Edo & Tokyo National Museums dazzle & delight

After two weeks in Japan, I'd come to realise that it was a country of profound and regular contradictions. Thus I wasn't surprised to find one of the world's best and most attractive city history museums tucked inside one of Tokyo's ugliest buildings.

The Edo Museum is dedicated to the history of Tokyo which, until 1868, was known as Edo. It is the ideal first stop for any visitor to the city, since it will put everything from why the city looks the way it does to the fashion choices of its inhabitants into a broader context. It's also great fun. The bizarre exterior shape ... like giant Lego roof blocks tipped on their side and suspended precariously on spindly legs ... makes for a cavernous interior space that's spread over two levels with plenty of room for full-sized recreations of buildings from all eras. You enter over a copy of the wooden Nihonbashi bridge that once spanned the nearby river, look down over an 18th century Kabuki theatre and a 19th century bank, and could soon find yourself wandering streets of common people's houses from the 17th or 20th century.

Exhibits run in chronological order from the city's initial rise in the 16th century to its renaissance as a post-war tech leader in the late 20th. In a country where we saw little use of modern, multi-media approaches at cultural sites, the Edo Museum is a star. There's an audio guide with self-selected commentary in a range of languages, video screens, interactive displays and stuff to touch and play with. You can try to hoist an incredibly heavy ceremonial banner, climb into an aristocratic palanquin, try being a water carrier or grab a photo opp working at a sushi stall.

Almost nothing exists from earlier incarnations of Tokyo, so much is recreated here in fantastically detailed models from a great daimyo's villa and garden of the 17th century to the pleasure grounds and Western-influenced business streets of the 19th. Needless to say, this is a fantastic place for kids.

Being fun, however, doesn't diminish the worthiness of this collection. There are beautiful artefacts in addition to the models and hands-on stuff, particularly lovely things from the Tokugawa shogunate including armour, swords, tea sets and a striking statue of dynasty-founding Ieyasu. There's a fascinating display of how woodblock printing works, complete with original blocks and prints. Gorgeous kimono in the section explaining Tokyo style, and how it differentiated itself by being more sober and practical than the imperial style from Kyoto. World War II is brought to life by ration books, wreckage and military memorabilia. My favourite item from the late 20th century was a combination abacus and calculator; an item that seemed to convey in one small package the unique way the Japanese have of embracing both the ancient and the new.

The Edo Museum has excellent museum shops, both at ground level and in the galleries, with a fascinating range of goods from toys to high-end jewellery inspired by classic Japanese design. The top (7th) floor boasts a full service restaurant with a range of tasty set meals and magnificent views westward over the Sumida River and the city beyond. The urban sprawl is disconcerting, but this was such a clear day we could see all the way to the mountains and enjoyed a drink as we watched a golden sunset. The Japanese, we've learned, like regular dining times and it can be tricky to get lunch or dinner outside of "regular" hours ... essentially noon to 1:30 and 7 to 8:30. We found museum restaurants to be not only of excellent quality, but established to serve as long as the museum was open irrespective of the usual meal times.

The surrounding area of Sumida was originally the nightlife and entertainment area of early Edo. It sat over a river and outside of the walls, similar to Southwark and London. It remains the Sumo wrestling district, with the main arena just next to the museum. The arena is one of Tokyo's better bits of modern architecture, translating traditional shapes into bold, contemporary materials. Sumida is filled with "stables" where different schools of wrestlers practice, and with restaurants catering to both wrestlers and fans. The bits we saw had a vibrant energy that wasn't as garishly overwhelming as neon-drenched Golden Gai, which I hated, and I would have happily explored more here if we'd had time. The area is also trying to set itself up as more of a cultural destination, with a museum dedicated to the print maker Hokusai and another dedicated to the Japanese sword.

Given my husband's passion for all things Samurai, we included the Japanese Sword Museum on our day in Sumida. We both agree that we probably would have spent our time more better getting to know the area better by wandering the streets around the Sumo stables. The problem was that this museum doesn't quite do what it says on the tin. We were expecting a museum on the history of the sword, with lots of examples including matched pairs of katana and wakizashi complete with handles, scabbards, accessories and perhaps a bit of armour. But this "museum" is actually more of a modern art gallery devoted to contemporary swordsmiths' masterpieces.

The collection is in a single, large room at the top of yet another brutalist concrete bunker of a building, and it's almost all blades displayed in their pristine beauty without handles. I appreciate a good sword, and there's no denying the beauty of the patterns that show up in the beaten steel, but after the first 10 or 20 it takes a real aficionado to stay interested. And, frankly, I found myself wondering why we'd paid 1,000 yen ... as opposed to the 600 yen to get into the much more impressive Edo Museum ... to see something we saw for free at Tower Knives, if in a shorter form.

The most interesting part of the museum is a small room off the entry hall, where they have one case with historic swords ... this time fully assembled ... and some armour. There's also a fascinating film showing the traditional forging process. It's in Japanese, but you don't need language to appreciate the beauty and complexity of what's happening.

A much better bet if you want to appreciate the art of Samurai swords, and so much else, is the Tokyo National Museum. This complex of museum buildings at the edge of Ueno Park is a bit like a combination of the British Museum and the Victoria and Albert, stuffed with sculpture, decorative arts,  armour, clothing, paintings, screens and any other representations of Japanese culture through the arts that you can think of. It would be impossible to see everything in a day; your best bet is a walk through both floors of the main Honkan Building, then check out the gallery of Horyo-ji Treasures. Though the museum's displays are very old school, it has an excellent mobile phone app that allows you to take virtual tours in advance. I recommend this strongly so you have a better idea of what you're looking at when you visit. Like the Edo Museum, there's a pleasing full-service restaurant here with a variety of set menus that come out in beautifully lacquered, multi-compartment boxes. The room looks over a grassy bank and small woodland, making it hard to believe that Tokyo is bustling just outside the gates.

The Honkan building itself is a delight. Like our ryokan in Kyoto, Yoshida Sanso, it's a rare bit of architecture from the period between the World Wars, combining a revival of interest in traditional Japanese style with modern materials and an Art Deco sensibility. The effect, particularly in the great entry hall, is beautiful.

Inside, displays on one floor are supposedly thematic and on another chronological, though the two flow into each other so much that it's hard to tell the difference. Thus you end up with a room of swords downstairs, representing the wars of the 13th - 15th centuries that prompted the rise of the samurai, and a gallery upstairs on the attire of the military elite. After the bust of the Sword Museum, we weren't complaining. You'll find something exquisite in every room. I was particularly moved by a collection of Buddhas and bodhisattvas rescued from defunct temples. The costume galleries presented dazzling examples of kimono and there's a whole room of netsuke, or cord fasteners, that could keep you busy paying attention to their miniaturised beauty for an hour or more.

I was perhaps most intrigued by a gallery dedicated to promotion of Japanese arts after the Meiji Restoration. I was well aware of the craze for all things Japanese in the late 19th century, often discovered at great exhibitions or World Fairs and sucked into contemporary culture. The Mikado, Madam Butterfly and Monet's bridge over his water lily pond are all examples. What I hadn't realised, given my Western bias, was that the West didn't "discover" Japan ... the Meiji government launched an active campaign to promote the sophistication of their culture around the world. This gallery told the story and displayed a range of beautiful items that had been produced at the time for the global outreach.

Nearby is another fascinating display, on how the museum secures its collections from earthquake. Storehouses hold treasures in sprung wire baskets, in cages, each sitting on coasters that bounce and roll. Major sculptures are on their own suspension systems.

There was one big attempt at modern museum technology with the VR experience, a separate £7.50 ticket ... quite steep compared to £4.50 for access to the whole site. The "virtual reality" set the bar for something exciting, but was really just a lecture with a film. The topic was the Japanese sword, and the only VR in sight seemed to be the blade rendered into 3D computer aided design so that the filmmakers could manipulate it at will to illustrate their lecture. (Which, thankfully, was offered in English on a headset.) I learned a bit, but probably wouldn't have spent the time or money had I realised the reality. Enjoying the swords in the main collection was more than enough for me.

We skipped collections from other Asian countries, Japanese archeology and special exhibitions to head for the Horyu-ji Homotsukan. This small, purpose-built gallery proves that the Japanese can do exquisite modern architecture when they want to; the shallow pool, marble slabs, glass walls and slim columns seem to perform a dance of sliding rectangles as the sun bounces off the various surfaces.

Ironically, the most modern architecture in the complex hosts some of its oldest works. This is the treasury of a defunct temple called Horyu-ji, and many of its masterpieces come from the earliest days of Buddhism in the 8th and 9th centuries. The same artistic touch used on the exterior continues inside, where pools of light in a mostly dark interior highlight statues, scrolls and ceremonial objects with high drama. Few museum visitors seem to get over here, and the emptiness makes the experience all the more dramatic.

The Tokyo National Museum has an enormous gift shop with all the usual museum shop goodies: postcards, books, reasonably priced gift items, kids' toys, collection-inspired jewellery and high-quality reproductions. My only complaint about the museum? The only air conditioning here is for priceless treasures in air conditioned cases. On a hot and sticky day there's little respite and few places to sit, so you do need to pace yourself.

There are scores of other museums in Tokyo to attract your attention, but if you want to get a broad view of the city, its history and its culture, the Edo Museum and the Tokyo National Museum are where you should start.