There is something satisfying about a museum. Maybe it is the orderliness or the care that goes into restoration. Perhaps it is the reverence for the objects ranging from the everyday to the rare. I am excited to see how Japan preserves its history and art at the Tokyo National Museum.

We quickly discover that there are six buildings. This could take awhile if they are all full. Armed with a map and scurrying to keep up with my son, we head for the Treasures building.

I am initially underwhelmed. It is a large box of a room filled with uniform display cases. But upon closer inspection, I see each glass case houses a small, intricate statue or copper relief image. The artifacts were donated by the Horyuji Temple in Nara. Here the Buddha presents in many forms. Sitting, standing, relaxing figures surround me. Hundreds of effigies in one austere and modernist setting. Somehy the vastness of the space enhances the details on the small figures in the glass cases.

Next door stands the oldest building on the grounds, built in 1909 in celebration of the Taisho Emperor’s wedding. The Hyokeikan is now an administrative building that houses temporary exhibits. I read that it is a good example of Western-style architecture during the Meiji period and we move on.

We are ready for the main Honkan building which opened in 1938 and exhibits a variety of Japanese artifacts dating from ancient times. The only problem is that we can’t find our way in. We try a few different approaches and finally get in through an annex that houses a waiting area and a coat check. It seems the main floor is closed for renovation, so we follow the signs and end up in a small gallery. I promptly lose myself and am pouring over a hand drawn book manuscript page.

My normally mild mannered husband abruptly says, “this is not in order”. I don’t process what he is saying. “This is not in order, we can’t start here”. I shrug. “We need to get to the front.” I am now truly puzzled. It took us a lot of effort to get in the museum. I am not sure why he is so concerned about moving through it in order and this lovely book (hand drawn with tigers) is begging for my attention. “We need to find the start of the museum.” His tone is insistent. I honestly don’t know how to get to the front galleries (and I don’t know why he thinks we need to) but if it is important to him, I am willing to try to find where he wants to begin this exhibit experience. Goodbye little book with the golden swirls. Perhaps I will see you again.

We spend hours in the galleries. I see samurai swords, hand forged by master craftsmen for shogun and Samarai warriors. I marvel at the ripples worked into the steel blade. The helmets make me giggle. Most have mustaches as part of their design. I guess that makes them more manly?

We walk through galleries of scrolls. There are pots and statues. I examine dragons and cranes. There is even an interactive gallery where you direct the timeline by waving your arms and legs. We wait for my husband as he gleefully waves and swipes the timeline into existence.

In the Toyota building, we play traditional fortune telling games with a museum volunteer. I receive all good fortune messages. My son has a mixed record. My poor husband has a fortune so bad that the volunteer starts laughing and asks him to roll the camels bones again. It is not any better. She takes him to the next game and asks him to choose a pillow…still not good. She asks him to move to the next, but he decides to quit while he is ahead. Our son is quite amused.

By now it is late and we are hungry. One of us may be a little hangry. We find the restaurant nestled beside the main building and wait to be seated. Our food is beautiful, presented like works of art. I have a salmon bowl. Delicious smoked salmon on a bed of rice is topped with salmon roe. The eggs look like bright orange bubbles. Everyone has to try some. This is not something we get at home. The pretty orange eggs pop in my mouth, oddly tasteless.

It has been a good day. I enjoy confronting history and reflecting on how little has actually changed over the centuries. By examining artifacts, it is somehow easier to see what a culture values. Every object tells a story. I wonder what our objects reveal?

My musings will have to wait. It is my son’s last night in Tokyo and I have promised to take him shopping. The boy needs a souvenir gift from his parents before he heads back to work. As we walk toward the train, I have flashes of our own family history. I have walked through a lot of museums with this child and his sister. While I no longer have to chase him through galleries, (He is so tall. I can always see him in a crowd.), I still love having him with me. He will always be a favorite museum partner. I hope he will always be willing to join my museum escapades.