Published on January 28, 2020. This essay recounts the author’s first visit to Ryogoku, where he sensed the lingering atmosphere of Edo, and his overwhelming experience at the Great Ukiyo-e Exhibition at the Edo-Tokyo Museum, featuring Utamaro, Sharaku, Hokusai, Hiroshige, and Kuniyoshi. It also reflects on the popularity of sumo at the Ryogoku Kokugikan, the astonishing smallness of the sumo ring, and the depth of Japanese culture, while praising the aesthetic sense, intellectual level, and happiness of Japanese women.

January 28, 2020
Japanese women are the happiest in the world, the most aesthetically gifted in the world, and the most intellectually refined people in the world. Each lives in the highest happiness, flourishing as a woman in her own way.
When the New Year Grand Sumo Tournament was being held at the Kokugikan, I visited Ryogoku for the first time on business.
For some time now, every time I have gone up to Tokyo, I have been thinking—though it is, of course, an obvious thing—that Tokyo is Edo.
The other day, after finishing some business, when I visited Ueno for the first time in a very long while to see the Van Gogh exhibition, I felt this decisively.
The reason I think such an extremely obvious thing is that, among people who do not live in Kyoto, I am probably the person in the world who has visited Kyoto most often.
I do not mean in the sense of attending school there or working for a company there, but in the sense of visiting not only the streets of Kyoto, but also the Kyoto Imperial Palace, shrines, temples, and so on.
Kyoto was the city that remained Japan’s capital from the Heian period until the beginning of the Edo period.
Ryogoku is the town where Katsushika Hokusai was born.
It is also the town where Katsu Kaishu was born.
It is filled with the scent of Edo.
I immediately liked it.
For lunch, I ate chanko nabe near the JR station.
It was not only truly delicious, but also very reasonably priced.
Now to the main subject.
What was truly lucky was that the Great Ukiyo-e Exhibition was being held at the Edo-Tokyo Museum near the station.
It was a grand exhibition covering the works of five artists: Utamaro, Sharaku, Hokusai, Hiroshige, and Kuniyoshi.
As my readers know, I have seen almost every exhibition that I felt I had to see, but this exhibition was overwhelming.
After all, it was the first exhibition where, halfway through, I felt that my body could no longer endure it and cried out, in a good sense, “Please, no more,” in grateful exhaustion.
And yet the admission fee of 1,400 yen made it the best-value exhibition in history.
From the moment I saw the first Utamaro, I was compelled to groan, “Utamaro is tremendous.”
And after him, four more geniuses followed, each making me proud to be Japanese.
If one were to view everything with a sharpened and concentrated mind, three hours would be necessary.
It was an extraordinarily luxurious exhibition.
It was a weekday afternoon.
There was a tremendous crowd, but the majority of the visitors were ladies.
Japanese women are the happiest in the world, the most aesthetically gifted in the world, and the most intellectually refined people in the world.
Each lives in the highest happiness, flourishing as a woman in her own way.
To flourish as a woman does not mean only working as an office employee, nor does it mean at all becoming an executive at a listed company.
This world consists of men and women, and within it, they live happily, flourishing as women.
The women who enjoy the greatest richness, happiness, and freedom in the world are Japanese women.
Fully satisfied, I decided to visit the Kokugikan for the first time with great excitement.
Tokyo is now under construction everywhere, and especially around stations there are many places where it is difficult to go smoothly to one’s destination.
The Kokugikan should have been very close to the museum, but it seemed that I needed to make a detour.
Just then, there was a woman who looked like a housewife living nearby, so when I confirmed the way with her, she said, “That is where I am going, so let us go together.”
I was surprised when I heard that she was, in fact, from Hong Kong.
She had apparently come to Japan to watch sumo.
In my poor English, I told her that the efforts of the people of Hong Kong were remarkable.
While saying things such as that I admired them, I had her take me to the entrance.
There, I was even more surprised.
Since I was small, I have loved watching sumo.
When I was a child, I often played by wrestling sumo.
I had never imagined that sumo wrestlers were such great stars.
It is no exaggeration to say that they are Japan’s greatest stars.
I am not moved when young people crowd around popular singers and the like—though I am surprised and think, “Oh, really?”
But by going to the Kokugikan, I may say that I recognized for the first time that sumo is truly the national sport.
The route along which the sekitori entered the Kokugikan was filled with ladies waiting for them to appear.
They packed the sidewalk tightly, and they also formed lines on the stairs of the Kokugikan.
In front of them, the sekitori entered, here and there, one after another.
“There’s Tochiozan.”
“I’m satisfied now that I’ve seen Tochiozan…”
It was a truly fine scene.
In front of Ryogoku Station, there is the Sumo Museum, and inside it there is a full-size sumo ring.
I saw it for the first time.
I was astonished.
By how small it was.
In such a small ring, such enormous wrestlers fight.
Is there any other sport so astonishing as this?
This article continues.