happy New Year 2007 / Akimashite omedeto

December 31st. A bitter dusk descended over Tokyo. The streets of Asakusa which lead up to the shrine were overflowing with people. The air was filled with the smell of toasting sembei rice crackers. Plastic blossom sprouted in pink and white festoons from above the souvenir shops and red lanterns illuminated the long avenue.

New year is the most important festival in Japan but it is not really an excuse to party like we do back home. It is a time for family. A time for spirituality. Asakusa was just getting warmed up for a night of eating, drinking, coin tossing and prayer. Even those who don't go to shrines or temples on a regular basis visit one around new year. People essentially go to wish for luck, success, and good fortune in the coming year.

I was accompanied by a friend of mine from England. Despite her assertion that she didn't believe in it, we joined the throngs at the shrine and exchanged 100 yen for a slip of paper with our end of year fortune written on it. It is effectively lucky-dip. They range from very bad to excellent. I got a 'regular fortune' as was my friend's. Mind you, this was an improvement as the first time I tried back in June, I got a bad fortune. For a country that is so scientifically and technologically advanced it is surprising how superstitious people are. Many Japanese are keen believers in palmistry and that blood types act as predicators of ability and personality. I have heard that employers have been accused of favouring applicants of a certain blood group because of the belief that they will be better employees.

Shintoism, the native religion of Japan is accepted by most, in conjunction with Buddhism. I expected Japanese people to be active followers of these belief systems. Of course some are, but everyone I have spoken to has little interest in meditation or living in a Zen way. However, come new year's eve, everyone seems to take an interest in religion. They all want a 'taste of the action'. It somehow seemed like this shrine was a distributor of hope. Like gamblers in a Vegas casino, they lined up to toss a coin and clap and pray, or shake a canister in the hope that the stick that came out would bear a lucky symbol.

As far as I can make out the real winner here was of course 'the house'. Upon my first visit to this shrine I remember seeing an attendant stripping off all the bad fortunes that had been tied to the wire racks. He did it with such insouciance I couldn't help but feel that this was all a money making operation and not very spiritual at all. However, for all of us work weary people, living our little lives in a seemingly unjust world, perhaps the most we can hope for is a little luck.

One could argue that religion shouldn't capitalise on this human weakness, but that is the world we live in. On the other hand, the exchange of money for luck may actually be necessary to the promulgation of Buddhism. Buddhist monks survive on handouts. Even today you see them begging on the streets of Tokyo. The idea is that if you give money to them you will be granted good fortune.

It would seem though that everything comes at a price these days. Value is relative to cost. If something is free, people rarely believe it is worth anything. Look at art, haute couture or most significantly, jobs. Nowadays, the actual worth of people themselves seems to be determined by their financial status. It is no wonder people seek solace in religion, alcohol or gambling. In a society that rewards the seemingly lucky, as opposed to the deserved, one that esteems commodity over quality, people need reassurance that they are of value and that their lives are worth living. Perhaps that was why even my friend and I paid for a fortune.

Later that night we caught a train to Roppongi. The connecting subway from Shinjuku was full of young people heading to the clubs in the party capital. I got a couple of emails from a friend of mine who was trying to convince us to join him at Grace. He is a teacher in Okinawa. I met him at the training in London back in March. My friend was pregnant though, so we opted to join the open air countdown party at Tokyo tower. We jumped in a taxi. The seats were covered in white lace and driver wws wearing pristine white gloves. The traffic was very congested and by 11:40 we still hadn't arrived at the tower, so at the next traffic lights we gave a handful of change to the cabbie and walked the rest of the way.

There were several thousand people lingering at the base of the Eiffel tower lookalike. We overheard a Japanese guy asking a group of Russian girls in yellow Pikachu costumes if there was going to be fireworks. I guess no-one really knew what was going on. I was dismayed to realise that in the rush I had forgotten to buy booze. In the time it took to speak to my parents very briefly on the phone and half heartedly buy a bottle of diet coke from a vending machine (no drink somehow being worse than a soft drink, just) everyone had started running to the north side of the tower. Looking up, we searched for a clock. There was no clock. Everyone was staring up at the tower. What was going to happen? Someone started the countdown. "Ten, nine, eight..." We joined in. On "ONE" a screen displaying '2007' flickered on and that, well, was it! No fireworks, nothing. We all cheered of course and we were joined by three very genki Japanese lads who were shouting "I'm no plan, I'm no plan - let's party!"

We walked back into the centre. It reminded me of dear old Hastings on a Friday night. There is nothing like a horde of drunken, rowdy western blokes to add atmosphere. Actually there was a real mix of nationalities here: Brits, Indians, Americans, Jamaicans, Turks.... It is not something you see in Japan very often, but Roppongi is a very multi-cultural district. The Japanese say it is not Japan. We stood about people watching and I knocked back a couple of rough tequila shots that a club promoter was distributing.

We ended up in a busy coffee shop and drank lattes and watched all the drunks on the street below. This was my first new years abroad. It is funny how things never go quite to plan but somehow it was a good night. We had a real laugh despite the horribly long and cold journey back to Toyoda. It was 3am when we descended to the subway. People were asleep on the platform. We had to change at Shinjuku and our connection was a 20 minute wait so we kept ourselves warm by huddling in an all-night sandwich bar. After standing most of the way back on the slowest train ever, we finally got home at about 5am. One good thing about it all was the absence of a hangover the next morning, or rather afternoon, which was when we woke up.

Farewell 2006. It has been good. I just wonder what the following year has in store? A trip to Vegas maybe - try my luck.