Zōjō-ji

Day Four of Tokyo:

Did you know that Ulysses S. Grant went to Japan once? I didn't.

But let me back up here.

This was my final day in Tokyo. Now that the girls were gone, I was back to sleeping in a capsule hotel...and since Miss H had taken my huge rolling suitcase back to Korea with her, I was traveling more lightly. That meant I could stuff all my crap into the provided lockers and have a restful night's sleep. It did me a world of good, and I arose on the morning of August 3 refreshed and ready for an expedition to Roppongi.

(I do recommend the First Inn Kyobashi to anyone wanting to stay in a capsule hotel; just don't go in the height of summer like I did. The floors can get a bit warm, and while there are both wall-mounted and portable A/C units, they might not reach you or work particularly well. So either bring a fan you can plug in or go in autumn sometime when the weather's milder, and the steamy bathroom on the first floor will feel more equable.)

So far in Tokyo, I had hit most of the central neighborhoods: Asakusa, Ueno, Akibahara, Shibuya. I skipped Odaiba, Ikebukuro, and Shinjuku because they were all rather remote and out of the way. I had wanted to see some things in Shinjuku, but I nixed them because of the time involved. I had overestimated how long it would take to see the stuff on my grand to-do list and ultimately I had to make some cuts. So I elected to skip the Japanese Sword Museum and some other parks and museums on my itinerary. Instead, I chose to focus on famous landmarks, picturesque temples, and any other points of interest.

Today was the day I hit my last neighborhood: Roppongi. It's on the southwest side of town. It has, or had, a seedy reputation. This is where U.S. servicemen would go to blow off steam during the postwar occupation, if you know what I mean. Nowadays they're trying to clean the place up: shopping centers such as Roppongi Hills and glitzy apartment complexes are attracting upscale movers, and the sultrier bits are getting swept under the rug.

But I didn't give a darn about that. Roppongi had two things I was interested in: Tokyo Tower and Zōjō-ji.

The main hall (see below) with Tokyo Tower in the background.

Zōjō-ji, the first temple I saw in Japan, was much like any Buddhist temple I had seen in Korea...except larger. The main temple hall was downright enormous. Later I found out why: the temple's main claim to fame is that it was the personal temple of the Tokugawa family. In case you're not up on your Japanese history, the Tokugawa shogunate was the last one to rule over Japan before the Meiji Restoration (the period between 1868 and 1912 that saw imperial rule restored to the emperor and a major social and technological overhaul of Japanese society). They were powerful people, the Tokugawas. The shogun, a fellow named Ieyasu, had a lot of clout. Zōjō-ji had originally been built in the Chiyoda area of town (where the Imperial Palace stands) but Ieyasu had it moved, first to Hibiya (home of the Godzilla statue) and then to its current location. It was Ieyasu who had the ginormous hall in the following picture built so he and his family could have a suitably grand place to worship.

See the ladies there in yukata at the top of the stairs?

You wanna know how big a deal Tokugawa Ieyasu was? I'll tell you. Blogger's spell-checker actually recognizes his name. That's how much weight he swings.

Anyway, like most stuff in Tokyo, Zōjō-ji was badly damaged during World War II (we may have accidentally sort of dropped a few fire bombs on it, whoopsie) but was lovingly restored.

Zōjō-ji has some other notable features, but I'll get to them in a minute. First I have a funny story for you.

Now, I'd done extensive research on how to pray at a Buddhist temple in Japan. And when I say "extensive research" I mean that I paid close attention whenever a character in an anime I was watching did it. There seemed to be certain steps to it. First, toss a coin into a collection box with a slatted cover; this is your "offering" to the gods (and the temple's tithe). Second, ring the bell. This is so the heavens can hear you, sort of like ringing a cosmic doorbell or something. Then you pray, hands folded, eyes closed. After that, if you so desire, you can clap your hands a couple times: again to make sure the gods heard you.

The incense and burner are in front, the slatted offering box behind. Inside the temple there wasn't much going on; just a couple of monks pottering about and a great gigantic Amida Buddha with all the trappings behind them. I didn't take a picture because there was a sign saying not to when there was a ceremony going on.

 At Zōjō-ji, there was one more step: there was no bell to ring, so visitors plucked some incense flakes from a bowl and sprinkled them on hot coals, sending oily plumes of aromatic smoke upward into the hazy air. Guess the gods will smell the prayers coming.

So I done it. I flipped a 100-yen coin (one U.S. dollar; I was serious) into the box, sprinkled the incense, prayed for Miss H's future happiness with me, clapped my hands, and left.

Now, that was all well and good. But I came into Zōjō-ji from the side entrance. If I'd come through the front gate, I'd have remembered to purify my hands at the basin there before entering the temple grounds and praying. So what the gods got was a dirty, smelly, grimy prayer only slightly gussied up by the incense. Rats. I did it wrong. Well, hopefully there'd be time to rectify that mistake.

Here are some other shots from around the temple grounds:

These little guys are called Jizō, and they protect children. The offerings of flowers and pinwheels you see here are, in the case of Zōjō-ji, offerings to unborn children, whether miscarried, aborted or stillborn, to help usher them to the afterlife. Small stones placed near the Jizō help to ease the trials and tribulations of the journey.

I just adore the work of their landscaper...

Close-up of a Jizō.

 

This is one of Zōjō-ji's other claims to fame: the cemetery of six of the 15 Tokugawa shoguns. 

I have no idea who this feller is, but he sure earned himself a nice plot.

I was on my way out toward the main gate when I spotted this sign.

So I stepped back and got this shot. Dang. Big tree. And planted by old Unconditional Surrender Grant himself. I had no idea Ulysses S. Grant went to Japan, did you?

The main gate, called Sangedatsu, I believe.

And that was that! I bought myself a snack of onigiri (rice balls) at a nearby convenience store and sat in the park to eat them as the pigeons flocked all around me. Then I got up, walked down the narrow lane running along the temple's north side, and back to...

...TOKYO TOWER! [duh duh dunnn...]

(But more about that next time.)