Memories of the Asanoha Pattern: A Solo Trip to Kyoto and a Gamaguchi Purse
Memories of the Asanoha Pattern: A Solo Trip to Kyoto and a Gamaguchi Purse
Ten years have passed since I started living in Tokyo. My work was busy, my days were hectic, and before I knew it, I no longer had time to notice the changing seasons. Then, one day, while browsing through the photo folders on my smartphone, I happened to notice some photos of Kyoto that I had visited during my university days. Arashiyama with its autumn leaves, Gion at night, and, for some reason, the only photo in the photo was of a clasp purse. I have a vague memory of whether I had bought it at the time or if it belonged to someone else, but for some reason, the photo stuck in my mind.
It was the next morning that I decided to go to Kyoto.
It had been a long time since I last traveled alone. The scenery outside the Shinkansen window was somehow softer than the hustle and bustle of Tokyo, and the air felt fresh. The moment I stepped off the train at Kyoto Station, I felt a soft relief in my heart.
Our first stop was Sanjo Ohashi Bridge. We crossed the bridge, admiring the flow of the Kamo River, and walked along the road leading to Yamashina. The wide, two-lane road was constantly filled with cars, and there was a sense of life in the air, a little different from the tranquility of tourist areas.
As Higashiyama Station on the subway came into view, a small shop called "WABISUKE" caught my eye. The beautiful display of fabric accessories visible through the glass made me stop in my tracks. It didn't have the feel of a back alley in a tourist area, but the shop exuded a certain tranquility amidst the bustle of the street.
Upon entering the store, I saw a neat display of Japanese fabric accessories, each carefully crafted. What caught my eye was a red hemp leaf patterned clasp purse.
"The hemp leaf pattern has the meaning of warding off evil spirits," the shop owner told us. "In the past, it was also used on baby clothes, in the hope of healthy growth."
When you pick up the purse, you'll feel its comfortable size, which fits perfectly in the palm of your hand. The clasp opens and closes smoothly, and the fabric feels soft yet sturdy. The white geometric pattern stands out against the red background, creating a nostalgic yet new look.
The moment I said, "I'd like this," I felt like a small light had lit deep inside my heart.
From that day on, the purse became my travel companion. I put my change in it, stash my tickets, and sometimes even sneak in a small candy. Every time I use it, I'm reminded of the conversations I had at the WABISUKE store and the atmosphere of Kyoto.
During my travels, as I crossed Togetsukyo Bridge in Arashiyama, I took the purse out of my pocket and, gazing out at the flowing river, thought to myself, "Perhaps this journey was to bring something back."
It's the sense of "space" that we forget in our busy schedules. The richness of time to do nothing. The warmth of talking with someone. And quiet time to face yourself.
The next morning, I got up early and headed to Kiyomizu-dera Temple. The morning light illuminated the stone steps, and the air was clear. There were still few tourists, so I put my hands together in prayer in the quiet temple grounds. I didn't make a wish. I just murmured "thank you" in my heart.
On the Shinkansen train back to Tokyo, I placed the purse on my lap and recalled the memories of my trip. The hemp leaf pattern is a symbol of health. But perhaps what I needed at the time was a healthy mind.
WABISUKE's purses are not just ordinary items, but small treasures filled with memories of Kyoto's air, quiet times, and journeys where one faced oneself.
And I will definitely go to Kyoto again, no matter what seasons change or how old I get, with this purse in hand.
It's to remind me of my own ``space.''
*This article is a fictional essay based on the scenery and products of Kyoto. The characters and experiences are fictional and are not related to any real people or events.