Edo-Tokyo Museum 江戸東京博物館

Founded 15 years ago, right next door to Ryogoku Kokugikan (the Tokyo sumo stadium) in Ryogoku, is this fittingly over-the-top home to the 400-year history of Tokyo.

The Edo-Tokyo Museum (江戸東京博物館, Edo Tokyo Hakubutsukan) towers at over 62 meters, ostensibly in homage to the former Edo Castle which was the same height.

Inside you’ll find original artifacts, representations and installations that capture the developing culture. There are also displays that recount the four-century growth of this metropolis, from a humble fishing village, through its establishment (as Edo) as the capital of Japan by Ieyasu Tokugawa in 1603, and on to a city of 12 million people now.


Think scale models of towns and buildings from the Edo, Meiji and Showa periods, along with a large-scale recreation here of the iconic Nihonbashi bridge – the eastern terminus of the Nasendo and Tokaido roads, which linked Edo and Kyoto.

A great way to lose yourself in Tokyo’s past, before all the redevelopment - even if most of this isn't really... well... real.

Tokyo Parasite Museum

Situated not all that far from Meguro Station, in Tokyo, is an unforgettable rejoinder to the foodstuffs unveiled elsewhere in this hack blog.

The Tokyo Parasite Museum is a trendy dating locale for young couples (no joke), and right near its entrance you get the gist of the theme: There’s a Godzilla-sized specimen of a tapeworm, 10 metres (30 feet) in length, that was extracted from some poor fool in Yokohama.

Established by a group of Japanese University parasite-specialist professors, the museum showcases some repellingly mammoth and subversively fascinating microscopic exhibits - revealing a collection of grotesque real-life freeloaders, most of ‘em uglier than those imaginary alien terrors from old sci-fi movies. Move over, Predator and James Arness.

This is the only museum in the world where you can see 300 varieties of parasites lumped together in specimen jars, and the notes make you aware that many of them are naturally ingested with… food.

It’s enough to put you off the delights of sushi. Well, almost, anyway.

Mmm... sushi.

Tin Toys Museum, Yokohama

When I was five-years-old, I bought a toy robot with the money my Nan gave me for my birthday: a made-in-Japan, wind-up tin carouser whose major identifying feature was a big ‘W’ emblazoned across his chest.

Just occasionally I still wonder what that ‘W’ really meant. Is it some secret identity or code? ‘W’ for ‘Wind-up’? An honest Jenglish mistake, like Wobot? Nothing earth-shattering at all?

I still have old Dubya. He’s like Old Yeller, but never bites. He’s rusty, missing his arms, and has been deconstructed several times, but he still works when you tweak the metal key that’s stuck above his right foot. He sits proudly atop the mantle next to my desk, having returned to Japan from Australia over eight years ago.

We even found his mint-condition, spitting-image double at the Tin Toys Museum, which was a bit unsettling for us both.

Though not, strictly speaking, located in Tokyo – it’s actually in Yokohama, about 30 minutes by train from Tokyo Station – Teruhisa Kitahara’s museum is an essential (if somewhat hidden) must-see for any visitor to this sprawling metropolis.

The co-author of the esteemed Taschen Books tome “1000 Robots: Spaceships & Other Tin Toys” (which clocks in at a whopping 704 pages!), the prolific Kitahara-san is possibly the world’s best-known collector of tin toys – for quarter of a century now – and recently appeared on the Japanese TV antique program Kaiun!! Nandemokanteidan, as an old-school toy expert.

His excellent museum boasts a collection of some 3000 pre-plastic toys from the 1890s to the 1960s, including a swag of mint-condition ‘50s robots and quite primitive early Astro Boy collectibles.

It’s a throwback to a time (in the early ‘60s) when tin toys constituted about 60% of Japanese toy exports, before plastic gummed up the works and took the anime merchandising boom to crazy new heights!

But wait... there’s more! The museum is built high up on a bluff that commands superlative views over Yokohama Bay, and is right around the corner from the Gaikokujin Bochi, or foreigners' cemetery - the most historic of its kind in Japan, and rated #38 in Tokyo's tourism hot-spots.

Even though it's not in Tokyo.