1st Project Visit #1

I am here at the shrine near my dorm in Akasaka as the first part of my first Neighborhood Narratives project. The assignment: bring nothing but a journal and record your observations in a local neighborhood. I came to this shrine last Sunday, and, as the New Year's celebrations were still in full swing, the place was packed. On this Sunday evening, there are no where near as many people, although the place is by no means empty. However, today there are no stands of merchants selling takoyaki or other concessions you would expect to find at a fair. People are here by themselves, or in groups of twos and threes. Lots of couples and a few families with small children.
My first impression as I arrived at the shrine was that this must be the Shinto version of those American Christian Protestant mega-churches. It is set in the midst of tall buildings containing very important businesses and the tori gates, rather than being red and wooden, are massive and completely made of grey granite. There are about a million steps leading up to the shrine and an escalator along the side for those who don't feel up to the hike. Next to the shrine is a restaurant that looks rather nice. As I enter the main shrine grounds a number of things strike me. First, is the smell of woodsmoke and the large fire that is going on. In front of the sight is a big white sign with black characters. I write down the characters and vow to look them up later. Ther other strange thing is the chicken coop at the front entrance full of mostly sleeping chickens. Unlike last weekend, only one stand is open today selling the white pieces of paper and wooden plaques that people write prayers and messages on. I know almost nothing about Shinto and I find myself wishing I understood what was going on.
Someone just banged on what sounds like a very very big drum. I can feel the echo of the boom on the ground under my feet. It's kinda scary!
There is a short line up to the main shrine area and people take their turn ringing the bell, throwing in a coin and clapping their hands twice. No one else seems phased by the booming and, as it continues, I'm getting used to it to. It's 5 o'clock now. Some people are starting to leave, I'm beginning to think they might be closing. Do shrines close? The stand of trinkets is still open so I think I might be OK for a few more minutes.
I write down the name of the shrine in kanji, just so I won't forget it. I've noticed a lot of things about shrines in Japan that all seem to be the same. There are the big red flags with the names of local business sponsors. There is the wall of big tubs filled with sake. I think the sake is dedicated when the shrine first opens so this sake must be very old. But, come to think of it, I have no idea how old this shrine is.
Religion in Japan strikes me as being very different than religion in America. Some of the difference I think stems from the nature of Shinto and some of it from the nature of Japanese. Although, perhaps I don't know enought about either to make that statement. The people I see at the shrine look very relaxed. Coming here is a very natural part of their lives. It also looks very personal to me. Rather than being very loud and outspoken about their beliefs, they almost goes without saying. The people I'm looking at look like they are having normal, everyday conversations unrelated to their visit to the shrine. They could just as easily be shopping or going to eat. Little kids are running around, playing. However, something about the atmosphere of this place has an effect on people. They are slightly more reverant perhaps.
Those who work at the shrine are dressed in religious-looking clothing. Big white flowy pants and solid colored pants. I only see men that are dressed like this.
I'm curious to see what this place looks like on a weekday. I've only been here on Sunday and there's always been plenty of people here. Are there any times when there are no people around?
As I leave, I'm immediately thrown back into reality. I am in Tokyo and the streets are loud and busy and full of lights. It seems strange that this peaceful, reflective place can exist in the midst of all of this. Religion and everyday life seem to co-exist so naturally in Japan. I'm curious about this maybe a few more visits here will help me understand better.