2024.07.18
The Yaesu, Nihonbashi, and Kyobashi areas, home to Tokyo Station—the gateway to Japan—not only welcome many people but also maintain strong ties to the local community. A series of articles by the popular young essayist, Zettai ni Shuden wo Nogasanai Onna, offers insights into the city and its people.
When my friend casually said, “I wonder who on earth reads local PR magazines,” I quickly interrupted, “I’m reading them all.” I frequently check not only local PR magazines but also public bulletin boards in my neighborhood and attend local events that interest me. Naturally, shrine festivals are no exception.
Local festivals in my hometown used to be a depressing event for me because I couldn’t avoid running into school friends. On the other hand, festivals in Tokyo, where I have no old connections, give me a slightly strange feeling, as if I am visiting a festival while traveling, even though I now live in Tokyo.
This time, I am covering the Sanno Festival of Hie Shrine. It is one of the three major Edo festivals and is quite large in scale. The festivals I usually visit are small-scale events organized in residential areas. I have never been to a large festival in a big city, like the Sanno Festival.
On June 9, Chuo-dori Avenue, from in front of Tokyo Square Garden to Nihonbashi, will be closed to all traffic starting at noon for the parade of Sanno Festival downtown associations. Sixteen portable shrines from different town councils are lined up on the street, which is bustling with townspeople wearing hanten (short jackets) and festival spectators.
I wonder which group is larger here: those who come specifically for the Sanno Festival or those who just happen to pass by and watch.
I assume there are people visiting this area for work, those who are rushing to meet someone, and others who came here to shop. My impression of festivals in rural areas is that the entire town is filled with a festive atmosphere with people who come specifically for the event. In contrast, in this large city, I imagine there are mixed groups of people who happen to be in the area for various reasons.
An important person from the downtown association gives an opening speech. “Today is a perfect cloudy day….” However, because of a glitch in the speaker or something else, the speech is choppy and difficult to hear. The audience applauds the speech, even though it was inaudible. I thought it resembled the atmosphere of a school’s sports festival opening ceremony.
The neighborhood associations of Kayabacho 2, 3, and 1, Kabutocho, and Hacchobori 4-East line up in that order. Their vibrant lanterns mounted on long poles and portable shrines, accompanied by thousands of people, formed a slow parade down Chuo-dori Avenue, which is lined with numerous high-rise buildings.
The portable shrine carriers in the town councils include more than just local residents. For instance, around 70 local residents are part of the Himonocho Town Council, which includes the Yaesu 1-chome area and its surroundings. The remaining members primarily consist of employees from companies located in the area and restaurant owners. Other town councils also have a notable number of people wearing han-ten with company logos.
While young people wore new, crisp han-tens, older members in their middle or senior ages donned slightly faded and worn han-tens, which exuded the good old atmosphere of the local Edo community.
The portable shrines, carried by people with diverse connections to this area, proceeded down Chuo-dori Avenue and made a U-turn in the middle of the Nihonbashi Bridge.
“The skirmishes with the ujiko (shrine parishioners) of Kanda Myojin are the fun part.”
Fukawa-san, known as an elder, told me this while I was visiting him two days ago at the Himonocho Okariya, a temporary makeshift place used to display the portable shrines during the festival.
The midpoint of the Nihonbashi Bridge, spanning the Nihonbashi River, serves as the boundary between the ujiko areas for Hie Shrine for the Sanno Festival and Kanda Myojin Shrine for the Kanda Festival. In the middle of the bridge, the ujikos from the Sanno Festival and the Kanda Festival each wait for their portable shrine processions to make a U-turn. In the past, I heard that these ujikos used to have serious fights on the bridge.
I heard that the skirmish is still one of the most popular parts of this festival today. So, I arrived at Nihonbashi Bridge with plenty of time to spare before the portable shrine’s arrival, but the area was already packed with people. People carrying high-hanging lanterns labeled “Muromachi 1” and “Honmachi 1,” representing their respective town councils of Kanda Myojin Shrine, waited for their portable shrines to arrive, as if marking a clear boundary on the bridge. There were many spectators as well. These people did not just happen to be there. They were hardcore spectators, having secured their spots even before there was any sign that the portable shrines had arrived.
As more and more people arrived, the riverside, which should have been slightly cooler, became engulfed in sweltering heat.
“In the past, there was a lot of groundwater in this area, making it quite cool. There was also a canal running alongside the Ginza Line.”
I remember that when Fukawa-san spoke with such nostalgia, his profile resembled that of Yasunari Kawabata. This view was likely known only to those who have lived here for decades and call it their hometown, while spectators who traveled from various locations to see the festival were unaware of it.
A view of the Okariya in Himonocho
The bridge was getting so crowded that I could hardly move, and if the crowd kept growing at this rate, I realized I wouldn’t be able to see well because of my height and where I was standing. It reminds me of waiting for the parade at Disneyland when I was a child, a distant memory. I think my grandfather once gave me a ride on his shoulders so I could watch, but now that I’m an adult, there’s no one to do that for me anymore.
“Ah! Here they come, here they come!!”
I expected to see more elderly people in the crowd, but to my surprise, two young gals next to me were getting excited. As the lead portable shrine approached the bridge, hands holding smartphones and selfie sticks shot up from the crowd one after another. It seemed like a live concert where the audience was allowed to take photos. I thought vaguely that perhaps adults no longer carry children on their shoulders because we have selfie sticks now.
As one portable shrine made a U-turn, the next one arrived shortly after. Each time the portable shrines made U-turns, the lanterns at the ends of the bamboo poles seemed to overlap with the smartphones on the ends of the selfie sticks. This is truly an intersection of traditional crafts and modern technology.
My view of the festival parade was becoming increasingly limited, so I could only watch it on the smartphone screen of the person in front of me. After a brief tussle between the people carrying the portable shrine and those on the Kanda side, the shrine was lifted high, and applause erupted.
As I looked up, I saw the Shuto Expressway crossing over the Nihonbashi Bridge. Freight trucks occasionally passed through that expressway. Special occasions and daily activities are intersecting.
I later learned that the Shuto Expressway over the Nihonbashi Bridge is scheduled to be moved underground and removed in 2040. In the current setting, I felt that people wouldn’t be able to fully immerse themselves in the festival, but it still had a unique charm that I associated with festivals in large cities.
After making a U-turn, the portable shrines from several town councils were brought for a finale, a ritual ceremony where the shrines were lifted high inside the main entrance of the Takashimaya Department Store. On the way to Takashimaya to witness the event, it appeared that some traffic restrictions had been lifted, and a portable shrine was waiting at a traffic light. A portable shrine waiting at a traffic light is also a scene that can only be found at festivals in large cities. Here as well, the city’s functions continue without interruption, allowing special occasions and daily activities to coexist simultaneously.
When I arrived at the main entrance of Takashimaya, a crowd had already gathered. Although all I could see was the Nihonbashi Bridge, I could sense that the event was in full swing. The lifting of the first portable shrine seemed to have just finished. People emerged from the entrance, excitedly saying, “It was amazing,” and “Indeed.” It felt like waiting in line for a haunted house at an amusement park, with no idea what to expect inside.
The faint sound of Taylor Swift from the speakers inside Takashimaya indicated that the department store was open for business as usual. As I entered the store, I overheard two elegant middle-aged women speaking to the clerk. They said, “We just happened to be here, and there seems to be a festival going on.” In between the visits of portable shrines from individual town councils, the department store appeared to be allowing the public to enter through the main entrance as well.
As I was waiting, a portable shrine from Himonocho arrived. The portable shrine of Himonocho featured a stunning golden phoenix at its top, reputed to be one of the largest among the portable shrines participating in the Sanno Festival.
As the carriers of the portable shrine energetically chanted “Sayyah!”, they carefully passed through the entrance archway of Takashimaya Department Store, which was just the right height for the shrine. Once inside, they successfully lifted the portable shrine.
“This Takashimaya building is an important cultural property, so if the portable shrine were to collide with it, it would cause a problem for both parties,” said the editor who was accompanying me amid applause of people.
The portable shrine features unique designs specific to each town council. The thrill of worrying about the portable shrines colliding with the building seems to be part of the excitement of the festival.
After the portable shrines are carefully lowered, the town council and the manager of Takashimaya went through a greeting ritual, and congratulatory gifts are handed over. The portable shrines were then returned to their respective Okariya, their temporary housing.
After watching the parade of portable shrines, I made my way to Tokyo Station. As I walked, I suddenly remembered the Torch Tower under construction at the Nihonbashi Exit, which Fukawa-san had mentioned the day before yesterday, saying, “That will be the tallest building in Japan.”
“The landscape of this city will change again. “Do you think you will still call it your ‘hometown’?” asked the editor. Fukawa-san nodded and smiled, saying, “Yes.”
I was somewhat taken aback by that carefree smile. I had always assumed that a genuine edokko, someone who grew up in Tokyo and loves their hometown, would have more mixed feelings about the changes happening in their local city.
“Did you look forward to festivals when you were a child?”
“Oh yes, I was really looking forward to it. Back then, instead of portable shrines, we had floats. We used to pull floats before the war.”
The changing city and the festival. While gradually changing with the times, the people in this area continue to stay connected through festivals.
By the way, in the Sanno Festival, it is customary for the people of the town council to gather in Okariya to drink together as part of the festival preparations, starting about two weeks before the event. The gathering includes young masters from long-established local restaurants that have been in business in this area since the Edo period, as well as young owners of newly opened yakitori restaurants in the neighborhood. There are also employees of major companies. Perhaps it is due to local residents like Fukawa-san and their willingness to embrace the new era that the Sanno Festival continues to attract so many people and maintain its lively atmosphere even today.
Born in 1995. Graduated from the School of Humanities and Social Sciences, Waseda University. Active as a writer since her college days, she now primarily contributes essays to Web media, magazines, and movie pamphlets. Her serialized essay, City Girl Miman, originally published in the Web magazine GINZA (Magazine House), gained widespread attention and was released as a book in 2023. (Icon photo by Mikako Kozai)
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