The Kikyomon gate to the Imperial Palace in Tokyo.  Guided tours to part of the grounds of the palace start here.  You don't get into any of the buildings.  I had taken the train to Tokyo after class on the Friday afternoon and then overslept so I was too late to take the morning tour and I had a lunch date so I just pottered about outside and enjoyed people watching.

My lunch date was with Momo with whom I've been trying to speak Japanese via the internet for a couple of years.  I was very excited at the prospect.  We'd agreed to meet at Shibuya station but like many stations it's pretty big and has both overground and underground train services.  I couldn't find the exit A8 that she'd suggested we meet at for the very good reason that it's an exit to the Tokyo Metro bit of the station and I'd arrived there via Japan Rail.  Fortunately I'd given her my phone number so a couple of texts sorted it out and we met.

As we set off for lunch we paid a brief visit to Tokyo's equivalent of Greyfriars Bobby.  Hachiko spent years waiting at the station for his deceased master and thus earned himself a Wikipedia page.

I was also keen to see what's reckoned to be the world's busiest pedestrian crossings which are handily adjacent.  They've also got a Wikipedia page and now a pictorial entry in my blog.

 

Waiting for the green man

Off they go

Filling up nicely

The crowd swells

Still they come

Full up

Ready for the next lot

After that excitement we went up to the 12th floor of whatever building that was that I took the photos from, where the best monjayaki in Tokyo is said to be found.  Judging by the queue there may be some truth in that boast.  You are probably wondering what monjayaki is.  If I tell you it's similar to okonomiyaki you'll probably be none the wiser.  So here is a picture.

The mess sizzling on the hotplate is the monjayaki.  It's a delicious pancake mix full of your choice of ingredients.  I let Momo do the choosing and I don't remember what they were but it was all delicious.  As was the side dish that she's cutting up.  I'm afraid I don't even remember the name of that one. Okonomiyaki by the way is the same thing but with less liquid in the pancake batter.  It's delicious too. 

We had a nice chat over lunch, to the extent that I can chat in Japanese.  Then she had to go away to do some work and I was left to my own devices though with a couple of recommendations.

I wandered about the crowded Shibuya streets.  Not everyone was busy crossing roads.  A lot of girls dressed in what presumably is considered to be cute gear were handing out leaflets and engaging in conversation.  Advertising shows perhaps.  I took a couple of snaps.

 

Then I went to a slightly unusual park.  It's on top of a building and has a skateboard area, a football pitch, a climbing wall, grass and trees and a fine view of the railway lines below.  There was an "Earthday Creators Festival" going on, stalls selling this that and the other, including some very beautiful painted shoehorns.  There's a lot of taking off and putting on of shoes in Japan so there are many shoehorns about.  One in every hotel room for instance.  I was engaged by a couple of earnest schoolgirls who wanted to tell me (in excellent English) about some sustainable cotton t-shirts that could be carbon neutrally stamped with a photo of my choice.

Naturally I took a few snaps.

After tearing myself away from this jolly spot it started to get dark and I headed for Ginza which is an upmarket shopping and sluicing area. According to Wikipedia  "It is considered to be one of the most expensive, elegant, and luxurious city districts in the world."  An obvious place for me to spend some time.  I even did some shopping, a nice pink shirt from    

better known here as(but no more easily pronounced).

After my shopping of course I needed a coffee and went to the Shiseido Parlour Salon de Cafe, a very up-market spot where I had the cheapest up-market offering on their menu.

 Of the many beautiful shops I think I liked Dior best where I watched a girl and daddy (sugar or real who knows) leave the store accompanied by a sales person (I'm afraid I don't know what euphemism Dior employ to remove the hint of commerce from their sales people).  They got into their big black chauffeur driven BMW and were wished farewell with much bowing and scraping until their carriage vanished.

That was Saturday that was.