No place like Tokyo

Tokyo is bewildering and orderly at the same time. The complexity (just look at the subway map) is not surprising for a city with a population of 13.9 million. Though it is not unusual for tourists to lose their way in any big city, it can happen quite often in Tokyo, at least to me. In the mildest form, we just back-track and start all over again. But there were occasions when we realised too late that our map seemed to be at odds with reality. Once, my wife and I took the wrong train and ended up in some faraway station, its name needing a magnifying glass to find on the train map.

Hordes of people everywhere also blunt whatever navigational skills that are left of me from an ageing hippocampus (that part of the brain which gives London taxi drivers super navigational skills). If you want to test your ability in getting out of a maze, just walk into Ikebukuro Station!

Despite the city’s labyrinthian structure, made more complex by waves of human traffic, there was a sense that everything was in its place without the slightest hint of chaos or disorder. The passing crowd of well-dressed people navigated their way like predictable clockwork. They seemed so purposeful and focused, their steps synchronised so as not to trip one another. Everything was orderly, which is perhaps a necessity to live a good life in a crowded city.

Has it always been like this? Perhaps the Edo-Tokyo Museum can give us an answer. Tokyo was formerly Edo, an ancient fishing village that bloomed into a major city of over a million people from 1603 to 1868. Hence the name of the Museum. It focuses on the history and lives of the inhabitants of Edo and Tokyo in the last 400 years. I find history museums useful as they often tell stories that deepen my appreciation of the places I visit.

The Edo-Tokyo Museum

We took about 20 minutes travelling by train from Ueno Station to Ryogoku Station, which, according to Google map, was just 2 minutes away from the Museum. But we managed to take a more circuitous route, thanks to taking a wrong exit!

While the Museum is not a particularly beautiful building, its scale is nothing short of impressive. As we climbed to the entry-level, a generous expansive space about six stories high loomed in front of us. The massive space was striking, in contrast to the chock-a-block buildings in the city. My eyes were immediately drawn to the stunning solitary red escalator that transported visitors to the Museum proper. It looked like a throbbing artery leading to the heart of the building, reminding me of the similar prominent, but more elaborate escalator entry at the Pompidou Art Museum in Paris.

Let a free guide bring you around

Once inside the large building, we faced a full-size replica of the historic wooden Nihonbashi bridge, its curving bright yellow path was pleading us to cross over to the other side. Before I succumb, my eyes caught sight of a group of ladies and gentlemen huddling behind a counter marked “Free guides”. From my past travelling experience, it is far more enjoyable to have a local guide even if I need to pay for it.

We went straight to the counter to ask for an English-speaking guide. For the next two hours, we hopped from exhibit to exhibit with Miyakawa san, our affable guide who explained the history and artefacts of ancient Edo with much enthusiasm. For a fleeting moment, I was inspired to become a volunteer museum docent back home—but the thought vanished quickly!  

The first part of the Museum was devoted to life in Edo 400 years ago. The other half featured Tokyo’s post-modern period. If you are a history buff, you can easily spend a whole day at the Museum. If you do not have much time (because shopping beckons) but do not want to do just a whirlwind tour, you can focus on the unique part of the Museum, which is the Edo period exhibits. These are comparatively more interesting and memorable.

A short history of feudal Japan

As we walked around with Miyakawa san, we learnt some bits and pieces about ancient Edo. I supposed a small dose of history was necessary to appreciate the exhibits better. More history lessons followed later in the afternoon when we joined the free walking tour of Tokyo organised by a group called Tokyo Localized. So, here is a brief account of the world that all in Edo had to conform to and wove their life stories around 400 years ago.

In most periods of ancient Japan, the Shogun, i.e. Chief military commander was the de-facto ruler of the land. He was appointed by the Emperor, who really did not have much choice in the face of the most powerful man in the land.

In 1603, the Shogun Tokugawa Ieyasu established Edo as the centre of his Shogunate with the Emperor remaining in Kyoto. Since then, Edo became the growth centre in Japan until it was renamed Tokyo after the Imperial family took back power from the Shogun in 1868.

The Shogun controlled powerful feudal lords called daimyos. In a form of hostage politics aimed at preventing uprisings, the daimyos were required to keep their families in Edo while they were away on duty elsewhere.

You need to be very rich to be a daimyo. First of all, you have to be able to afford at least two lavish residences, one in the capital and the other in your hometown as befitting your social status. Second, you must make long-distance journeys to and fro the Capital regularly, which meant incurring more expenses because your servants and retainers have to follow you.

Serving the daimyos were the samurai, the much-feared warriors who can legally kill any peasant who dared to show them disrespect. But they were ultimately servants of their daimyo. Their blind loyalty makes them more like pawns and killing machines at the whim and fancy of their master.

Peasants occupied near the bottom of the hierarchy. The bushels of rice they produced and contributed as tax to their lords were the main currency of the day. In feudal Japan, the level of hierarchy you were in was shown by the bushel of rice you were allocated. However, peasants were not the lowest in the hierarchy—artisans and merchants were! But they were mostly richer, and probably enjoyed life more, if they could stay away from the samurai!

Beware, the figurines may spring to life and tell stories

The most attractive exhibits in the Museum were the dioramas and variety of scaled models of houses, courts and townscape depicting life during the Edo period. The dioramas were populated with tiny figurines crafted in fine details down to their hairdos, headgears and creases in their garments. Every figurine seemed unique. The assortment of things they carried—small umbrellas, dangling swords, bales of goods; the way they were dressed—flowing kimonos, shaggy slip-ons, neat uniforms; and their pose and look—surprised, curious, nonchalant; seemed as though they were modelled from real Edo inhabitants carrying on about their life in a typical Edo day.

If you look closely, Miyakawa san pointed out; you can see a pickpocket on the bridge in action. Yes, indeed! Not only were the figurines realistic, but they were also artfully arranged as if every spot and corner in every diorama scene had a story that was in various stages of unfolding. It is easy to make up stories of Edo life as your eyes drift through the figurines in various poses and groups seemingly poised for action for this and that. The dioramas were like a frozen slice of time, about to spring to life any moment.

There were also exhibits with life-size models of homes and workspaces depicting the living and working conditions of ordinary folks like carpenters and laundry maids, but they were not quite as fascinating as the hundreds of small figurines making up the many scenes of ordinary life. Perhaps it was the bird-eye views that gave us a sense of power and control over imagined life, just like boys moving toy soldiers from victory after victory on plastic battlefields.  

A familiar figure

As we moved away from the figurine world, Miyakawa san turned our attention to a replica float of the Kanda Myojiin Shrine used in the Kanda Matsuri festival (which celebrates the prosperity of the Tokugawa shogunate since the 17^th Century). Like a good teacher who asks more questions than give answers, he pointed to the top of the float which reached the tall ceiling and asked what we saw.

“It is Guan Gong”, my wife was the first to exclaim in a moment of instant recognition. It certainly was Guan Gong, judging by the trademark guandao (halberd) he was holding. I was a bit surprised to see the deified general of the Three Kingdoms era worshipped outside of Chinese communities, particularly in Japan. Then again, the qualities embodied by Guan Gong such as loyalty, integrity, righteousness, trustworthiness and bravery have universal appeal, particularly for people influenced by ancient Chinese culture and history.

Time sped quickly as Miyakawa san guided us through mock-ups of classrooms, bookstores, eating places and the usual obligatory museum objects like armour, weapons and money tokens, etc. Unfortunately, we had to stop the tour abruptly after two hours, with many apologies to Miyakawa san as we had to rush to the Tokyo guided tour in town in the afternoon.

Yes, it is worth a visit

In conclusion, the Edo Museum is not one that boasts of rare and ancient objects in its collection but does a great job in evoking a sense of life and living in a past era. It is certainly worth spending a few hours here. If you don’t like crowds, it is probably more enjoyable than joining long queues to view the modest-sized picture of a smiling lady in Paris or pushing with the hordes of tourists to ogle at the intricate details of the Chinese cabbage jade carving in Taipei!