Senso-ji & Asakusa

If you only have time for one piece of old Tokyo, make it Senso-ji. The city's oldest temple traces its story to the year 628, when, the legend goes, two fisherman brothers pulled a small golden statue of Kannon, the bodhisattva of mercy, from the Sumida River in their nets; the village chief enshrined it in his home, and a temple was completed on the site in 645. The statue has never been shown to the public, but the faith it inspired built one of the great pilgrimage sites of Japan and, around it, the pleasure quarter of Asakusa that defined Edo-era entertainment for centuries. The approach is pure theater. You enter through the Kaminarimon, the Thunder Gate, under a colossal red paper lantern flanked by statues of the gods of wind and thunder; beyond it, Nakamise-dori runs some 250 meters to the inner gate, lined on both sides with old stalls selling rice crackers grilled to order, ningyo-yaki sponge cakes shaped like the pagoda, fans, folding umbrellas, tenugui towels and every imaginable souvenir. Then comes the Hozomon gate with its giant straw sandals, the five-story pagoda to the left, and the main hall itself, where worshippers waft smoke from the great bronze incense burner over themselves for good health before climbing the steps to pray. Admission is free, and while the main hall keeps daytime hours that run from early morning to late afternoon, the grounds never close and the buildings are illuminated every evening — which is when Senso-ji is at its most magical.

Timing is everything here, because Senso-ji is also one of the busiest sights in Japan. Between mid-morning and late afternoon, and all day on weekends and holidays, Nakamise moves at a shuffle and the incense burner is three deep with tour groups. Come at first light instead and you will share the courtyard with joggers, local worshippers ringing the bell and monks at morning prayers; come after dark and the stalls are shuttered, their painted metal shutters forming a gallery of Edo scenes, while the red gates and pagoda glow against the night sky. Both are free, and both are better than noon. If you want to try omikuji, the paper fortunes, drop a coin in the box, shake the metal canister until a numbered stick falls out, and take the slip from the matching drawer; tie a bad fortune to the racks provided and leave the bad luck behind.

Temple etiquette is simple and relaxed. Bow slightly at the gates, purify your hands and mouth at the water pavilion if you wish, and at the main hall toss a coin into the offering box, put your palms together and bow — at a Buddhist temple you do not clap, which is the custom at Shinto shrines. Photography is fine in the grounds; be discreet inside the hall. Next door, Asakusa Shrine honors the three men connected with the temple's founding and hosts the Sanja Matsuri in May, one of Tokyo's wildest festivals, when portable shrines are bounced through packed streets. Rent a kimono from one of the many shops nearby if you like; the temple is used to it, and the photographs are the reason most people do it.

Asakusa rewards an unhurried half-day. The side lanes west of Nakamise hold tempura counters, old coffee shops and eel restaurants that have fed the neighborhood for generations; Kappabashi Street, a short walk west, is the kitchenware district where chefs buy knives and visitors buy the plastic food samples seen in restaurant windows; and the Sumida riverbank looks straight across to Tokyo Skytree and the golden flame sculpture on the Asahi building. Water buses run downriver toward Hama-rikyu and Odaiba. From the temple it is about twenty minutes on foot to the Skytree, making Senso-ji at dawn and the tower at sunset an easy, classic one-day pairing on Tokyo's east side.