Tayasu-mon Gate, Tokyo

If walls could talk, Tayasu-mon Gate would probably sigh and say, "Ah yes, the Edo days—back when gates were sturdy, samurais were moody, and courtyards doubled as intruder traps."

This beauty is a bona fide relic of the Edo period, standing tall and slightly smug as the oldest surviving gate of the old Edo Castle complex. Once upon a shogunate, it guarded the entrance to what’s now Kitanomaru Park—a leafy patch that used to be the royal family’s backyard.

But before the castle, before the gate, there was… farmland. The area was known as Tayasudai—rural, quiet, and apparently shrine-worthy. The gate itself gets its name from a local shrine. And its Masugata-style design is the 17th-century version of “security system installed”—two gates, right angles, a cozy little courtyard in between—perfect for making intruders pause, ponder, and get promptly skewered. Efficient and dramatic.

Now, history's a little fuzzy on the gate’s exact birth year, but it’s definitely been around since at least 1607, with a makeover in 1636. This makes Tayasu-mon not just old but ancient by Tokyo standards. So ancient, in fact, that it earned the title of Important Cultural Property in 1961.

Up close, the gate’s got everything you want in a historical structure: thick stone walls, massive wooden beams, and the overall vibe of a samurai film set waiting for its cue.

Beyond the gate? Kitanomaru Park—calm, green, and blissfully quiet. And if you swing by in spring, the nearby Chidorigafuchi Moat turns into a full-blown cherry blossom catwalk. Picture petals, people, and probably more selfies than strictly necessary.

For those who like their cultural snacks in variety packs, the gate is just a short walk from the Science Museum and the National Museum of Modern Art. Because nothing says “Tokyo” like feudal architecture, futuristic gadgets, and bold brushstrokes—all in one afternoon.