Why Do People Keep Coming to Ueno at Year’s End?

There is a scene in Tokyo that many people associate with the end of the year.

In Ameyoko, near Ueno Station, a slow-moving river of people fills the narrow streets.

I find myself joining that flow almost every December. And each time, I catch myself thinking:

Why am I here, really?

I’m not looking for anything in particular. I’m not shopping for New Year’s food. Still, as the year draws to a close, my feet somehow carry me here. The crowds are anything but comfortable, yet standing in the middle of them makes me feel it clearly: yes, the year is coming to an end.

This feeling probably isn’t mine alone. Even people who have never been to Tokyo often recognize the image of “Ameyoko at the end of the year.” Every December, the same footage appears on television and online, and over time it has become one of the scenes that symbolize the Japanese year-end itself.

A familiar year-end spectacle

In reality, Ameyoko at the end of December is crowded almost to its limits. That said, the congestion is not evenly spread across the entire area. The heaviest crowds tend to gather around the well-known stalls beneath the railway tracks near the main entrance. There, seafood and dried goods are piled high in front of shops, vendors shout out their prices, and security staff use loudspeakers to remind people to watch out for pickpockets, not to push, and not to bring large suitcases into the crowd.

From around December 27 to the 31st, as many as half a million people a day are said to pass through this area. It is far from a comfortable place to shop, and few would describe it as relaxing. Even so, the congestion itself has become part of the seasonal ritual. People now come not so much to buy things, but to experience that distinctive year-end atmosphere.

From black market to bustling street

The roots of Ameyoko go back to the chaotic years following World War II. Amid severe shortages, black markets naturally formed as people searched for everyday necessities.

The name “Ameyoko” is often said to come from ame (candy). At a time when sugar was scarce and people were starved for sweetness, candy was a rare and precious comfort. At the same time, the name also came to be associated with “America,” as goods flowing from U.S. military sources made their way into the area. Food, clothing, imported liquor, fine fountain pens, watches, and even gold and jewelry — it was said that almost anything of value could be found here.

Ueno Station shortly after its completion in 1932

The year-end season was especially busy. Ueno Station served as a major gateway for people traveling north, and many stopped by the stalls while waiting for their trains home. Over time, this steady flow of travelers became part of the neighborhood’s rhythm.

A market that supported everyday life

During Japan’s period of rapid economic growth, Ameyoko first functioned as a market that supported the daily lives of people living and working in Tokyo. Locals came to buy food and daily necessities, and the area was closely tied to ordinary urban life.

As the New Year approached, those returning to their hometowns would also join the crowds. Before heading home, many stopped by the simple stalls to shop.

They bought aramaki-zake — salted, preserved salmon — along with other New Year ingredients, clothing, and household goods. For traditional New Year dishes known as osechi, Ameyoko was a place where almost everything could be found in one visit.

Since many shops closed during the holidays, people tended to buy in bulk, making the crowds even denser. For merchants, this period was the most important time of the year. At that stage, Ameyoko’s role was very clear: it was a market that supported everyday life.

Changing lifestyles, changing roles

As Japanese society changed, so did the role of Ameyoko.

Distribution systems improved, supermarkets spread across the country, and daily groceries — including New Year’s items — became easy to buy close to home. The practical need to visit a large market at the end of the year gradually faded.

Transportation also changed. Although the Shinkansen still departs from Ueno toward northern Japan, travel times became much shorter. Overnight trains disappeared, and people gained more options: airplanes, highway buses, and private cars. The old image of year-end travelers concentrating in Ueno slowly began to fade.

In the process, Ameyoko shifted from being a place purely for shopping into one of Tokyo’s major tourist areas — a place where people enjoy shopping, eating, and wandering while soaking in its chaotic, distinctive atmosphere.

When the crowd itself becomes the attraction

Crab is one of the stars of Ameyoko at year’s end.

Even today, some locals, along with restaurant owners and other food professionals, still come to buy fish, fruit, or sweets. Expensive items like crab or salmon roe (Ikura) are often cheaper when purchased in larger quantities, and price negotiations remain a familiar part of the year-end scene.

But increasingly, people come simply to enjoy the mood — or to see the crowd itself. Rather than a place to prepare for New Year’s meals, Ameyoko has become a spot to experience “Tokyo at the end of the year.”

Every December, television and social media treat the crowds as a seasonal event. Visitors now include not only Japanese customers but also many international tourists. Sushi, seafood bowls, Chinese, Korean, and Middle Eastern food stalls line the streets, making it a place for casual eating as well as wandering.

In that sense, the atmosphere of Ameyoko itself has become a kind of content — something to be photographed, shared, and talked about.

A magnet that still pulls people in

There was a time during the pandemic when the crowds suddenly disappeared. Streets that had once overflowed with people fell strangely quiet. But that moment did not last. People gradually returned, and in recent years the growing number of international visitors has brought back a multilingual buzz to the area.

What draws people here now is not just shopping. It is the pull of the year-end atmosphere itself. Japanese and non-Japanese alike are drawn in for different reasons, yet they end up sharing the same crowded space.

The magnetic force of Ueno at the end of the year has changed its shape over time, but it has never truly disappeared — and it probably never will.

As for me, I remain one of those quietly drawn in by it. With no particular purpose, I walk through the crowd each December, letting the flow of people remind me that another year is coming to an end.