June 10-11
Harajuku
Katie and I spent the morning lazing around rather than meeting the day with fervor. It was actually raining by the time we left, which gave me flashbacks of my sodden, depressing shoes from days earlier! I also had a niggling feeling–as if I had forgotten to do something before we left that morning.
I had.
I had forgotten to call someone.
But because of the lack of cell service (and available wi-fi in the area), there was no use in back tracking. So Katie and I spent the day in Shibuya–specifically Harajuku Street, where I had accidentally ended up days before. Since it was rainy, Katie immediately wanted out of the wet and cold.
I ended up convincing her we should go to a cafe.
A CAT cafe.
Cafe Mocha was settled in between a few different shops on the corner of a street overlooking the entrance to the Meiji Jingu, where I had visited before. We sat amongst at least ten or more cats in the small space of a second floor landing, the birch wood and gold canopy above holding some of the four-legged critters. I played with a few of them, trailing toys behind them and holding them up to the light.
It was definitely the highlight of the day.
Museums in Tokyo Metro
TeamLab Planets
Katie and I explored the museums in the Tokyo metro. The first–TeamLab Planets–was more of an experience than a a traditional museum. We managed to arrive there before a lot of the crowd.
I was blown away.
We were asked to remove our shoes before entering the exhibit halls, the dark walkways lined with lights illuminating our feet. The first piece we stumbled upon was the waterfall, and we entered the narrow hallway leading up to it, our bare feet meeting chilly water running down the incline. A waterfall of light emerged at the end, leading us into the next rooms.
What struck me most about this experience was the interactivity of each of the rooms.
In one, a maze of lights–infinite, endless–hung from the hall of mirrors, creating a forest of stars. The light danced as the music swelled around us and hit a crescendo, echoing off of the walls in a melodic thunder.
Every room evoked a sense of joy or awe–pure and unadulterated.
I wandered through a room of spheres, walked through knee-deep water full of koi, sat and watched as a tree went through its own life cycle again and again and again.
I was mesmerized.
The last room was absolutely ethereal. The floor was mirrored similarly to the first few rooms, but a projection played above in the dome, endless blooms growing, flourishing, then falling apart–dust in the grand scheme of things.
Shitomachi Museum
This quaint little building in Ueno Park was one of the highlights of the evening. It became home to Japanese artifacts of the Tokyo-Edo area dating from the feudal period to after the Great Kanto Earthquake that nearly wiped Tokyo off of the map. A whole world was contained in those two floors.
A world above.
And a world below.
Each section of the small building had interactive rooms where guests could take their shoes off to step onto the tatami mats and looks around the time capsules–those pieces of history.
I thought about this for a long time after: the way we wander museums like tombs, containing only traces of the past versus the present. I want to know more about people, the culture, the places I visit and revisit as I know I only can from an outsider’s perspective. I become aware in these moments that I am only a part of a larger picture. That standing in a place a world away from home that I can only take a glimpse at the experiences of other people.
And I have an immense appreciation for the individuality of our lives.
Sam