More Hakone Open-Air Museum

In the middle of the park there's a stained glass tower decorated with flat shiny sculptures. This one reminded me of something. I think Whitney Strieber might have used it for the cover of his alien abduction book. And I just spent fifteen minutes researching that, time that would have been better spent finishing my Christmas projects.

The most eye-catching statue

Before cell phones, we held shells to our ears

Hard to get a good shot of The Hand of God

Lots of Henry Moore scuptures

This was my favorite sculpture

This is the other side of my favorite sculpture

The Hakone Open-Air Museum: Public Art Tickles My Fancy

A cable car was a welcome relief after we dangled from a steel cable all the way up the mountain and halfway down the back side. The colorful maple leaves were a bonus, a feast for the eyes, and I was not about to complain that we were about a week too late to see them in their full splendor.

The cable car line ends where the Hakone Tozan Train begins so we hopped aboard and rode it to the next station which is just a hop, skip, and a jump from the Hakone Open-Air Museum, definitely one of Japan's best kept secrets.

Now I'll shut up and show you some of the wonderful statues we saw while strolling around the vast park setting.

Yes, the "hair" is living plants.

Inside, I learned a LOT about Picasso.

We had fun watching the 12-and-under crowd exploring this two-story high maze. It's a lot like the mazes at McDonald's playgrounds but bigger and cleaner. And I know what I'm talking about because I spent one of the worst quarter hours of my life chasing a four-year old through a McDonald's maze back in the day.

More statues tomorrow while I try to get a grip on the pictures I took at Matsuzaki's house today.

Exploring Sumida City: Kate's Last Day in Japan

Most, and maybe all, train stations here have lockers of various sizes and corresponding prices where you can stash stuff you don't want to carry around all day. We gained at least an hour of exploring time Wednesday by stowing Kate's big suitcase in Akihabara rather than backpedaling to the hotel on the way to the airport.

Our destination, Ryogoku, is across the Sumida River, a quick two stops from Akihabara. Which station exit is nearest the Edo-Tokyo Museum? The lobby map tells us the museum is just beyond the National Sumo Stadium (Ryogoku Kokugikan).

We spot this statue (left) just outside the station's east exit. The trail is getting warmer. We see the museum off to our right.

It takes only a minute or two to walk to the museum which, as it turns out, is closed for the New Year's holiday, Dec 30 - Jan 1. It was open yesterday but not today. We feel stupid for not remembering that all museums in Japan close during the holiday period. Then we get over our disappointment by reminding ourselves where we are: Tokyo, where interesting sights and experiences lurk just around most every corner. We simply have to choose a direction and start walking.

We see a three-story pagoda over the treetops and gravitate toward it along a brick path. The path leads us to Yokoami-cho Koen. Koen is the Japanese word for park.

Tokyo -- I learned this three days later -- bought this land from the army in 1922. The city was working on turning it into a park when the Great Kanto Earthquake struck in 1923. The park's role as a memorial space was ordained when tens of thousands of disaster victims were brought here.

We drift toward a monument designed by Kimio Tsuchiya called "Dwelling of Remembrance." This memorial to the victims of the Tokyo air raids of 1942-45 is also a monument to the pursuit of peace. A list of the victims of the firebombings was placed inside the monument when it was dedicated in March 2001. The flowers symbolize life. It is a restful place (as Matt and Katie illustrate here).

Lucky for us, a nearby plaque includes an English translation. "This monument was erected so that the memory of these air raids and their victims will not fade but live on to remind succeeding generations that today's peace and prosperity was built on the sacrifice of many precious lives. It embodies the profound hope that this peace will be everlasting."

The sandstone building just beyond "Dwelling of Remembrance" is the Tokyo-to Irei-do (Hall of Repose), built in 1930 to commemorate the victims of 1923's earthquake. The Hall was destroyed during World War II and rebuilt in 1951, at which time the original purpose was expanded to include the air raid victims. Since Irei-do is closed today, we'll have to schedule another visit to Yokoami-cho Koen. What flowers do you suppose they plant in the spring? I can hardly wait to find out.

On the other side of the park we find a memorial dedicated to the children who died during the air raids. I think about my Japanese friends, especially Kyoko and Misa who were alive during World War II. I wonder if they have visited this park and stood where I am now standing. A profound feeling of sadness of the lives-not-lived variety washes over me and distracts me momentarily from dwelling on Katie's impending departure. Tick, tock, tick, tock.

With public art so abundant in Tokyo, I almost overlooked the lovely gates at the park's entrance. Perhaps it's just me, but gates like this seem to be whispering, "Frank Lloyd Wright was here." Anything is possible.

Since one of us tends to get a bit, well, peevish when forced to retrace her steps, we headed back to the station by a different route. More public art awaited us on the near side of the Edo-Tokyo Museum: a towering statue of a man, a priest or monk perhaps, who is gripping a riding crop or some sort of wand in his right fist and letting his left hand serve as a landing pad for a bird. The man is standing on a tall pedestal that's balanced on the back of an enormous tortoise (left).

Have we discovered a Buddhist version of St. Francis of Assisi? Further research is warranted.

Perhaps I have just written my own epitaph.