I pull on my shoes and take the elevator to the lobby. The only person on duty is the same man who checked me in last night when my taxi arrived to the hotel from the airport at 2AM. The man nods and says something gentle in Japanese. I nod back and then I’m outside on the sidewalk, trying to decide which way to go.

I’ve not slept in a while. Couldn’t at all on the airplane. It was delayed leaving Toronto. The slips of paper the airline passed out to receive compensation for the delay proved useless. Rather than try another tedious phone call to the airline, I decided a jog might wake me up. I hope so. It’s all meetings for the rest of the day, and I need to be alert.

I take a few turns through the small side-streets of the district, marveling at the wide variety of buildings I pass. My hotel is a medium-sized building by Tokyo standards, only 14 stories high. The buildings I’m passing now are massive by comparison. In between the skyscrapers I occasionally pass tiny houses, nestled between the towers of glass. One house looks like it belongs in the countryside. There are immaculately manicured trees poking out above the fence surrounding the tiny property. I glance at the house as I jog by feeling envious of whoever lives there.

I’m just about to turn back to the hotel when I see the stairs. I almost missed them. They are hidden by plastic orange and white safety fences guarding the sidewalk from construction materials. The fences are meant to funnel pedestrian traffic toward the open space on the other side of the construction, but one of the fences has shifted, revealing a set of stone steps rising up into the air on the other side. I glance back and forth. There’s no one else here. I feel like I shouldn’t, but, without allowing myself to think about it too long, I quickly step between the two pieces of plastic fencing to stand in front of the steps.

The steps are very large. Each one looks cut from stone. The height of each one is taller than its width, and the effect of this is that the staircase seems to move rapidly up into the air above me, like it’s a ladder rather than a staircase. There is a small plaque off to the side of the steps written in Japanese and English. 

It says, “During the Edo period a man succeeded in going up these steps while riding a horse. The 3rd Shogun of Tokugawa admired his achievement and advanced this man in the world. Perhaps you will find similar success.

I picture the man. Even though time stands between us, I believe I can see him. I imagine him pushing back his hair from his eyes and casting his vision upward. Without giving myself a reason to back out, I begin to climb.

The steps are definitely higher than what I’m used to. Within a minute or two I am gasping, but I don’t stop. As I climb higher and higher I hear the sound of the street below begin to fade away. The steps are flanked on both sides by trees and weeds, giving off a soft green fragrance which envelops me as I climb. There is a mist in the air around me. As I climb I feel like I’m leaving the city and entering another place. My legs begin to enjoy the effort. The air in my lungs falls into an easy rhythm. Suddenly I am standing at the top. In front of me is a small pagoda. A Japanese man is standing at a shrine, surrounded on both sides by ropes that have hundreds of pieces of paper attached. The papers are filled with Kanji characters. They must be prayers. 

The man claps his hands twice and bows. I hesitate, not wanting to disturb him. After a moment he straightens and turns. He sees me, smiles, and beckons me forward. Nervously I step towards him. He gestures toward the shrine. I stand next to him, uncertain of what I should do. He points to another plaque next to the shrine. 

It says, 

Wash your hands and mouth.
Pray in front of the shrine.
Make a bow.
Throw your money (it doesn’t matter how much it is) in the box.
Bow twice.
Softly clap your hands twice.
Make another bow deeply.

After reading through the instructions I look up, but the man is gone. I read the instructions again. There is a quiet fountain off to the side of the shrine with a wooden ladle. I dip a bit of water and drop it onto my hands. It is very cold. I rub my hands and feel my skin come alive. I stand in front of the shrine and bow. As I do, I feel the weight of my head, gently pulling my body toward the earth for a moment. I straighten and, after glancing around me, I softly clap my hands. I’m surprised by how normal it seems. The trees and vegetation around me absorb the sound. Suddenly I’m aware of birds twittering high up in the trees. A few strands of sunlight part their way through the upper branches and lightly draw yellow slants on the stones beneath me. 

I don’t know how long I stand there. When I turn I see the steps, disappearing below me down toward the street. I begin my descent back toward the city. Something about the day already feels lighter in my mind. As I walk down the steps I picture myself returning again tomorrow.