Japan Highlights: Most Memorable Experience in Tokyo

A few have asked me to name my top experiences from my trip. To answer their question and also retain the fondest memories from my recent travels, I'm starting a series to share my favorite places in Tokyo, Kyoto, and Taipei (Osaka was fun, and I definitely want to return, but I don't think there was anything as noteworthy in comparison to the other destinations.).

My favorite part of my time in Tokyo was the time I spent in Asakusa District and Sensoji. Sensoji is one of my bucket list items. I have been dreaming of this shrine, with its iconic red lantern, for almost a decade. I wanted so badly to see Sensoji without understanding its significance. I just knew it was a famous historic site in Tokyo and that many tourists from all over the world flocked to this shrine at all times of the year. Despite not knowing much about Sensoji, there was something very striking about the main gate and, of course, the large paper lantern that drew me to it.

It wasn't until I booked my plane ticket, though, that I started to learn more about the history of Tokyo's oldest temple. In the 7th century, two fishermen found a statue of Kannon or the Goddess of Mercy in the Sumida River. They brought the statue back with them to their village, where the village chief built a small temple to enshrine the statue. This modest temple eventually grew into a larger complex, thrived through the centuries, and then suffered damage during World War II. After the war, it was rebuilt, and the temple became a symbol of rebirth and peace. The sacred statue is supposedly still housed within the temple, but unavailable for viewing by the public.

I love Sensoji's story, but more than anything else, I love its atmosphere. Sensoji and the surrounding neighborhood have a timelessness and vibrancy that can't seem to be found anywhere else in Tokyo. Meiji Jingu, an equally popular tourist site, which I didn't get to visit, seems to evoke stillness and purity. And it appears from pictures to be a quiet place for contemplation.

On the other hand, Sensoji, while no doubt very holy, teems with activity and life. I felt a sense of exhilaration as I walked down Nakamise-dori, the colorful, shop-filled street leading to the temple. The incense, the devout visitors praying, the hordes of tourists pouring past the temple gates--all this energy made me feel like I was closer to the heavens, as cheesy as that sounds, and also made it seem like I had traveled back in time to ancient Japan. This energy was magnetic, contagious, and magical. Sensoji provided welcome sensory overload.

I found the more modern parts of Tokyo to be exciting and enjoyable, but I could close my eyes and reopen them to imagine that I was in any other international city. Sensoji and the Asakusa area felt distinctly Japanese, very special. Unlike the Zen, silent shrines of Kyoto, Sensoji was a place of worship that had a less solemn atmosphere and seemed to invite festivities and merrymaking (not necessarily drinking but more like eating and shopping). By the end of my visit, I felt uplifted and even more cheerful than when I had entered.

I'm so glad I got to check this one off the list. Sensoji surpassed my expectations and greatly impressed me with its grandeur. I also got to know the Asakusa district and to learn more about interesting features of the temple, like the giant zori, or sandals hanging from one side of a temple gate. There's also a serene garden to the side of the shrine with a lovely koi fish pond, very picturesque.

Sensoji and Asakusa offer glimpses of what life in the olden days was like, retain an unspoiled charm, and provide visitors with the opportunity to sample uniquely Japanese snacks, like taiyaki, or fish-shaped cake stuffed with red bean paste. For these reasons, visiting this area is my most memorable Tokyo experience, an experience that I would highly recommend to all travelers, regardless of their level of interest in history, religion, and/or architecture.

Shameful Confessions

I learned a few things about myself during my trip to Japan and Taiwan. Two things I'm not so proud of: 1) I'm not really ready to try night market food...yet... and 2) I can't do squat toilets. Maybe neither of these come as a surprise lol.

Taiwan is a foodie's paradise...if you are willing to do without some creature comforts. Sure, good and even great food can be found in pristine, not necessarily fine dining, establishments. However, the best of the best dishes come from very humble places, places where your bowls and utensils might be washed quickly in a soapy tub and then rinsed in an identical water-filled tub next to it. You might be seated on nothing more than a folding stool, very closely to random strangers. Oftentimes, the food, whether freshly prepared dishes or ingredients, might be laying out on an open table, where flies, despite preventative measures, might still hang out. As unappetizing as these conditions might sound, this is where the magic happens. All the wonderful street foods Taiwan is known for--oyster omelet, lu rou fan (braised pork on rice), hot star large fried chicken, niu rou mian (beef noodle soup), to name a few--can be found at hawker stalls, holes-in-the-wall, and other businesses where sanitation might be questionable.

I couldn't get past some of these "features." Here's a look at my reaction to Shilin Night Market, the most famous night market in Taiwan:

You're thinking, "What's wrong with this girl? Look at all that awesome food!"

While Tom was running around like a kid in a candy store, I was going, "Oooh, what's that smell?" or noticing, more than anything else, the trash disposal guy wheeling a huge garbage can around super closely to a few food stands and seemingly oblivious that he was about to bump into a few marketgoers. I grew up around Eden Center, when it wasn't so nice, dingy Asian supermarkets, and visited developing countries with food stalls and other places where hygiene didn't seem too important, but for some reason Taiwan's night markets and everyday, family restaurants had me defeated.

What a wimp. I am truly sorry I couldn't stop being so precious. But it is what it is. I got my soup dumplings from Din Tai Fung. I got bubble tea from Taipei 101's food court. And I managed to eat a whole oyster omelet from a popular vendor in Shilin's basement food court. I can say that I've experienced Taipei's exciting food scene, but not wholly. Next time I'm coming back tougher, rawrrrrrr!!!

Taipei is an ultra modern city with many beautiful buildings, super efficient and clean metro system, numerous fashion centers, and a mostly middle and upper-middle class population. However, despite its wealth and modernity, Taipei's residents aren't snobs about where they get their food. They just want good food, wherever it can be found. I saw so many impeccably dressed ladies and businessmen hunched over noodle bowls on low stools, their meals coming from visible kitchens that looked like they hadn't been cleaned since the beginning of time. Good food is good food. A lesson learned and to be practiced when I visit Taipei or any other area with great night markets and street food.

Look at what my less squeamish husband tried and enjoyed: steam-fried beef bun.

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Warning: graphic material ahead.

Now, onto squat toilets. These holes in the ground, more or less, are fairly common in most Asian countries. Japan, known for its interesting take on so-called Western toilets (bidet, washlet, music-playing...), still has many squat toilets in public spaces, especially temples and train stations. Supposedly, squat toilets are still popular with people because they're considered more hygienic (you don't touch anything) and squatting strengthens all the muscles in the neither regions. I can squat, I'm Asian! But apparently, I can't squat to pee into a hole in the ground. First, I just can't get over the stench of urine. Also, we ladies, we have a splashing problem, too, apparently. And the proximity to my own waste....Anyway, I used a squat toilet once. And I was wearing a yukata, or Japanese casual summer garment similar to a kimono, which probably was the best option in that type of clothing. So I thought it would be a piece of cake. When time came, I lifted my "skirt," and did what others ladies did. But, oh, the horror, the remnants of what the last person had deposited into the porcelain bowl still seemed to be there, slightly. And there was an overpowering, foul odor. Oh, God help me. I came out from the restroom looking "traumatized" and I probably was. After that experience, I always sought out the toilet-shaped symbol in front of stall doors. I watched other bathroom users in fascination as they nonchalantly went inside the squat toilet stalls. Not to say I completely get Japanese Western toilets either. In all their wizardry, they created commodes that do more than just hold waste, heck they even sing to cover up your embarrassing sounds. But at the end of the day, a toilet is just a toilet. It should be clean, but it doesn't necessarily need all the bells and whistles. I don't want to be there longer than I need to, just so I can explore what buttons 1,2, and 3 do. It's okay. I know I'm definitely a minority when it comes to my sentiments towards both the more old-school and modern toilets.

I guess there are some commonalities between my two fears: anxiety over cleanliness, bodily functions, and odors.

Fears are to be conquered! I may never get over my disgust of durian and stinky tofu, but I hope to be able to eat, without hesitation, all sorts of street foods and to pop a squat like a pro. Always next time...