The train station closest to my house has a split personality. Exit north and you’ve got an orderly bus lottery, tidy streets of chain stores, and the ever present Starbucks. Exit south, however, and you’re in a warren of tiny streets, many too small for cars, lined by ramshackle buildings with overgrown Japanese kerria and trumpet vines.
It was idly wandering these alleys that I discovered the Woodworker. That’s not his real name, of course. We’ve never met. In fact, in 10 years I’ve only seen him a handful of times. But he delivers a burst of joy whenever I pass because his garden is a menagerie of mechanical dioramas, hand-carved from wood and powered by little solar cells. Clicking and clacking, a tiny wooden marionette lifts an apple to his mouth ad finitum. A twee carousel of tiny horses only ceases to turn when the sun disappears. The crowded panorama of ticktocking boxes is ridiculous and charming and absolutely unforgettable in its slightly manic demonstration of Japanese hobbyism.
The Woodworker’s house is hardly something you’d put in a travel guide. And yet, I’m sure it’s a fond memory for visitors lucky enough to stumble upon it.
Over 20 years of living here, I’ve often had friends and family visit. We make the rounds of the usual tourist sites, which they find duly impressive. But the stories we recall to each other years later are about the unplanned encounters. That sake bar where the owner’s dog greeted every arrival exuberantly but growled and nipped their ankles when they tried to leave. That little neighborhood shrine where the garbage cans had neatly lettered English signs reading “Box for FILTH.” That random coffee shop that had the most exquisite collection of Arita porcelain and stacks of explicit manga.
Tokyo rewards the flaneur. Maybe because so much humanity is packed into a relatively small space. Maybe because there’s some cultural inclination towards making an idiosyncratic mark on one’s little corner. Who knows? But the city is full of delightfully small discoveries.
So, my travel tip for visitors is to leave room for serendipity. Tokyo has so much to offer, it’s easy to overplan, to rush from one famous museum or temple to the next. But you’ll miss a lot of what makes Tokyo Tokyo. Instead, leave some time to wander aimlessly, taking whichever turns seem most intriguing. The city will reward you with some impromptu jazz riff of humanity that you could never have anticipated and will certainly never forget.
