Tokyo is overwhelming. Home to 33.4 million people, Greater Tokyo, which
consists of Tokyo prefecture and the surrounding prefectures of Kanagawa,
Saitama and Chiba, is the world’s largest megalopolis. Here, one out of every
four Japanese lives in an area of just over 1,000 square miles. The modernity of
its architecture puzzles and spellbinds, its streets are labyrinthine, and
zoning defies all sense of reason or planning. Yet in the midst of turmoil,
travelers may find, on the upper 14 floors of the Shinjuku Park Towers, a circle
of calm. Here, the Park Hyatt Tokyo offers its guests a sheltering vantage point
from which to understand Japan, for this unique establishment not only serves as
a sanctum from urban chaos, but as a concierge to the complex city of wonders
outside its doors.  Park Hyatt Hotel, which opened 10 years ago, bridges two
Tokyos: that of commerce and that of fine dining and leisure. Within its walls,
one discovers a microcosm of the capital—the many strata of the city’s character
in miniature—such that a stay there provides a condensed education on Tokyo
life, beginning with the towers themselves, which—designed by Kenzo Tange, one
of the most influential architects in Japan over the past 50 years—reflect the
bursting energy and immediacy of modern Japan.
After the 1923 Kanto earthquake
that destroyed almost 75 percent of the city’s buildings, and then the aerial
fire bombings in the Second World War, the Japanese entirely rebuilt Tokyo. A
civic blank slate in the wake of these catastrophes, Tokyo, despite its scars,
was free from the strictures of the past to reinvent itself through its
architecture. The buildings in Tokyo—and especially the Shinjuku Park
Towers—embody expensive, multifaceted architectural fantasies supported by an
urban infrastructure that stands second to none. Nishi Shinjuku, the west
side of Shinjuku, is one of Tokyo’s busiest shopping and business districts,
only a few streets from the metropolitan government offices. Shinjuku is not as
haywire as the Shibuya district—where blaring advertisements, ear-blasting
pachinko parlors, karaoke clubs with dozens of perfectly reproduced,
theme-accented rooms (such as Southern U.S. roadhouses), tens of thousands of
pedestrians and bicyclists, and 10-story neon signs are the norm—but it does
share in the commotion. Above this din, the Park Hyatt Hotel seems to float
serenely—of, but not part of its environs. From the tower’s lobby, white-gloved
English-speaking staff in black, pajamalike suits bow, then whisk guests to the
41st floor. When the elevator doors slide open, guests find themselves in the
Peak Lounge, where the silence is deafening.
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