Back to the farmhouse

In Hattori-Ryokuchi Koen, the Open-Air Museum of Old Japanese Farm Houses is a time warp to a bygone Japanese era. Edo period dress not included.

The Open Air Museum of Old Japanese Farm Houses is just far enough from the entrance of Hattori-Ryokuchi Koen that it feels almost like a secret. Guarded by an embrace of trees and lush green bamboo, it might as well be. Yet, the museum's isolation and lack of tourist hordes creates a blissful sensation of escape; each step towards the twelve authentic Edo-period farm houses brings you deeper into a world that feels miles - and centuries - away from gritty, bustling Osaka.

The buildings come from various parts of rural Japan, built centuries before they were collected and painstakingly reconstructed here. In any other setting, they would seem alien among the park's takoyaki stands, neatly manicured flowerbeds and costumed pet dogs. Here among the sturdy trees and maze of forest paths, the effect is bewitching. Time your visit for the middle of the week to keep your fellow tourist sightings low and enhance your moments of zen.

Follow the curving trails of neatly hewn tree stumps from house to house; admire how the ramrod straight thickets of bamboo cast dappled light onto the thatched roofs. These are humble country homes, perfumed by earthen floors, wooden timbers and tatami. Were their owners still alive, a wandering traveler might get an invitation to sit by the fire, but today's visitors will simply have to enter on faith that the open doors signal a welcome.

Though the homes are simple, one can jealously note that they are sprawling by modern Japan's standards. For that homey touch, collections of rusted, abandoned implements line display cases or mark the exact spot where Mama-san would have sat at dinner. While it's tempting to don that wooden mask or play that shimmering silk loom like a harp, please restrain yourself. Signs warn you at every turn that these antiquities are "valuable presents" from ancestors. The mere mention of the word "ancestor" inspires reverence - we found ourselves tiptoeing through the rooms - but the homes' age doesn't erase their folksy pasts. These are country homes, y'all - sit a spell and read up. The farm house from Gifu, for example, features a gassho-style roof, designed to resemble hands clasped in prayer while the folks from Akiyama made sure to line their house with straw and extra thatching for those frigid Nagano winters. Lest you think the Open Air Museum is all about Edo-style home making, other buildings in the exhibit round out the neighborhood quite nicely. Kagoshima's contribution to the museum is an elevated 'Takakura' storehouse with wooden pillars too hard even for mice to climb. Osaka represents, too, with a rickety wooden windmill from Sakai, a gate from Fuse and a rice granary from Dojima. Were any farmers left in the village, they might gather to watch performers tread the wooden boards at the rural Kabuki theater. Imported from Kagawa, the theater set comes complete with a cloth drawstring curtain and seats made from bound bamboo logs.

It's exceedingly simple to let your mind wander to the past while strolling the museum grounds. Inside, the only things to hint at the pachinko-and-purikura reality beyond the bamboo clusters are the yips of dogs or guitar serenades of Do-Re-Mi issuing from the park. That, and the three designated smoking sections. Even an Edo-period buff's gotta have a drag.

Text & photos: Eva Sandoval