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.

Japan Railway Station, originally uploaded by demosthenesofathens.

We made our way around a maze of escalators, colored lines, shops, vending machines, and a bewildering array of train platforms. We plotted our stops the day before, and now, bleary-eyed but excited, we waited for the first train on our way to Kamakura.

I wondered what the cloverleaf symbol meant, or what a green car was for.

Wakamiya Oji Torii, originally uploaded by demosthenesofathens.

The cherry trees lining the avenue were bare, fall having taken away their last leaves two weeks before. On each side were two parallel streets, open to traffic, each bristling with shop fronts and restaurants. People passed under the great Torii to walk the long gravel path to the Hachimangu shrine, some in casual clothes, others in kimonos.

I snapped this photo, then walked under the Torii, into sacred space. It was a clear autumn day.

Great Buddha, originally uploaded by demosthenesofathens.

The sun was beginning to set as we arrived at the Daibutsu at Kamakura. We were in a rush because my mother-in-law wanted to catch mass that afternoon. Harassed and irritable, I hurried through the crowds of people, hoping to catch a glimpse of one more temple on the checklist so that the trip wouldn’t be wasted.

The sun illuminated the top of the Buddha’s head as I crossed the great temple gate.

Zen zap.

Cave to Zenaraibenten, originally uploaded by demosthenesofathens.

The Zenaraibenten shrine in Kamakura is up a steep hill and through this cave. People come to the shrine to wash their money in its waters, for good luck. Old people especially would wash great wads of cash, hoping their wealth would multiply.

I washed one bill. Then I inadvertently spent it on some Suntory C.C. Lemon on the train ride home.

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.