One of my favorite movies is Akira Kurosawa’s film Ikiru—“to live.” It’s a gripping, deeply emotional film about a man at the end of his life. A government bureaucrat, he has lived frugally, nearly to the point of asceticism, but a terminal stomach cancer diagnosis spurs him to live more expansively and ambitiously. The film pursues many themes—love and desire, the nature of bureaucracy and public service, the social problems of hierarchy in a strictly hierarchical society, what constitutes “the good life”—but it ultimately ends on an inspirational note. The symbol of inspiration and the center of the political conflict in the film is the neighborhood park that Kurosawa’s protagonist is struggling to get built before the end of his life. It’s a dramatic rendition of Parks and Recreation made 60 years before Leslie Knope’s adventures in Pawnee, Indiana.
Parks are absolutely everywhere in contemporary Tokyo, and by and large they are beautiful, peaceful, and extraordinarily well-maintained and well-loved by their communities. Ranging from small neighborhood playgrounds to the massive national parks in Shinjuku and Yoyogi, seemingly every neighborhood has its own, and often multiple. These parks serve as critical third spaces for the residents of Tokyo—in a hyper-dense city where many people live in apartments ranging from 20-35 square meters, the public park provides an invaluable public good. Most of them are entirely free and open to the public, many are open 24 hours a day, and all are so pretty and clean (which Japanese has one word for: kirei) that even the public bathrooms are pleasant.
I like to think that Kurosawa’s film, made in 1952 in the early years of Japan’s post-war reconstruction, had a powerful influence on the civil and urban planning of the new metropolis, but like all cultural phenomenon the story is much more complex than that. Of course, the influence of Shinto on Japanese culture can not be understated—the appreciation and respect for nature runs deep here. There is also the lasting influence of the Emperor Meiji and Empress Shoken, the two deity-monarchs that led Japan through the period of rapid modernization from the 1860s to the Emperor Meiji’s death in 1912. Significantly, many of the parks of contemporary Tokyo have histories as gardens dating back to the 1600s when they were private lands owned and enjoyed predominantly by the lords and vassals of the day. It was during the Meiji period that many of the parks became possessions of the Imperial family and, ultimately, turned over to the city for the benefit of the public.
Throughout their reign, the Emperor and Empress promoted ideals of thoughtfulness, peace, aesthetic beauty, and tranquility. Furthermore, they maintained that these values could be maintained alongside modern industry, economy, and science. That juxtaposition of values is still highly visible and apparent here in Tokyo today. For Westerners especially, it can be hard to understand just exactly how tranquil and beautiful Tokyo’s parks and gardens are without experiencing them firsthand. But nearly anywhere you go in this city you are nearby a place where you can find seclusion and quiet from the hustle and electric energy of contemporary Tokyo. So during your visit, make sure you spend some time in the parks and gardens here—they can be particularly valuable to those jet lagged travelers who, having just gotten off a 13 or 15 or 17 hour plane ride, find themselves waking up before sunrise and discovering that Japanese coffeeshops don’t typically open for another 5-6 hours. Pack a book, stop by the konbini and grab your favorite onigiri, and spend an hour or so in any and all of the parks pictured below.
