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.
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