Okay this title is getting old - Chiyoda and Ginza

Day 3. I love castles with their grandeur, their expansive grounds, their lurid histories, their excessive moats - you get the picture. The Imperial Palace promised all this and more. Our new shoes were making us feel really confident, and gave us the crazy idea to walk all the way to the Imperial Palace. In all this enthusiasm we didn’t check if it was open that day. Around 4.5 km of enjoyable walking later, we found out the hard way, that we should have done our research a little better. Yup, it was closed.

And how did we find out? By trying to find the entrance which seemed impossible. After a lot of wandering, we found a grounds personnel who informed us that it was closed. A few people took advantage of the quiet, choosing to have a quick coffee under the trees outside. Tokyo is cute like that. The Tokyo Imperial Palace is a historical oasis amidst towering, glitzy skyscrapers. Grey shingled turrets with their filigreed gables sing an enduring ballad amongst the unimaginative, repetitive autotune of glass and steel. A thick green moat holds on to the memory of a wild, bloodier time. Tall stone walls promise me wonders within, entreating me to do better (research) and be here when they can open their gates to me.

If we had done our research a little more (or at all), we’d have known that there are lovely neighbourhoods around the Imperial Palace. Jimbocho, for instance. A year later, I would read Days in the Morisaki Bookshop, and kick myself for not visiting the book district. So when we returned in 2025, I made it a point to go to Jimbocho. Even though most of the books are in Japanese, it’s nevertheless a magical maze of books, photogenic stores, vintage rock and roll magazines and manga.

But let us go back to 2023. When we didn’t know any better. We twiddled our thumbs, considering checking out the multiple museums around and then decided we’ll give Akihabara a try. The walk to Akihabara was extremely great for photos, provided your feet aren’t already pushed. Sorry about the stuck record feeling you’re about to have - but if I had done a bit of research instead of just wandering around, I’d have know how close we had gotten to Ochanomizu Station or Hijiri Bridge that’s quite popular for its distinctly coloured 3-metro train choreography.

Sometimes you can plan to go a really hyped-up place and it can leave you cold, simply because you’re not the audience at all. This is what Akihabara was to us. We went there thinking that the tech would be interesting. But we were not prepared for the culture shock in store.

To begin with, the hostess café culture left us electrified. A whole street of girls who looked like there were teleported from different universes, standing out in the street inviting you up to the cafés, was like whoaaa. Most of them looked so out of place - like little Bo Peep in littler and peepier skirts isn’t particularly someone I imagined having a drink with. Of these the maid cafes had me interested the most - people paid through their nose for some weird fantasy of having French (dressed) maids fawn all over them. Can you even imagine your bai doing this? Humans are so bizarre. We are the weirdest, basest, most deviant creatures there are and yet, we call anyone who conduct themselves outside the precincts of our moral compass, animals. My intrusive thoughts sometimes got the better of me during this short walk.

I did consider asking one them permission to photograph her. But it is a working person, however straight out a anime fetish fever dream she might appear. Asian women have been fetishised for centuries and yeah, it’s just one of things that keep the economy going. And going by how many girls are out there, business is good. Japan’s casual attitude to smut is a bit head-spinning. In konbinis a random mosey through the magazine section can cause your eyeballs to jolt right out of your skull in shocked surprise and roll towards the frozen desserts in a tearing hurry. Porn in plain sight when you just came in for snacks. Gravure idols or the naked models grace the cover of these extremely indiscreet magazines. Speaking of idols, the idol culture of young women dressed as provocative underage girls is another grey area that go into shades that are too dodgy to get into. Hentai tours come up in every Things To Do In Akihabara - and its absolutely problematic that there is a whole industry dedicated to sexualising women who look disturbingly like children. So in short, Akihabara made the prude in me quite weirded out. But the photographer-eye was at f-stop 1.8 - pupils dilated and wide open.

Though I wasn’t into anime back then and I am now, I still have iffy feelings about Akihabara. Also the many animal cafes that abound Tokyo. I’m not sure what part of the lonely human psyche decided it was a great idea to mix animal abuse and coffee! Intrusive thoughts aside, there is some great tech in Akihabar. And of course, we were due for our standard “check out the local camera shops” that we (Sahit) do abroad. And to Yodobashi Camera we went. The morning that had begun to look a little meh, redeemed itself as soon as we walked through those doors. Sahit was in seventh heaven. A happy clam among cameras. Yodobashi also has a well curated section of personal care - right from tech to things you dab on your face. While moseying through that section, I met an unexpected acquaintance from back home. Was funny to encounter Medimix soap on this side of the Bay of Bengal.

By now my feet had had it with this pretty much inconsequential day. I was ready to go back to the hotel and all I could think about soaking my feet in a bathtub that made my 5 foot 2 frame look gigantic. But no, Sahit was not having any of that. He was determined to save the day - at the cost of my tortured feet. He decided that we were to change two metros to watch Killers Of The Flowermoon. Not at just about any theatre - but at an IMAX, as any self respecting Scorsese fan would have it. “This movie won’t be releasing in theatres in Bangalore, Dannie.” - was his very compelling argument. I did the feet math - three hours of sitting, even if I had to work (and walk) hard for it. I grumbled agreement after considering making a bid for “separate evening plans”. But one look at his crestfallen movie nut face and I decided against it. And that’s how we found ourselves in an IMAX theatre watching this masterpiece with a handful of Tokyo’s chicest, movie critique-est, poker-faced Scorsese fan club. There were less than thirty people in the theatre and then there was us. Just as we were sitting down, taking account of the empty theatre, it hit us, that there was a high likelihood of us having had taken two metro changes to watch a Japanese dub - and that there would be no English subtitles because why and for whom would they have ENGLISH SUBTITLES in Japan. KUSO! (English Subtitle: SHIT!) We waited with bated breath to find out if Leonardo DiCaprio and Robert DiNiro would be speaking in Japanese - and Sahit exhaled quite audibly when the first English word was uttered.

The movie was long. And good. The feet were relaxed. The husband and the wife were happy. The husband deliberately waited till he got back to India to tell his wife about the prince’s ransom he paid for the tickets. By then it became “funny” part of the proverbial “someday this is going to be funny” story.

Dinner was at a cute place in Asakusa. We had sushi with a side of overheard gossip. A couple of spicy gays who were clearly on a tinder date. I almost choked on my sushi when French gay boy slagged off his previous Spanish date for being too *snobbish*. Snobbish about the superiority of Spanish cuisine. Un petit “C'est le camembert qui dit au roquefort qu'il pue”, non mon ami? The second half of the day worked really hard to make up for the non-starter first half.

.....………….

Day 4 was defined by day 3 - it had to redeem the first half of day 3. Sahit wasn’t all that crazy about the idea of going back to the Imperial Palace. But hey, he believes in the whole “happy wife, happy life” thing. And so we went. And it was gorgeous. It was lovely. It was.a day made for walking. Despite an early November morning, we barely needed our coats. The ruins of the main keep of the Edo castle looked quite forlorn. Still holding strong for its long gone five storeys like how humans are known to feel the responses of a phantom limb. Vestiges of this once powerful and expansive headquarters established by Ota Dokan in 1457 remain.

The sun was a child on a sugar high, playing furious, mercurial games with the maple leaves. One touch of the wind and they were gold constellations; another flurry and honeyed yellow is spilt everywhere; a dimpled sunbeam lets loose a fit of giggles, a ripple that turns these star-shaped leaves back to their original jade iridescence. All in the space of a breath. I could watch those games all day. Bedazzled by a bough. In a couple of weeks they would turn scarlet, but for now they waxed green and waned a whimsical gold. The palace grounds with their mysterious wooded paths, koi-and lily filled ponds, grand gates and fascinating buildings was a treat. So much “free range beauty”. Luxurious tree branches opened up, like curtains, to frame an ornamental gable - it was all straight out of a Ghibli movie.

In a quiet corner the Fujimi-yagura or the Fuji-view keep stood stoic, pretty mad about its view being obstructed by urbanisation. A tall steel skyscraper blocks the view of Mt. Fuji that this keep enjoyed from 1657. It stands tall, in defiance of the fate of most of its contemporaries - out of the 11 original towers, only three stand. it stands grim and tall, as if waiting for the day that it will see Fuji-san again.

Though I didnt know it then, a little research (gah I’m getting annoyed with this word) for wring this post, reveals that a cute little stone with some cute engraving that I had randomly photographed was in fact a sort of headstone, commemorating one of the bloodiest episodes in Japanese shogunate history. A great pine corridor stood in the place of this little stone, the stuff of legends, honour and inevitably, how it all culminated in bloodshed. In retrospect I understand why I felt so, “I feel like I’m in a grand church” feeling under those trees.

Early autumn was everywhere. A gasp of camellias blossomed within their waxy shadowy bushes - starlight in the night sky. Aesthetically conscious trees dogmatically stuck to the confines of their niwaki (Japanese cloud pruning). Wooded patches with their chatty natural-looking streams gave you feeling of being in a forest. What was manicured was manicured, what was wild felt wild. After a couple of hours of exploring, we stepped out of gate and, quite anticlimactically, that was it. One moment you were in the world of shoguns and samurais, and the next you, quite unceremoniously, were not.

I had seen a picture on google maps - almost postcard in a fairytale perfect a setting, which I hadn’t encountered yet. No way I was going to miss that - I went up to a security guard and showed him the picture. He peered at the picture and went in a very Japanese version of “Aahh of course you want to go the Nijūbashi Bridge.” And pointed me in the right direction. The right direction was a bit of a walk - and it was quite a warm day. But dear old Nijubashi Bridge was worth it. As if the romantic bridge with a castle hovering in the background wasn’t straight out a fantasy, a young weeping willow let down a veil of the purest jade - giving us the prettiest screen to look through.

Ginza is not very far from where we were. So we strolled away in that direction. We were not quite ready for capitalist, materialistic wonder that is Ginza. The sound of a powerful, ‘income of a prosperous village’ costing engine is the bass riff that forms that foundation of the background score of Ginza. It’s a great place to see some beautiful cars. People stand in queues outside luxury brand outlets - which in my opinion, defeats the purpose of being able to afford these brands. I stood in queue to buy train tickets. If I’m buying a bag for a lakh, I expect to be taken in a palanquin.

And thus, I have exposed the underbelly of my middleclass thinking. And I remain unrepentant. Every twist of my neck made me feel poorer and poorer. Until I twisted my neck in the direction of the Muji store. Six floors of glorious affordable luxury. A bakery thoughtfully placed at the entrance - so that you begin your foray into making a sizeable hole in your bank account with coffee and pastries. A carb-and caffeine fuelled start is an auspicious start. And you’ll need it because the crowd within is nothing to laugh at. The largest Muji store in the world deems that you will be sufficiently nourished for its, extensive and crowded, wonders.

Shopping at Muji deftly features in the Top 10 of my favourite things. Makes for a rather materialistic “These are a few of my favourite things” and don’t quite roll off the tongue like “snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes”. But those brown bags filled to the brim with quality Muji goodies certainly does it for me. We went nuts buying yummy stuff - from absurdly coloured (and delicious) sweets to rice crackers to mochis to cookies. Okay now I want to cry. We also love Muji clothing and stationery. Of course we left with bags groaning with stuff. While we were shuffling down Ginza’s fancy streets, a couple who were in massive hurry overtook us. And in the process, their one among their many Louis Vuitton shopping bags brushed against one among our many Muji bags. If there was some joke in there, it wasn’t lost on us. We giggled that their “brush” with us common folk reduced the fanciness of whatever was in that bag by 10%.

During our 2025 trip we wanted to check out the Tsutaya Bookstore - which brought us back to Ginza. It was located in the ritzy Ginza 6, a mall with all the fancy names and I wondered if the bookstore would be a bit too bougie for it be a bookstore. But it turned out to be one of the most delicious experiences. So many interesting titles. We picked up a couple of art books, a book on yokais and some design books. But if we weren't so dazzled by the other names, we would hung back and checked out the food scene. Ginza Six also has some great cafes and patisseries. Well, next time we’re definitely spending more time here.

Ginza has a lot more to offer than retail FOMO. There’s the Kabuki theatre with its very dramatic entrance - you’ll know it by its vintage facade that stands in contrast to the rest of facades dedicated to the material world. Art and capitalism in a strange but absolutely mutual benefitting embrace. The Seiko Museum, Itoya - a massive stationery store, the Uniqlo flagship store, the Onitsuka Tiger Store all bring the hoipolloi out here in droves. Ginza also has the largest Shiseido store, where you can do get a lipstick engraved for no extra cost - great for gifts. Also Shiseido price inside and outside Japan are two different things, the former being many a splendid thing.

On our way back to the hotel we bought our Shinkansen tickets to Kyoto. Looking back, I’m appalled at our confidence at just expecting to get tickets. We were to travel the next day. And if I knew back then what I know back now, I would have bust an artery with anxiety. But hey, you know what they say about ignorance being bliss and beginner’s luck and all. Lucky for us, it all worked out in our favour. We got our tickets without breaking into a sweat. It wasn’t for nothing that we had learnt to trust Tokyo.