Asakusa it certainly is. And a real geisha she most certainly isn’t. But what’s similarly certain is that the sight of her is still very striking.
Search Results for: asakusa
The popular tourist trap of Asakusa is an interesting area to visit. On the one hand there is the famous Senso-ji Temple, along with all the shops selling tat that go with such places. Basically a fun and somewhat cultural spot to meet friends and take a few photos.
But Asakusa is also surrounded by some of Tokyo’s less well-to-do districts, giving it another, very different dimension. One that some people take note of, and others choose to ignore, but either way it’s always there, on the fringes.
Tokyo’s subway system is as clean and efficient as its highly praised cousin above ground. So much so in fact that it results in a rather sterile, characterless environment. One invariably made even more tedious by painfully long walks down practically indistinguishable passageways.
This exit in Asakusa, on the other hand, is arguably the exception to the rule. Yes, it smells. Plus its crumbling walls aren’t exactly appealing. But all together it’s a combination that arguably gives it something that the rest of the network is crying out for — a bit of character.
OK, she’s not a real Maiko, just a woman dressed up for a TV show. But with the country’s most famous non-Japanese Geisha having recently quit the profession, leaving only one left, it’s probably about as near as any foreign female is going to get for the foreseeable future.
And she did make for quite a striking sight.
A sight one doesn’t see everyday, that’s for sure.
For some people, running an incredible number of kilometres on a Sunday is what’s really called for, whereas for others, a pleasant potter about in Asakusa is much more preferable. A spot where the varied sights and eccentricities are still capable of bringing a smile to a face that has seen it all so many times before.
The septuagenarian aspect is merely speculation, although it’s almost certain that she’s somewhere around that age, but however old the lady is, it seems that she’s always shining shoes in the same spot, as, whenever I’m in Asakusa, I always look out for her.
And yet as strangely reassuring as the sight of her is, it’s a scene that also makes me rather sad. So much so in fact that I always have the urge to sit down beside her and see how she is. How long she’s been there. And how long she hopes to stay.
But for countless reasons I can’t; no matter how much I wish I could.