As the bus rumbles down the road, I find myself glancing out the window again. It’s nice and sunny today, and I think of the hot, swampy air I’ll be facing once we arrive at the market. I’m already thinking back to the aquarium we just left, with the air conditioning and coolness of the water.
The Nakamise Shopping Street would be much different, with the bright, warm stalls, and an overwhelming amount of red. Much of the color would come from the Sensoji Temple, which proudly stands at the far end of the market. I’ve already been taking so many pictures on this trip, and images of the temple should contrast nicely with the penguins and eels that have already found their home in my camera roll.
Though the pictures will be cool, I’m mostly looking forward to the actual shopping at the market. After all, we were told that this would be the best place to get souvenirs. My attention wanders from the window to the large bag next to me, full of the things I’ve already collected from the day out. Among the pamphlets and a penguin pencil bag is my newest prized possession, a giant stuffed eel. I imagine the bag full with all the other things I’ll be getting.
Maybe I’ll buy a ninja star. I heard some of the other kids talking about getting one of those. Or should I get some snacks? I bet there would be some crazy good street food here, different from anything else we’ve had. As the images of various treats on sticks float through my mind, my train of thought is interrupted.
“Alright everyone, we’re here! We’ll have about an hour before the bus comes back to pick us up, so make sure to make good use of your time. Feel free to leave your other things in here, since the same bus will be coming back to get us. Have fun you guys!”
I practically jump out of my seat, but I stop myself from trampling over the people in front of me. I bid goodbye to my stuffed eel, and walk painfully slowly behind my fellow students out of the bus. As I adjust to the bright sunlight, the beautifully chaotic sight of the street comes into view.
Hordes of people hurry around from stall to stall, like a school of fish frantically darting around a reef. My group members begin dispersing as they see stalls that interest them, and I start thinking about where I should go.
What should I even start with? Should I get food now, and snack while I look for souvenirs? Or should I buy as much as I can now, then take some food to go once the bus comes back? When should I go take pictures of the temple? Should I buy things for me or my family members first?
As these thoughts battle in my head, my hand instinctively moves to my pocket to grab my wallet. I’m suddenly aware of the feeling of my hand against my pants, as opposed to the familiar smoothness I was expecting. My heart drops as I realize what must have happened.
I left my wallet on the bus.
I hurriedly look back where I just came from. Maybe it hasn’t left yet! I bet if I run back now I can still go grab it! As I turn, I realize it’s too late. The bus is happily making its way down the street, and I watch it until it’s completely out of sight. I feel my stomach sink.
How could I forget my wallet? Of all things, we’re here to shop, and I left behind the one thing I need. The humid air is already taking an effect on me, and the discomfort from the heat just makes me feel worse. Frantically, I feel for my phone in my other pocket, and let out a sigh of relief.
At least I’ll still be able to take pictures.
I push my way through the market, involuntarily taking in the sights of the stalls. About halfway to the temple at the end of the street, I happen to glance to my right. A few of my fellow group members huddle around one stall in particular, and I see what they’re there for. Ninja stars. I quickly turn my focus back on the temple.
Wow, I can tell why this place is so famous.
Even when I was exiting the bus, I was struck by the sight of the Sensoji Temple overlooking the street. The first thing I noticed was the traditional architecture of the building, from the large, elongated roof that reflected the blinding sun, to the bright red and hints of turquoise that engulfed it.
As I draw closer, my attention shifts to the lantern at the center of it. Much larger than any person, the red lantern is reminiscent of a small hot air balloon, hanging in the center like a tropical bird in an ornate cage. As with every part of this street, there are people milling about everywhere, taking pictures of and with the lantern. Watching the wandering groups, I notice the amount of people surrounding the parts of the temple away from the lantern, and I see the statues for the first time.
On each side of the temple is a large statue, trapped behind what looks like a turquoise fence. People pose and snap photos in front of each one.
This is the perfect place to get some pictures.
I wait for an opening between groups, and weasel my way in for the shot. As I go to position my phone, I am simply in awe of the statues. The turquoise of the fence draws in your eyes, but it takes some time to adjust and really look at the details in the art. While the sun causes the colors surrounding them to be bright and noticeable, the statues themselves are left in the shadows of the roof, forcing you to really get close and squint.
I can’t help but feel like these are examples of true artistry, not only because of the intricate details and work put into them, but also because of the effort the viewer has to go through to observe their beauty. I take a couple pictures, and back away to look at them.
As the next group of people go to strike their poses, I frown at my phone. While the pictures are most definitely of the statues, and even the lantern, they capture none of their magic. The actual objects in front of me were bathed in awe and mystery from their size and detail, but my phone was unable to elicit that same feeling.
A knot begins to form in my stomach. I take a look back at the street with its many stalls. I can even see some of my group members here and there, some of them already holding bags. I turn to the temple, with the bright, blazing lantern, and look back at my phone. I sigh, turn it off, and as I’m slipping it back into my pocket, I hear someone calling out to me.
“Hey Mary! Are you not going to buy anything?” calls one of my group leaders.
“I sort of left my wallet on the bus…” I can tell from her face that she feels bad. “But it’s totally fine! I can just walk around the temple and take pictures.”
“Would you at least like to get your fortune? It’s sort of a tradition at places like these.”
“That sounds great.”
She leads me to the area where you draw your fortune, and I find myself looking around at the various paintings across the ceilings, along with the ornate decorations spattered around the walls. I’d really love to take some pictures of these. I pause to take out my phone, and my group leader stops to wait for me. As she waits, I see her simply observing the nearby paintings, and I find myself looking at them as well. Phone in hand, I look at the difference between what I can see through my camera app and my own eyes. It’s just like the statues and lantern.
“Aren’t these just beautiful?” my group leader asks.
“They really are,” I smile, still looking at the decorations.
“Were you not going to take any pictures of them? There’s no rush.”
“Honestly, I think I’m good.”
She simply smiles back at me, and we continue on our way. Soon, we enter the area with the fortunes, and she turns to me again.
“So all you have to do is draw one of those sticks, then draw one of the papers from the box that has the same kanji as is written on it. Just put 100 yen in that box over there.”
“Wait, 100 yen? But I don’t have my wallet.”
“Oh, you don’t even have just a few coins?”
I shake my head.
Before my group leader could respond, one of the other students we were with approaches. Though we’d had a number of short meetings before the trip, I had never become close to any of the other kids in my group. I might have had a couple short conversations with this guy, but not any more than anyone else.
“I’m about to get my fortune too, I could just cover you,” he says.
“Oh no you definitely don’t have to do that. I can just keep walking around and looking at things, it’s chill.”
“No really, it’s just a couple of yen. I’m not sure what else I’d use it on anyway. And you don’t have to worry about paying me back.”
“Are you sure that’s okay?”
“Totally.”
I watch as he inserts an extra coin into the box, and I find myself being unable to move for a few seconds. He really didn’t have to do that. Eventually, I go to pull my stick. Though I don’t understand the kanji written on it, my group leader helps me to find the matching box.
The fortune, or Omikuji, is written using an entire small sheet of paper, and although it’s all in Japanese, there is a small English translation included that gives the main idea. They range from very bad to great fortune, with some variations in between. If you’re unlucky enough to draw a bad fortune, it’s common to fold up your paper and tie it to a nearby tree or fence, symbolically attaching the fortune to it instead of you. Otherwise, you can keep it.
Looking at my fortune, I sort of laugh to myself.
I glance at the fence full of all the bad fortunes, and put my own paper in my pocket. I find my attention wandering back to the decorations of the temple, and I catch a glance of the rest of the street through a doorway. Although the stalls aren’t nearly as old as the building I currently stand in, I can see the inspiration in the way they’re built. I almost want to take a picture.
Soon, we’re told to start gathering together again to board the bus, and I find myself walking back through the market. Looking at the stalls, I feel like I truly appreciate them for the first time. The bright colors of the products, the work that was put into the displays, as well as everyone walking around, going about their business. I quickly find the other members of my group, and we board the bus.
As I find my seat, I suddenly remember my earlier predicament. Rummaging through my bag, I see the familiar gloss of my wallet, tucked nicely between a few pamphlets and my stuffed eel. I sigh in relief, and the bus begins to rumble away from the market. I think about looking back at the photos I’d taken, but find myself, instead, looking at my fortune again. It seems to stare right back at me.
I smile, and gently place it into my bag.
Author
