This article is based on a visit made on Wednesday, 9 May 2018.
Previously on Sekai Ichi,
I had visited the Edo-Tokyo Museum, the premiere history museum of Tokyo. In that article, I had hinted that it also has a sister museum, one which presents a life-size model of an Edo-period neighbourhood. Well, to kick off my first new day in Japan (barring a stop at the Tokyo Skytree, which I passed on due to the misty weather), I finally gave the Fukagawa Edo Museum (深川江戸資料館,
Fukagawa Edo Shiryūkan) a visit.
Whereas the Edo-Tokyo Museum had a mix of life-size and miniature displays, the Fukagawa Edo Museum has a more specific focus. It showcases a life-size neighbourhood from the Edo period (17th-19th centuries). All the buildings were rebuilt from the ground up for this museum, which opened in 1986. They were based on construction blueprints recovered from the Edo era, were built using the same kinds of materials and techniques from back in the day, and were even treated to give them an aged, weathered appearance. You may learn more about this by watching a subtitled video, at the mini-theatre in the lower-right of this shot.
Visitors enter the museum from a second-floor entrance, and are presented with this view over the whole room. At the end of the room stands a watchtower, used to look out for fires that could start. Due to the wooden construction and tight density of buildings back then, the ability to identify and put out conflagrations as quickly as possible was of utmost importance. There were exceptions, however: more important buildings, like the rice warehouse on the left, were built with more fire-resistant earthen materials. Also, the cat on the roof next door is animatronic, and will rise to meow at visitors arriving from the upper level.
The lights in this museum cycle at regular intervals to simulate day and night settings. While atmospheric, I admit that this make it hard to take consistent pictures... unless you're going for a fake Instagram filter kind of thing. It is here, at the bottom of the steps, that one may hire a volunteer guide who will take you around the museum for free. Some of them speak English, as identified on their name tags.
This is the interior of a rice shop. Rice, as sold in Japan, comes in two main varieties: brown and white. The difference between the two is that white rice has been polished to remove the outer skin, or rice bran, of brown rice. White rice was, and still is, more widely available, and is generally preferred for its taste and texture. However, the process of polishing off the bran and germ also strips away most of the rice's vitamin content, especially B-vitamins. My guide told me this was responsible for quite a few sicknesses back in the day (citation needed). Even over in America, I've noticed a similar distinction among foods like bread and sugar, and this information has made me a more conscious consumer.
Edo, and Tokyo after it, was a city divided by many rivers and canals. Since this was a time before road bridges were commonplace, boat travel was a keystone of the city's transport infrastructure. People and goods travelled along the waterways in boats much like this. Even today, there is still a wide array of passenger boats cruising up and down Tokyo's rivers,
some of which I have reported on before.
Across from the boat on display (above) stands a row of "boathouses", operated as inns and other establishments by the boats' owners.
A few food stalls are placed around the neighbourhood, complete with plastic models of their fare. For example, this one sells tempura and other skewered stuffs. There's even a pot on the left that would hold soy sauce for dipping
(remember, no double-dipping!). Another of the stands was for two common varieties of noodles: the thinner, buckwheat-based
soba (そば), and the thicker, wheat-based
udon (うどん). I can say from experience that I prefer udon.
...and this unusually short stall sells Inari-zushi (稲荷寿司), which is vinegared sushi rice stuffed in pockets of deep-fried tofu. The name comes from the Shinto god
Inari-okami (稲荷大神,
Inari Ōkami), who uses foxes as messengers. Fried tofu is believed to be a favourite food of foxes, and the finished inari-zushi do seem to resemble foxes' ears.
This is a common area where villagers would eat their purchases from the above vendors. Open spaces like these were important in Edo. Due to the aforementioned fire hazards resulting from the city planning, these kinds of breaks in the buildings could help to control the spread of fires.
Another free space featured a water pump and a shrine on the right side, and a garbage bin and outhouses on the left. Notice how the doors on those stalls are open on the upper half. Our guide, who had previously lived in America (in fact, he used to work in the old World Trade Centre in New York), spoke of his surprise that stalls over here are instead open at the bottom, if only for a few inches. That said, I haven't seen this open-top configuration... anywhere, really. It doesn't seem very private.
And now we get to the interiors of the houses. In addition to building the homes, the museum had written up stories for five hypothetical homeowners or families, and gathered and/or rebuilt artifacts that they would have kept in their homes. These Edo homes typically consisted of only one room, with flooring made up of straw mats called
tatami (畳). Tatami are also used as a unit of measurement for room space, even today. Their size in modern measurements varies, but for the smaller mats used in Edo, they would each be about 1.55m² (16.5ft²) in size. This 4-tatami home was owned by a carpenter, as evidenced by the saw and other tools hanging on the walls.
This music teacher would have been better off than her neighbours. Not only does she seem to be equipped with nicer furniture, but her house measures 6 tatami -- and bear in mind, this does not include non-matted spaces like the entryway and the kitchen, or at least what passed for a kitchen in these minuscule floor plans. Also, take a look at the short, folding wall in the back corner of this and the other house above. These could be moved to divide the house at will, for example to create private, individual sleeping spaces. For full families who had to live in places like these, I'm sure that would be appreciated.
Hours: Open from 9:00 AM to 5:00 PM. Admission ends 30 minutes before closing time. Closed on the 2nd and 4th Mondays of each month (except holidays), and on the 1st of January.
Costs: ¥400. If you present an active subway pass, entry is discounted to ¥300. More information:
(English) (Japanese)
Address: 1-3-28 Shirakawa, Kōtō-ku, Tōkyō-to 〒135-0021
Access: 3 minutes on foot from Kiyosumi-Shirakawa Station (Tokyo Metro Hanzomon
(Z) and Toei Oedo
(E) lines). From Tokyo Station, walk to the nearby Otemachi Station and take the Hanzomon line to Kiyosumi-Shirakawa (Z11, 8 minutes, ¥170). From Shinjuku (JR) Station, walk to the nearby Shinjuku (Toei/Keio) Station and take the Oedo line to Kiyosumi-Shirakawa (E14, 30 minutes, ¥270).
Directions: From Exit B1 of Kiyosumi-Shirakawa Station (best for using the Hanzomon line), emerge at street level and turn left. At the next traffic light, turn right and cross the street. At the next traffic light after that, turn right again. In 30m (100ft), the museum will be on the right side.
From Exit A3 (best for using the Oedo line), emerge at street level and turn left. At the next traffic light, turn left. In 150m (500ft), the museum will be on the left side.
Website:
(Japanese)
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