A Quirky Museum in Tokyo: Waterworks Historical Museum
This unassuming museum will give you a new perspective on something we take for granted.
The Story of Tokyo’s Waterworks
Japan is mainly forest. It’s here that clouds gather and most rainfall takes place. From there, the water flows into the fields and eventually rivers. It’s a familiar story.
What you might not know is that four hundred years ago, people had constructed wooden pipes, mokuhari (杢張り). They formed an intricate lattice under the city of Edo, which would become Tokyo a couple of centuries later.
Today, the modern network mirrors this pattern. They were constructed out of pine and cedar, their tiny gaps insulated with tree bark. The pipes used elaborate joints and were able to go over and under obstacles such as ditches.
Even at this early stage, people were able to create an elaborate network that separated clean water from sewage, serving around one million people in the city.
Things changed with the arrival of the shogun, Tokugawa Ieyasu in 1590. The population boomed and the network was greatly expanded to take in rivers from further afield.
In 1722 people began to dig wells. This led to new enterprises such as mizuya (水屋) vendors, carrying buckets on poles on their backs, and mizubune (水船) boats, collecting the overspill from the Kanda River and taking it to be sold elsewhere.
The wells and pipes provided the essential water used for domestic life: cooking, cleaning, washing, drinking and going to the toilet. The provision, security and maintenance of the system were all paid for. Samurai were charged according to stores of rice, households according to size of property.
Things moved forward rapidly after the 1868 Meiji restoration, and the city became Tokyo. The wood used in the pipes proved to be an epidemic risk and tragically 10,000 people lost their lives to cholera. From 1888 to 1898, Tokyo was supplied with purified water.
Once into the modern era, they made the switch to cast iron pipes. However, a series of tragedies, disasters and hardships hampered progress: wars, droughts, the Kanto earthquake of 1923, World War II, and storms.
Water shortages just before the 1964 Olympic games earned the nickname “Tokyo-Desert”.
The city responded by continuing to expand and update the waterworks. They built the Ogouchi Dam (小河内ダム) in 1938 and added the Tonekawa (利根川) and Arakawa (荒川) rivers to the network, which now supply 80% of the water to Tokyo.
What is the Museum Like?
This is my kind of museum. The Tokyo Waterworks Historical Museum (東京都水道歴史館).
Entry is free, and as such I can only assume that is funded by the Tokyo Metropolitan Government. This museum isn’t a business, nor is it an advert for a private water company; it’s there to educate.
Whilst others may prefer a slightly flashier, up-market feel of some galleries and museums, I find the quiet, unassuming straightforwardness of this museum comforting. The mission of providing a public good is as embedded into the museum as the pipes themselves.
Unfortunately, the museum is closed from April to September 2024.
From outside, the building could easily be mistaken for a municipal office. Other than the pump station next to it, or a few direction signs on the way, there is little to suggest that there is a museum here.
Upon entering, however, you are greeted by the sound of gentle trickling, and a modest but pleasant water feature. Beyond that is a small architectural replica of a reservoir pump station. To the right, a reception desk, and to the left lockers and toilets.
I recommend using the facilities before you start looking around the museum. If anywhere is going to contain lots of references to running water, this is it.
At the desk you can pick up an indispensable audio guide, which is available in Japanese, English, Chinese and Korean.
From the second floor, the exhibition takes you through the history of the waterworks system chronologically and thematically. Beginning with excavated wooden pipes, showing you beautiful Edo era maps and model reconstructions explaining the early development of the waterworks.
The next section seems to be a requirement for all historical museums in Japan, a reconstruction of an Edo era town and houses. Though not being all that much different to some older apartments still in use today, with tatami mat floors and a lovely bit of clutter, it is still very enjoyable.
It allows us to consider the everyday lived experience of people, and how water was essential to their lives and routines. It serves as a reminder that people in the past had similar needs, and just as much ingenuity, as we do today.
Finishing off the second floor there is an animated video of a rakugo performer, telling the story of life in the village. It is entertaining, and a good way to engage Japanese speaking kids, at least.
Finally, you make your way through the aforementioned reservoir pump station replica, and are greeted by the exhibition on the 20th century developments in the waterworks system.
Take in information about the water purification plants and a demonstration of the varying sizes of the new cast iron pipes. There is also a very charming water fountain and drinking trough that was installed after an Englishman reported seeing a horse collapse at the roadside.
At the end of this section is a diorama of a dam and equipment used to detect leaks using sound. Then a quiz for children, to test how much they were able to learn.
Afterwards you can unwind with a relaxing stroll through the park just behind the museum, with reconstructions of old water channels.
Finally, you can sample the “refreshing-water” that by this point you’ll have heard so much about — it lives up to its name.
Overall Impressions
Is this museum going to be a more exhilarating family day out than a trip to Universal Studios? No. Will it be as informative, culturally enriching and mind expanding as a visit to the Tokyo National Museum? Also, no.
But will it be an interesting hour and a half to learn about something that you hadn’t considered much, if you’re in the area anyway, or have run out of ideas of things to do on an overcast Tuesday afternoon? Absolutely.
The design of the museum is much more engaging than your bog-standard municipal establishment, and it’ll hold the attention of most adults and inquisitive children.
It’s accessible for all ages, and people who struggle with mobility.
It is not the wackiest or quirkiest museum I’ve ever encountered, but I certainly found it very charming.
There’s no flashy café, or gift shop. It’s straightforward, like a kindly aunt or uncle explaining the niche subject they’re interested in. For me, this is really the heart and soul of what a museum is all about.
It’s there to teach you about something and make it accessible, and that it does excellently well.
It certainly gave me a pause for thought when I next turned on my kitchen tap.
