Path to Hachimangu Shrine, originally uploaded by demosthenesofathens.

At the very end of the Wakamiya Oji, past the huge red torii, the wide path to the Hachimangu Shrine was flanked by stalls selling different foodstuffs, some recognizable (like beautiful candy apples) and some not so much.

The daytrippers who arrived on the train with us were now walking ahead of us, and they all seemed to know what to do. I settled for a freshly-made grape lollipop (made from the biggest, roundest grapes I had ever seen), and made my way to the hand-washing fountain where the crowds were pausing before heading to the main shrine.

Hachimangu Stairs 2, originally uploaded by demosthenesofathens.

The crowds of daytrippers at the Hachimangu Shrine moved on from the stage where the Shinto wedding was taking place to the various side shrines with monks blessing little charms for business, travel, health, marriage, and so on. Temple miko briskly walked around, helping with odd jobs like sweeping the courtyard floor and carrying pots and flowers.

The bulk of the crowd, myself included, began making its way up the main steps to the main shrine and Treasure House, housing armor and weaponry from the Yoritomo Shogunate.

It was a cold November morning.

Boy in Kimono, originally uploaded by demosthenesofathens.

As we made our way down the Wakamiya Oji, we saw a lot of daytrippers heading toward the Hachimangu Shrine.

I felt very under-dressed in my jeans and jacket (acquired from Flash Report in Shibuya the day before) because there were people in suits and kimonos.

I took a picture of this little boy, proudly strutting in his kimono, accompanied by a tall young man in a very snappy dark suit. Was it his brother? His father? Whatever their connection, he seemed very proud of the little boy… and a little bit amused.

Hachimangu Wedding, originally uploaded by demosthenesofathens.

The two families left their footwear at the foot of the stairs leading up to the shrine stage. All the men were in dark suits, the women in smart, stylish dresses. The offerings were in place, fresh fruits aside from the traditional rice wine and bread. A crowd had gathered around the stage to take pictures of the ceremony.

The couple’s faces were formal, restrained, and expressionless. Tatemae.

I stood there, trying to read their stories from their faces. Their honne.

I wondered if they were in love.