|高木 Takagi. photo by Michael Glenn|
I got off the at the right train stop and started walking through the neighborhood. But my map and these shadowed early morning streets didn’t make me very confident I was on the right path. I was about to enter a konbini to ask for directions, when a police officer on a bicycle rode up.
He parked outside the 7-11 and went inside. I followed. My Japanese is not awesome, but I have had good luck with getting directions from Japanese police in the past. So while he was browsing the potato chips, I approached him like the dumb tourist I was.
He seemed a bit bothered, but gave me the “chotto matte,” so he could finish his shopping. He seemed to be buying drinks and snacks for a few people. I went outside next to his bike.
He put everything in the handlebar basket and motioned for me to follow him. We walked a couple of blocks to the kouban. There were about 5-6 police bustling around the street corner. My cop took me up to a map on the wall.
Suddenly, we had an audience. ALL of the officers were very curious to see what we were looking for. As he tried to find something on the map, each one interrupted with their own attempt to help. It was a combination of testing their English on me (which was not good) and trying to explain to him where he should look on the map.
As I stood in the huddle of six cops, I was embarrassed and amused by all the trouble my inquiry had created. A crowd was gathering on the street corner, and most of the locals were staring at me. Then the boss arrived.
An officer that was much older came out of the kouban and all of the others stopped talking. He calmly looked at the address I held in my hand. He punched a finger like a dart into the map and handed the address back to me. He told me that I could not go inside the place. I said I knew that, and I just wanted to take a photo of the outside.
Then a funny thing happened. He started scolding the original officer for not knowing what this place was. I mean, it has been there for more than 400 years and all. Like I said, my Japanese is not great, but I could hear the dressing down in any language.
I thanked them, and started walking. But the senior officer would not allow me to go. He continued scolding as the original cop was unloading the groceries from his bike basket. He pointed down the street and was giving him directions. And orders to escort me, apparently.
Now I walked beside the officer. And he walked his bike. I apologized to him. He waved it off.
That was a long 15 minute walk. There was the language barrier. But maybe just a bit of touch of annoyed policeman. It has a different flavor than annoyed police in America.
He dropped me off at the historic site with one more admonition that I could not go inside. Then he got on his bicycle and pedaled away to leave me alone in the quiet neighborhood. I spent a little time observing the old architecture of this Samurai house.
On the main gate was the name plate of Takagi. This had really driven my visit. You may know that one of the main schools of our Bujinkan study is 高木揚心流 Takagi Yoshin Ryū. And the fact that this was an old Samurai house made me dream of a connection.
The Takagi family has been living in this residence for more than 400 years! I know that Takagi is a common name in Japan. But I can dream. Anyhow I took some pics and walked around the old gate.
Then came a surprise! And old man called to me from the other side of the gate. He peered through the slot and motioned me to a smaller, side gate. He unlatched it and slid it open and beckoned me inside!
This old man, maybe a member of the Takagi family, made it clear I could give myself a tour of the property. He told me to let myself out when I was done. Then he went back inside the house.
I am always blown away by the generosity of the Japanese people. So I spent about 30 minutes quietly taking pictures and admiring the architecture. It seemed like there were a number of families living on the property, so I didn’t want to overstay my welcome or intrude too much.
I tried to imagine what old Edo must’ve felt like inside and outside these walls hundreds of years ago. I let myself back out the side gate. And wandered back into the streets of modern Tokyo.
I must thank the police. It occurred to me later that the older policeman who seemed very familiar with this property might have even called ahead to let the family know I was coming over. That may be why I was allowed to enter. I also must thank Japan This! for finding this, and for all of the other wonderful reports on the blog.