"My Asakusa" - Sadako Sawamura & Me

Asakusa (pronounced “Ah-sack-sah”) is probably one of the districts best known to foreign visitors to Tokyo. It is very tourist friendly. And it has some stunning landmarks which are a real draw for visitors from overseas, and being situated at the end of the Ginza Metro line makes it easily accessible, so it’s no wonder that many first time visitors to Tokyo start off here. It provides a relaxed and comforting welcome, the perfect homely introduction to an enormous and otherwise rather beguiling modern metropolis.

Asakusa Temple, by Shiro Kasamatsu

When I first began visiting Tokyo in the autumn of 2003, I too naturally seemed to gravitate there. For me, as for many foreign visitors, the main attractions were the Kaminari Mon (Thunder Gate) and Senso-ji, a large Buddhist temple, each characterised by enormous paper lanterns, and the street lined with market stalls that connect the two. This market street, known as Nakamise, along with the Gate and the Temple, dates back to the Edo period, when the city was the seat of the Tokugawa Shoguns – the chief samurai lords who ruled Japan in lieu of the Emperor, who was then living in Kyoto. There are many famous scenes of Asakusa, with Senso-ji and the Nakamise market street, depicted in all seasons; rendered in the eponymous ‘floating world’-style known in Japanese as ukiyo-e, and often done by many of Japan’s most famous artists. My favourites, mostly by Ando Hiroshige, are those showing Asakusa deep in the drifts of winter snow. 

Senso-ji - Asakusa, by Ando Hiroshige

Asakusa, by Hasui Kawase

To my eye the whiteness of the snow and the deep indigo blue of the sky seems to perfectly compliment the red painted timbers of Senso-ji and its distinctive pagoda. I’m not sure if the combination subconsciously suggests a winter Christmas scene to my mind or not, but I am sure the winter aspect resonates with me because I spent several weeks over the Christmas and New Year period of 2003-2004 haunting these streets, mostly on my own. During that time I got to know these backstreets like the proverbial back of my hand. I even found a lovely little, very foreigner friendly café there, at which I became I regular – returning to say ‘hello’ and always assured of a warm welcome on my regular trips back to Japan over the following couple of years. The café – Café Rest-Cuzn – is still there, but I think it has since moved a little further down the road from the days when I used to hang out there.

Senso-ji - Asakusa, by Ando Hiroshige

Asakusa was definitely a key part of how and why I fell in love with Japan and Tokyo in particular. And even though Tokyo is now (half) home to me, I rarely visit Asakusa these days. The last time I went there was a couple of years ago, and although much is still the same – the Kaminari Mon, Senso-ji, the old Edo Nakamise market, and the amusement park – Asakusa seemed different somehow. It felt as though the place has been tidied up a bit, and there’s a new tourist phenomenon which didn’t exist when I used to hang out there. This is the fad for overseas visitors to hire very colourful kimono and geta (stilted wooden sandals), with paper fans and umbrellas, in order to go for a wander round the streets near Senso-ji, like characters in Madame Butterfly. This activity seems to be most popular with young Korean and Chinese visitors, and it is rather amusing to watch as Western tourists often stop these kids and politely mime their requests to have their photos taken together, apparently thinking these foreign tourist kids are local Japanese. It seems to thrill the kids nonetheless, who often bow politely afterwards, and then, when safely a few yards away, burst out into fits of giggles!

Senso-ji, Asakusa - 2003

I guess for me Asakusa has become a kind of nostalgic postcard in my mind of those early days when I first began visiting Tokyo, never dreaming that the place would ever actually become somewhere I’d call home. And even though, for many native Tokyoites, Asakusa is a bit touristy and probably a place to avoid at all costs, especially at the weekend, it does retain a natsukashii (nostalgic) vibe of shitamachi (old town) Tokyo. It used to be a very working class area, famous for its theatres and cinemas, in my mind much like the old East End of London, with its Music Halls and Pubs. Perhaps the best summation of that sense of timeless warmth is perfectly distilled in the memoir, My Asakusa (Watashi no Asakusa), by the actress Sadako Sawamura, published in 1976. This book is a loosely chronological set of essays or pen-sketches in which Sawamura reminisces about her childhood growing up in the neighbourhood. It is one of my most favourite books about Japan.

Nakamise, Asakusa - 2003

Sadako Sawamura

Born in 1908 and passing away in 1996, Sawamura lived a very interesting life through some of Japan’s and particularly Tokyo’s most tumultuous years during the twentieth century. She broke with the conventions of her time very early-on in her life, pursuing an education when this wasn’t really the norm for young girls; then first working as a teacher before becoming an actress, and later getting involved with left-wing activism – for which she suffered during the height of Japan’s right-wing military-imperialist government’s time in power. In later decades though she was very much a well-loved and familiar face, the star of film and TV screens throughout the country. When she retired she lived out her last days in comfort in the town of Kamakura, not too far from Tokyo, but always thought of herself as an “Asakusa girl” to the last.

Nakamise, Asakusa - 2003

My Asakusa is a wonderfully evocative book, full of warmth and charm; it is characterised by a kind of understated whimsy which, in my opinion, is one of the finest hallmarks of the best Japanese film and literature. In that sense, to my mind at least, it has the same kind of feel to it as the recently popular Japanese film, Umimachi Diary (released in the UK as Our Little Sister), which coincidentally is set in Kamakura.

Sadako Sawamura in "When A Woman Ascends the Stairs" (1960)

I was recently reminded of Sawamura’s memoir, and my own reminiscences of my early visits to Asakusa, when I stumbled upon this old newsreel footage of Tokyo in 1915. From around halfway through there are several street scenes of the cinemas and theatres around Asakusa, as well as Senso-ji and the market stalls of Nakamise. It’s tempting to wonder if Sadako Sawamura or some of her siblings might be one among the small children watching the young girls juggling, who knows? – But one thing is for sure; nobody wearing kimono in this old film is a tourist visiting from overseas!

 Tokyo street scenes from 1913 & 1915

Asakusa, 2003

Asakusa, 2018