When spring is in the air in Japan, it’s time for matsuri (Shinto festivals) and great celebration. And no better place to witness this than Asakusa, the heart of Shitamachi (literally “low city”, referring to its location on the banks of the Sumida River and subsequent low elevation to the rest of Tokyo).

This is old Tokyo, and as we walk out of the underground station, we are immediately immersed in a more traditionally Japanese atmosphere. During the popular Sanja Matsuri in May, the roads are closed from dawn till evening and celebrants throng the town.

Alas, we are too early for the Sanja Matsuri but one could believe it has already started. They may not be celebrating (yet) but the masses are certainly thronging. We say a prayer beneath our breaths and hold each other’s hands tightly; there’s nothing more embarrassing than getting lost at a tourist attraction, then becoming one ourselves as we yell each other’s names in public.

Not that I have ever had any experience with this situation. Ahem.

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1. The Thunder Gate • Kaminarimon, Asakusa
It’s hard to miss the entrance. It’s where all the people are.

The Kaminarimon (雷門, “Thunder Gate”) is the outer entrance gate to the famous Sensō-ji Temple (金龍山浅草寺, Kinryū-zan Sensō-ji) and man, is it enormous! All us folks are like little beetles or ants scrambling helplessly over each other beneath its great shadow. Cameras of every size and colour leap skywards, over a sea of anonymous heads, and snap away. This must be where the stereotypical Japanese tourist was born for we don’t see many other foreigners aside from us.

From the middle of the gate hangs a giant red chōchin lantern. The characters painted on the front and the back are different, and I muse that they might be prayers of hope and good fortune for the devout as they enter and leave the temple grounds.

Devil tells me they are just the two names of the gate. Hmm. I really should stop asking for translations – they tend to be so much less romantic.

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On either side of the chōchin, stands a guardian statue – the Shinto gods Fūjin and Raijin, Devil tells me, Fūjin lording over the winds and Raijin of thunder and lightning.

Something like our Chinese wuxia comic, Fung Wan (風雲, or “Wind and Cloud”), I say. Except, you know, Chinese, not Japanese. And not gods. And clouds, not thunder and lightning. And…

At this point Devil stops rolling his eyes and just walks away from me.

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2. The Street of A Hundred Stalls • Nakamise-dōri
Through the Thunder Gate, we enter and walk into the Street of a Hundred Stalls.

Actually, it might just be about 89 stalls that line up on both sides of the Nakamise-dōri (仲見世通り or Nakamise Shopping Street), but it looks like a hundred to me. Certainly the shoppers and worshippers thronging the street number in the hundreds, if that helps.

We ignore the stalls selling souvenirs — from clothes such as gimmicky tourist T-shirts or the more traditional yukata, kimono and other robes, to the more obscure like Buddhist scrolls and ukiyo-e (woodblock prints), and a plethora of Ultraman and Godzilla toys, key-chains and figurines. Instead, being true-blue Malaysians, we go straight for the makan.

Food, glorious, food! (As usual lah.)

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We try a different sort of satay, skewers of millet dumplings called kibidango. Made like mochi (rice cakes) but instead of rice they use millet and cover them with kinako (powdered soy bean). Soft and a sunny spring morning seduction these are.

We watch in greedy fascination as the master biscuit-makers go to work at creating osenbei or rice crackers before our very eyes – mixing the ingredients, shaping the crackers, brushing them with a light coating of mirrin, wrapping some with seaweed, before grilling them over charcoal.

It smells like waking up on a late Sunday morning to warm toast and the perfection of a lazy day with nothing to do ahead. Yums.

And to cool down our ravenous appetites, we pamper our palates with candied fruits dunked in clear syrup and “grilled” over a big block of ice. Well, until the next stall and whatever sweet or savoury surpise they have in store for us, that is.

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3. The Gate of Good Fortunes • Hōzōmon, Asakusa
Many, many stalls later, our bellies full and happy, we reach the Hōzōmon (宝蔵門, “Treasure-House Gate”) the second of the large gates which introduce us to the Sensō-ji Temple, dedicated to the Bodhisattva Kannon (or the Goddess of Mercy). Instead of a single lantern like the Kaminarimon, this inner gate houses three lanterns – a larger red chōchin in the middle, and two smaller black-and-gold lanterns, guarded by Niō, the guardian deity of the Buddha.

There is an oasis of serenity just next to the more rowdy Sensō-ji and the more distant five-storied pagoda — the beautiful zen-like garden of the Dempoin Temple, which unfortunately isn’t open to the public anymore. There is a sign stating “No Photography”, which means, naturally, everyone is lining up against the gate taking pictures of the ageing architecture and the fresh sakura blooming.

Including yours truly, though I get a scolding from the Devil for doing so. Yup, a regular law-breaker, I am.

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It’s late morning now and we are joined by my Japanese friend Satomi, whom I have not met in nearly ten years, since our days of university-level debating. It’s like meeting a part of your own story again, and you realise what magic true friendship may have, time may never erase or dull its sheen.

She proves to be an illuminating guide to Tokyo, having lived here for over a decade, and begins by explaining the process of Omikuji (おみくじ), the screens of folded paper fortunes we have seen at other Buddhist temples and Shinto shrines earlier. Meaning literally “sacred lottery”, omikuji is received first by making a small offering (a suggested donation of 100 yen here at Sensō-ji) and then shaking labelled sticks from the metal containers provided.

This isn’t too different from how we do it at Chinese temples, and after, we usually will consult the oracle or fortune-teller for a reading, hopefully a good one. Here, things are more “automated” as we can retrieve a fortune sheet from one of 100 drawers according to the number on our stick, hoping for the resulting fortune to be good.

Devil gets the number 13, which may be unlucky in the Western world, but turns out to the “Very Best Fortune” promising promotions, longevity and loads of good sex. (Well, I made up the last bit, but it sure ain’t too hard to ensure, ahem.)

For those who get less-than-stellar readings, there is always a recourse — simply fold up one’s troubles and breathe a prayer for improvement as one ties it on the rows of poor fortunes already tied and released.

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4. Tea & Ceremony • Kinryū-zan Sensōji
Young and old, the ladies wait. Maidens, mothers and grandmamas, they chat and they nod and they wait.

A tea ceremony is not an event to be rushed. After all, there are centuries of decorum and art to be followed here, every step a brief, momentous observation, a tradition. The sakura fall lightly from above their heads. They are beautiful, sitting in rows in their kimonos and their stockinged feet, almost oblivious to the stares of a hundred tourists with flash photography and DSLR cameras.

Then the little girl comes in. She kneels, bows, holds the teapot carefully, slowly, pours. Small servings of mochi is offered to each lady. A bow of mutual respect, a small bite and an even smaller, polite smile.

Tea and ceremony. No rush, just grace and contemplation.

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5. Butterflies and Moths • Kinryū-zan Sensōji
Is this kabuki, or is the dance of stately geishas?

We cannot tell, but we wait patiently with the other visitors outside the temple grounds as the dancers wait also for the auspicious hour, fanning themselves delicately with fans adorned with fragrant calligraphy and parasols circled with cherry blossoms.

Soon, the hour arrives and they come on stage, the three of them, bowing and curtsying elegantly as the ever-graceful Japanese do. And they dance.

And oh! how do they dance!

Fluttering like butterflies, rejuvenated by the coming of spring. Falling like moths dying under the flame of treacherous, faithless lovers. Dancing and dancing. Fan and fold. Butterflies and moths.

We are simply mesmerised. We sit and watch without words, for none is needed. The looks of wonder and attention on our faces are all that is needed, the meagre price we pay for their art and their talent and their beautiful movements.

I tell you, Zhang Zi-yi has got nothing on these ladies.

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6. The Girl Called Spring • Hanayashiki, Asakusa
Here, this girl called Spring
Smiles like a Sunday morning
Like cherry blossoms.

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Copyright © 2010 Kenny Mah Ying Fye.

~ the Tokyo, Tokyo series ~
      Prologue • Bye Bye Sakura
      Part 1 • All You Can Eat Ameyoko
      Part 2 • Uniquely Ueno
      Part 3 • Okachimachi: The Best Sushi in Tokyo
      Part 4 • Tsukiji: The Biggest Fish Market in the World
      Part 5 • The Giant Lanterns of Asakusa, or The Girl Called Spring
      Part 6 • Yanaka Cemetery: A Picnic with the Departed
      Part 7 • Leonardo DiCaprio & the Gangs of Ginza
      Part 8 • A Match Made in Meiji
      Part 9 • Harajuku Girls in Love
      Part 10 • Heavenly Hakone
      Part 11 • Where Did Mt. Fuji Go?
      Part 12 • Beautiful Boy Ramen
      Part 13 • Ghibli Museum: Spirited Away by Princess Mononoke
      Part 14 • How We Got Beaten Up by Bruce Lee at Roppongi Hills       Part 15 • Shinjuku Gyoen
      Epilogue • The Last Meal in Tokyo