An Afternoon Without a Plan

We usually have somewhere to go and something we want to see. But what happens when, for one afternoon, we let go of needing a destination? Sometimes wandering without a plan can lead to places you never expected to find.

SHRINES AND TEMPLESTRAVEL TIPSDOWNSIZING & TRAVEL LIFE

9/15/20266 min read

We have been exceedingly fortunate to have visited Japan many times in the last three years. Of course, our priority is visiting our adult children attending school there, but along the way, we have seen MANY of the tourist destinations and attractions that one would find posted on Facebook or Instagram.

So, every time before we fly to Japan, we get the offer from our children: “Let us know what you want to do and where you want to go.” We research, make our list, and they become our personal tour guides.

We usually take a family vacation for one week to “get away” from Tokyo, often to an entirely different area of Japan. But the majority of our time when visiting is spent within a two-hour train ride of Tokyo.

Before our last trip, we searched and researched dozens of attractions, “places to go,” and “places to see,” and planned accordingly. That’s how we usually travel. We may leave some days open, but even then, we usually end up deciding on a destination. There is always something someone wants to see.

But on this particular day, after our son got out of school, we met him at a local restaurant without a plan.

We went through the usual litany:

“What do you want to do?”

“Where do you want to go?”

“What do you want to see?”

My usual comeback of “I don’t know” raced out of my mouth before anyone thought of a suggestion.

And then we struggled with it.

Someone could name a place they wanted to see. We could pull out our phones and search for something nearby. We could do what we always do—pick a destination and figure out how to get there.

Instead, our son suggested something entirely different:

“Let’s get on this train, pick a random stop, and see what we can find.”

It sounded simple. But for a family accustomed to having a plan and somewhere to go, getting on a train without knowing where we were going felt surprisingly strange.

But we agreed.

We jumped on the Tokyu Setagaya Line out of Sangenjaya, which has a station at the base of the Carrot Tower, affectionately named for its orange exterior. We traveled several stops and got off at the randomly picked fifth stop, Kamimachi.

We looked around to see if anything caught our attention: an interestingly shaped elevated pedestrian walkway painted bright blue, a large sign for a local department store, and many small shops offering locals their daily amenities, like an animal hospital, a café, and a dry cleaner.

Then we pulled out our phones and looked at the map—not to decide where we should go, but simply to see what was around us. We noticed several things and set out to find them.

As a side note, on several occasions we have noticed that many museums, in America and Japan, are closed on Mondays. I don’t know if it is an international “museum law,” but it is quite common.

Unfortunately, we didn’t think about what day it was until we came to the first attraction—a museum—and, yes, it WAS closed. It was Monday.

Nevertheless, we read the information boards about the Site of Setagaya Daikan’s Residence. With large gates and tall walls surrounding the museum and grounds, it was clearly a place where we could spend at least an hour or two exploring the museum, buildings, and grounds.

But it would have to wait for another day.

We then noticed an interesting term on our phone map designating an eight-block area as “Shrine Square.” Within this square were several Shinto shrines and Buddhist temples.

Our son once told us that there are so many Buddhist temples and Shinto shrines in Japan that if he visited one every day for the rest of his life, he still wouldn’t be able to see them all. He wasn’t exaggerating.

Still, discovering shrines and temples has become one of his favorite pastimes, as each has its own history, themes, historical figures, and characteristics.

Shrines and temples also have their own “goshuin” (御朱印). A goshuin is a unique, hand-brushed seal given at Shinto shrines and Buddhist temples as a record of your visit. Both our children collect them to document the shrines and temples they visit.

We continued toward “Shrine Square.”

The first shrine we came to was Kamimachi Tenso Shrine. It is dedicated to Amaterasu-omikami, the Shinto sun goddess. Its main feature is a very large stone torii gate standing in front of the green-roofed worship hall.

Unfortunately there was no one there to purchase a goshuin from, so we continued our trek.

We then came across a private shrine. The interesting thing about this one was the 100-year-old cherry trees that distinguished the yard. I’m sure it is amazing in the spring when they bloom.

We wandered along, as this was definitely not a hike, but a wandering activity. We passed another shrine and then a cemetery, all meticulously maintained and cleaned, reflecting the respect given to these sacred areas.

And then we came across an open Buddhist temple.

This temple is called Jissoin Temple, and it was the hidden-gem discovery of the day.

Not many tourists visit these temples that are dotted throughout ordinary neighborhoods, so they are often uncrowded, with only a few local residents offering prayers and caring for loved ones’ gravesites—and, in this case, gardeners carefully tending the grounds.

Jissoin Buddhist Temple was like walking into a forested garden paradise that embraced you with a gentle peace and serenity. As you walk among the tallest of trees and carefully pruned plants, you forget you are in the middle of a relatively large and busy city neighborhood.

Since we’ve been coming to Japan, we have visited well over a hundred temples and shrines, from Hiroshima to Hokkaido, but I have never experienced a shrine or temple that seemed to have this same mystical charm.

The grounds seemed to have almost every characteristic we have seen at other temples, all combined in one place. There was a two-story pagoda, an Inari shrine, several cemetery sections, an underground vault similar to a mausoleum, a lantern garden, a small bamboo “forest,” temple gates, sitting areas, and statues, including the “peace girl”—an endearing name we gave her because we have seen versions of her in many different places throughout Japan, commonly called Ayatori, unfortunately I don't know the name of the artist for this version.

As we continued to wander, we weren’t able to completely explore the grounds for two reasons. First, a large area was blocked off for repairs to the walkway. Second, we were getting eaten alive by mosquitoes because we had forgotten our insect repellent.

As we exited toward the gates with a quicker gait, and the welts started developing, William looked more thoroughly through his backpack. Hidden at the bottom was the insect spray bottle, which we quickly applied—but obviously a little too late.

I then realized the only thing I hadn’t seen was a water feature, such as a small creek or pond, even though there were MANY mosquitoes. But maybe it was in the section that was cordoned off?

We decided to begin heading back to the train station and boarded the air-conditioned cars to head back to the bus that would take us home. It had been a busy day, with over 10K steps recorded on our pedometers.

Of course, choosing a random stop doesn't mean wandering blindly. We knew the general area, had our phones, knew how to get back, and used the same common sense we would anywhere unfamiliar. The point wasn't to be reckless—it was simply to stop deciding exactly what we needed to find.

We had set out without a destination and came back having seen six temples and shrines, historical sites, unexpected architecture, and a neighborhood none of us had ever explored.

Our phones helped us find what was around us, but the best part was looking up from them and paying attention to what was actually there.

You never know what you will discover—especially when you make no plans, have an afternoon to wander, and simply follow your curiosity.