Dazaifu, Daruma, and a Good Luck Pen at New Year in Japan

It wasn’t my intention to go to Dazaifu, but it was New Year’s, and what is even a New Year in Japan if I don’t go to a shrine to pray for some good luck? Besides, good luck is said to be strongest at the start of the year.

Funnily enough, there was a shrine within the vicinity of our hotel — the closest train station was even named after it — but I only noticed it on our last evening in Fukuoka. Maybe I’ll save it for next time. Funny how I keep adding things to my to-do list and wish list as if I’m going to live forever.

But back to Dazaifu.

It was Fafa who suggested it, and I protested: it’ll be too crowded, too far, too much hassle. Why don’t we check out the 1010 KITTE instead? “It’ll be closed, it’s New Year’s,” he reasoned.

And with that, we took the train to Dazaifu, a ride that reminded me of the train to Uji the week before, only much more crowded.

What I didn’t expect was just how crowded Dazaifu would be — from the train entrance area, where I managed to score some stamps for my while-in-Japan collection, to the shortest walk imaginable from the station before we were absorbed into a sea of people queueing for the temple.

At first — almost halfway through, in fact — I insisted on staying in line, because surely some good luck from a shrine associated with education was too good to pass up. But at the same time, I had this nagging feeling that I was one of those overcrowding tourists taking part in a culture that isn’t mine, making things more inconvenient for locals who now had to queue longer because of us.

And that was enough for me to step out of the line.

So I prayed from the side, which might be deemed odd, but intention matters, people.

Watching locals rub the bull statue and whisper prayers reminded me of watching my amma bend down and whisper to the white bull at Pluit Temple hundreds of times. The moment made me miss her.

Still, I didn’t think it was my place to participate in everything.

I did, though, decide to get a goshuin stamp. The goshuin queue was short and sweet. Side prayer done, goshuin in hand, gift shop next.

Because of the shrine’s scholarly bent, the gift shop sold student and study-related items, books, pens, and stationery, which I found fascinating for a shrine, though I felt too old to buy any for myself. My school days were long over, I told myself.

Until Fafa got me a pen. A good luck exam pen.

“But I don’t have exams anymore,” I told him. “Also, it’s not like I take exams with pens these days.” “For good luck,” he said.

Well, I guess it will be. I’m keeping it to sign all my important documents from now on.

Next came the bazaar alongside the temple, with pop-up arcades, festival food, and people being merry. We got squid, and I sent Amma a picture of me grinning, barbecue sauce from the squid smeared across my face. It felt auspicious, the grin in a New Year’s photo, I mean, not the sauce.

On the way back, I wanted to stop at the beautiful Starbucks, but it was too crowded. I did end up buying a few things instead, a blue daruma (only to learn different regions have different daruma faces), a goshuin pink rubber band, a lapis lazuli ring, salt purification water, and other little bits I tucked away.

The one thing I tried to find but couldn’t was Dazaifu’s delicacy, the Umegae Mochi. It’s supposed to bring good luck in studies (again, not that I need it at this age), and is said to be easily found at the stalls along the approach to the shrine. But with the sea of people, I just couldn’t spot any.

But I did pick up a Japanese chef’s hachimaki headband. To embrace the day-to-day of 2026 with gusto.

And with that, we made our way back to Fukuoka.

The train back was even more crowded, but I didn’t care much.

It felt good to have gone to Dazaifu, to visit the shrine, to have prayed, and to have a fresh daruma and a good luck pen in my backpack.

Follow me on Instagram @KultureKween for more recent updates.