Garuda Indonesia Colours Magazine October 2014 | Page 116

114

Travel | Tokyo

A couple in traditional wedding attire take
a morning rickshaw ride along Denboin-dōri.
The view from Asakusa Culture Tourist
Information Centre across the Sumida
to Tokyo Sky Tree.

There are eateries
everywhere too: some
of the best food in the
city can be found
here – at some of
the tastiest prices.

vehicle’) was a relatively novel contraption,
patented by some local fellows who went on
to manufacture tens of thousands of them
for the local market and eventually for
export across Asia.
Today there are just a few hundred remaining
in all Japan, meaning that a puller can do
something his 19th-century counterparts
rarely had the opportunity to enjoy: find an
open stretch of Asakusa back lane in which
to switch from a gentle trot to a full hurtle –
and elicit some excited squeals from the
white-knuckled passengers. No wonder shafu
are also known as ‘rickshaw runners’.
The ride weaves through alleys and lanes,
passing countless little stores selling
traditional kimono and straw slippers,
handmade horsehair toothbrushes, luxurious
mochi sweets, photos of bygone Asakusa,
and Sensō-ji Temple snow globes. There
are eateries everywhere too: some of the
best food in the city can be found here –
at some of the tastiest prices.
There’s a snaking queue of grilled-eel
enthusiasts outside Koyanagi on Asakusachuo-dōri (as well as the unagi, they want its
yummy toriju chicken on rice and tamagoyaki
egg rolls). A little north on Hoppy-dōri,
izakaya café-bars fill the street with the

aromas of freshly grilled snacks called
kushikatsu and tempting stews using chicken
gizzard or melt-in-the-mouth beef skirt,
while over near the Sumida River, redcheeked punters stumble out of Kamiya Bar.
It’s a friendly Japanese–Western-style joint
that opened over 130 years ago, where
they’re still plying their signature alcoholic
concoction known as denki-bran or ‘electric
brandy’. No wonder some of the punters
look a little light-headed…
As the sun goes down the stalls along
Nakamise-dōri start to close. There are
still clusters of people around Hōzōmon
and, even though the main hall closed at
5pm, a long line of devotees (they’ve come
straight from the office) leads up to bolted
temple doors and an offertory chest.
Thrown donations clatter into the chest
as queuers pay their respects to the
unseen Kannon Bodhisattva.
At the same time, the sun throws its last
rays over the temple and the five-tiered
pagoda. It’s about then that the lights of
nearby restaurants and izakaya, traditional
theatres and ryokan start to burn brighter.
It has happened like that for hundreds
of years here, in this place where people
eat, sleep and pray.