It is opening weekend at the Edo-Tokyo Museum. We are excited to visit. Unfortunately so are thousands of Tokyo residents. There are lines to form lines to get in line to buy tickets. Suddenly, I am not sure this is such a good idea. But we are firmly in the line to get to the ticket counter and have no path of escape.
Tickets in hand, we walk past a special exhibit on fashion and are herded onto a series of steep escalators. We climbed higher and higher to the upper floors of the building. Guides dressed in suit coats point us ever onward until we reenter the building on an elevated pathway over a recreated city.
Shortly after the brief walk over the lower exhibits, we enter the exhibit first area. It contains ancient treasures. Interesting artifacts, but it is so crowded we have to fight our way to the rails to see anything. The lines are moving soooo slowly. People pour over each document. This is a large museum and will take days to see it all at this rate. I am uncomfortable in the crowded room.
The museum tells the story of the birth of Edo (Tokyo). Large dioramas show the layout of the ancient city. As we move along, the crowd begins to thin out, thankfully. There is a lot to take in. The exhibits change from treasured documents and armor to recreated housing and business establishments. I am intrigued by the bedroom display explaining ancient childbirth techniques. Makes me appreciate the magic of the epidural.
This is really a fabulous museum. I begin to understand Tokyo in a much deeper way as I walk. The ancient harbor and trade routes are fully recreated in miniature. They want us to appreciate the wealth and status of Edo, and I see it. I understand the evolution.
The cultural displays are charming. I find the sumo drawings timeless. Champions immortalized on rice paper scrolls may have hung in the bedrooms of teenage boys, proving some things transcend culture. It is very clear they were sports heroes in their time.
We walk into a kabuki theatre. Mannequins demonstrate the drama of the art form. Many of the signs are in Japanese so we watch the faces of the crowd to gauge importance and interest. People happily point and take photos. So do I.
A gallery that is not popular with the Japanese contains the WWII era displays. I am horrified to see melted objects from the atomic bomb strikes. Household rubble bearing witness to unimaginable horrors lays in pristine display cases. Among the war debris, are recreated apartments from the era. It is hard to walk through regular homes and then see the twisted remains of everyday objects. War is so unnecessary. It is a bitter reminder of man’s inhumanity to man.
Eventually, we make our way to the exit of the museum. It is an excellent facility and I am glad we fought through the massive crowds to experience it. Sometimes you have to persevere through your misgivings. I reflect on perspective and stories of the past as we walk along the cherry blossom covered street back to the train. Tokyo is evolving still. I am so grateful we have spent a month experiencing a small part of its story.
