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HERE'S MY latest column to appear over the weekend in the Asahi Shimbun.
It was my first New Year's Day in Japan. As instructed, I tried to remember what I had been dreaming about. The first dream of the year had predictive powers, people said. I smiled, not sure if my dream, a carnival of soft porn, would count. It certainly seemed auspicious, but that's just me.
Later that morning I opened the door of my cheap Kyoto apartment, and a cold wind smacked me in the face. I soldiered on and crunched through the snow to Fushimiinari Taisha shrine.
More than a zillion people had decided to do their hatsumode New Year's shrine visit at the same place. I was pushed and shoved as I made my way to the altar for the bowing and clapping bits. The idea was the gods of the universe would then look kindly upon me for the rest of the year.
Years passed. I skipped the whole hatsumode ritual. Nevertheless, my luck remained reasonably good. I married, got older, got happier.
And then one New Year's, about 10 years ago, my wife and I turned into superstitious kooks. Out of the blue, it became vital to visit a shrine for the lucky smoke, the paper fortune and a fistful of trinkets called omamori to ward off evil.
Nowadays, I would no more leave the house without my general-purpose protection charm than I would my pants.
However, we never go on the first day of the year. Better to risk a few of days of bad juju than fight the crowds.
This year we waited until Jan. 13 to drive to Kawasaki Daishi temple. It's a big place. We anticipated having plenty of elbow room. Who does hatsumode nearly two weeks late?
In Kawasaki, it seems, everybody. It took an hour to park the car under the direction of grizzled old men in blue jackets. Under normal circumstances, I would have given the whole enterprise a pass. But we had the dog with us. She's old and needs all the help she can get. We couldn't leave without her talisman, a golden pet omamori.
Visitors streamed through the narrow streets to the shrine. We entered and joined a crowd patiently shuffling toward the main hall. Luckily, entertainments were provided along the way. At the Divine Water station we washed our hands. I dribbled some on the dog's bad leg. At the Celestial Smoke spot, we waved at the smoke, encouraging it to wrap us in its healing power.
At last! We stood in front of the offering box. I tossed coins, bowed, clapped and prayed. I'm not sure I got the order right despite whispered coaching by my wife. Whatever! We were now free to go omamori shopping, the real purpose of the trip. The dog got her charm, my wife abought lucky chopsticks and I got a blue cloth thingy to keep in my wallet.
I'm holding it right now. Oooo. It seems to be speaking to me. "You make your own luck," my charm advises. I scowl. "Easy for you to say. You didn't spend an hour waiting for a parking place."