Meiji Madness

Shrines and Temples in Tokyo are like Tesco Expresses in the UK, on every corner and always busy. And just like Tesco Expresses, everytime you walk past one you feel compelled you go inside for a look around. Even though you know exactly what’s going to be there, the same as what was in the 7 you went in the week before; curious foreigners, a teenage girl selling keyrings and enough wooden structures to rebuild the Amazon

What they say about having too much of a good thing certainly rings true for temples and shrines. The curiousity you feel when you spot your first roadside shrine and the excitment at walking through your first torii gate, an impressive wooden archway at the entrance of the shrine, soon turns somewhat non-chalent. There’s only so much you can take of one thing before the shine starts to wear off, which of course is a shame but just as expected. That is until you find the time to visit the Meiji Shrine. One of the biggest and most popular shrine in Tokyo, it is completely surrounded by its own forest, hidden away from the typical Tokyo traps.

The walk from the first torii gate to the actual shrine gates takes about 10 minutes. Not for nothing though, the trees and windy pathways that disappear into the forest create an almost magical atmosphere which come to a sudden stop when you’re flanked by a wall of sake barrels on one side and a wall of French wine barrels on the other. Donated by France at the turn of the 20th Century to welcome Japan into the ‘modern world.’ Because obviously, only Westerners can declare what is and isn’t civilised and modern.

The courtyard to the shrine is guarded by two very large and very thick wooden doors. You walk through praying you don’t trip up in front of the wardens, in their blue and white uniforms, and the elderly women dressed in beautiful kiminos and wooden sandels. To the left, a wall adorned with beautifully painted kanji characters. Nonsense to us non-reading kanji folk but fascinating to look at nonetheless. A huge tree stands slap bang in the middle with a fence circling around the bottom half of the trunk, wishes, hopes and prayers are written in every language imagineable and hung on the wall.

 

If you’re lucky you’ll catch a glimsp of a bride fashioning a floral kimono and a poor teenage boy walking beside her, his hand aching from holding the parasol above her. Like a royal, she’ll walk throught the yard, parting the crowd and followed by a procession of family and guests. With nowhere else to go you just stand in awe as she saunters by. A drum metres tall is hit and it’s as if the shrine was built to contain sound. The deafening bang reverberates around the courtyard and travels up, through the trees before it finally echoes away into the sky.

Even though it’s a tourist attraction for foreigners and tourists alike, it’s still a working shrine with everyday Tokyoites going about their business, praying, contemplating and escaping the world. Luckily, there are instructions on how you should pray. Throw some coins into the donation box, clap twice, bow twice, make a wish and bow once more. Nothing livens up a tranquil Sunday morning visit to a shrine more, than a group of towering German men taking a break from their stag-do tomfoolery, clapping out of beat with each other and awkwardly nodding their heads.