Clouds in the wind. Invitation -Interrogating the wandering soul of Basho-

Fukagawa is a neighbourhood that invites you to travel.

A few blocks across the Sumida River, not far from Nihonbashi, we find ourselves in an old working-class neighbourhood. Small boats pass through the locks and sail on the canal where passers-by rest. The atmosphere is reminiscent of the Canal Saint Martin in Paris. 

Seagulls fly in the sky and a plane flies low. Airport buses drive along the urban highway that runs alongside the canal. Fukagawa is a place where you feel a bit far from home.

It was here that Matsuo Basho, the 'travelling poet', stayed over three hundred years ago. From the time he was thirty years old, he wrote many haiku here. He passed on to us a number of travelogues, including 'The Narrow Path to the End of the World'. He has made a total of nine journeys, five of which began in this district. For him, his residences in Fukagawa were synonymous with the travel season.

What motivated the poet to travel? He did not tell us much about the influence of Fukagawa on his travels, but his attachment to travel can be seen in his haiku "Clouds in the Wind. Invitation", which dates precisely from the period when he lived on the banks of the Sumida River.

It seems that from his thatched hut, Basho could see the ships going to distant countries. He compared this view to the landscape described by Du Fu (Chinese poet of the Tang Dynasty) whom he esteemed so highly. From his modest house, perhaps he imagined himself sailing to China... The boats are still there today, but Mount Fuji is no longer visible. The Skytree tower, towering in the northern sky, prevents us from doing so.

If Basho wrote a lot about tea, Fukagawa is now famous for coffee. On this day when I am walking around, the area is very lively, perhaps it is the aroma of the coffee that attracts people. 
Nevertheless, the deep identity of the district has not changed since the time when Basho lived there. The temples and shrines are old, the traditional houses remain. The atmosphere emanating from the alleys is reminiscent of a distant past and is embodied by the mischievous mood of its hospitable inhabitants.
Many people come up to me, my pushchair does not disturb anyone. A stranger offers me a persimmon bought at the greengrocer's, a dry cleaner shares his tea with my child on a hot day, a surface technician in the public toilets applies a balm to my baby's mosquito bite. The building superintendent walks us to the front door every day.

Fukagawa invites you to travel while creating a sense of nostalgia. The desire to leave is mixed with its opposite, the desire to return. Basho himself left Fukagawa, and inevitably returned here. Except once, when he went to Osaka and lost his life there. He lived in Fukagawa in two different houses. His first house burned down during the great Edo fire, but the poet had a new hermitage rebuilt in the same place. 
I believe that Basho travelled because he knew where to return. Like a mother, a figure of security for her child, Fukagawa is a place of anchorage. 
According to Hemingway, Paris is a party. Fukagawa is more like an unpretentious bento box. Its contents may change daily, but it invariably offers the nostalgia of a moment.
If you want to discover Tokyo without frills, don't hesitate to make a diversion to Fukagawa.