If you have opened this article, it means you have failed to see, or blatantly ignored, my previous, wise warnings against the reckless pursuit of best things, particularly when they are located in a sprawling, overpopulated city called Tokyo. This is not a guide to happiness; it is merely a list of places where people – often too many people – congregate to briefly forget their troubles by spending large amounts of yen.

You may be drawn by the neon lights of Shinjuku or the promises of cultural fulfillment, but these are merely bright distractions. The punctual perfection of the train system only reminds you that your own life is hopelessly behind schedule. What follows are recommendations that will, with characteristic certainty, lead to unavoidable crowds, temporary pleasure, and eventual quiet disappointment. Read on, if you must, but do not pretend you were not told that all such journeys are futile.

Despite the tone, this guide is designed to help you plan your trip efficiently. All prices, hours, and logistical advice are accurate at the time of publication.

If this is your first stop in Japan, read this Travel Guide and Reality Check.

Best Things to See and Do in Tokyo (And Why They Might Disappoint You)

In any given metropolis, there is a list of Best Things to See and Do, an optimistic and misleading phrase that suggests these activities will be entirely delightful and without peril. Such a list, however, is merely a catalog of places where one can witness something curious, or perhaps even perform a curious deed oneself. One should approach this list with caution and a healthy dose of suspicion, as no one can truly promise that what you see and do will be anything but an experience of dreadful consequence.

While I endeavor to furnish you with the costs of regular adult admission for the various locales of interest, you must understand that the proprietors of these places will almost certainly offer lesser prices for children, students, the elderly, and other groups in order to make a simple transaction more complicated. You should also be aware of the Tokyo Pass, which permits free access to an alarming number of sights and the local public transportation. Similarly, the Tokyo City Pass offers access to some popular sights and unlimited Tokyo Metro access.

Architectural & Social Overload

These entries focus on massive structures or public spaces that induce sensory and social anxiety, emphasizing the city’s overwhelming scale and lack of peace.

Journey to Shibuya Crossing

Map

• What the guides say: This intersection is frequently identified as the most heavily utilized pedestrian crossing on the planet and features a large number of people walking simultaneously without colliding. When the signals permit, hundreds of individuals emerge from every corner to traverse the pavement beneath immense glowing screens. Observers often secure a beverage in an elevated building to witness the orderly movement of a vast human crowd.
• What they don’t tell you: You’ll find a terrifying vortex of humanity that spins and swirls like a tea-cup ride designed by a particularly sadistic engineer. This intersection, often lauded as the busiest in the world, is merely a highly visible reminder of just how many other people are breathing your air and walking toward your inevitable destination, whatever that dreary place may be. You will watch thousands of strangers cross in opposite directions, a movement which, when viewed from above (perhaps from a building you should not be in), resembles a flock of panic-stricken birds who have forgotten the basic instruction of flight.
• Go for: The world’s busiest intersection experience and the Hachiko statue.
• Cost: Free.
• Photography: For the best overhead shot, head to the second floor of the Starbucks or the Mag’s Park rooftop.
• Best Time: Friday or Saturday night when the neon is bright and the crowds are at their peak.
• Statistics: During a single light change, as many as 3,000 people cross at once.
• Verdict: You’ll dodge thousands of strangers just to realize you’re all headed nowhere special. 

Contemplate the stark, desolate heights of the Tokyo Skytree

Website | Map | Tickets

• What the guides say: At a height of 634 meters, this tower is the tallest edifice in Japan and a significant achievement in engineering. Its appearance combines modern industrial design with traditional color patterns. From its two viewing platforms, one can see the Kanto Plain; on days without cloud cover, the outline of Mount Fuji is visible against the horizon.
• What they don’t tell you: It’s a needle-like structure that pierces the already smoggy heavens. From this preposterously tall perch, you may gaze upon the vast, glittering expanse of the city, only to realize that every single glowing light signifies a building where something unfortunate is likely happening – a broken promise, a poorly cooked meal, or, most tragically, an unanswered letter. The view, which optimists would call breathtaking, is merely a panoramic tableau of the sheer impossibility of finding a quiet corner in which to mourn your many, many mistakes. 
• Go for: Unmatched views from the tallest structure in Japan.
• Cost: 2,100 – 3,100 yen (depends on how high you go and if it’s a weekend). Same-day tickets are more expensive.
• Planning Tip: Book Timed Entry tickets online to avoid waiting 2+ hours in line.
• Best Time: Late afternoon on a clear day; if you’re lucky, you can see Mount Fuji.
• Photography: Use a circular polarizer filter on your lens to cut the glare from the thick observatory glass.
• Verdict: Pay the altitude tax to see the smoggy horizon; the view of your own insignificance is worth every yen.

Descend into the infernally efficient network of the Tokyo Metro during rush hour

• What the guides say: Utilizing the subway system between the hours of 8:00 and 9:00 AM requires a high degree of patience. Employees known as oshiawasse are stationed on platforms to assist in fitting passengers into crowded train cars so that the doors may latch. It is a quiet event where individuals collectively ignore the absence of personal space in order to reach their places of employment.
• What they don’t tell you: This experience is less transportation and more a horrifying, temporary compression of your soul. You will be politely but firmly shoved into a compartment of human bodies pressed so close you can hear the dreadful palpitations of your neighbor’s heart, a sensation the locals call commuting, and which I call a sardine-tin simulation of eternal damnation.
• Go for: A firsthand look at Tokyo’s legendary efficiency and the shoves (though rare now).
• Cost: Approximately 180 – 330 yen (standard fare).
• Best Time: 8:00 AM – 9:00 AM on the Shinjuku or Yamanote lines.
• Be Considerate: Keep your backpack on your front to save space and be polite.
• Oshiya: Some stations still have Oshiya (pushers) whose job is to gently ensure everyone fits before the doors close.
• Verdict: Surrender your personal space; it’s a rite of passage.

Observe the sheer number of security cameras in public places

• What the guides say: While walking through districts such as Shinjuku, one will observe a high concentration of closed-circuit television cameras attached to various structures. Tokyo is statistically among the safest cities in the world, and this extensive surveillance is a primary component of its infrastructure. It serves as a clear example of a city prioritizing public monitoring for the sake of safety.
• What they don’t tell you: They are everywhere, watching, recording, a constant, low-grade thrum of surveillance that only confirms the uneasy truth that you are never, truly, unobserved, and that even in the most anonymous crowd, your singular existence is being filed away.
• Go for: A realization of why Tokyo is one of the safest cities in the world.
• Cost: Free.
• Smar City: Japan has a high density of cameras, but they are often integrated into smart city infrastructure for traffic flow.
• Look Around: Look up at street light poles and shop entrances – you’ll start seeing them everywhere.
• Verdict: A constant, unblinking reminder that you’re watched. It’s creepy, sure, but also the reason you can leave your wallet on a table and find it later.

Stroll through Ginza

Map

• What the guides say: This district is a center for expensive retail establishments, showrooms, and galleries. On the afternoons of Saturdays and Sundays, the primary road, Chuo-dori, is prohibited to vehicular traffic, allowing pedestrians to occupy the street. It is a location where one may find historical department stores like Mitsukoshi, which are noted for their specific style of customer service.
• What they don’t tell you: You’ll find a district where luxury goods are piled high, their exorbitant prices serving as a stark measure of the colossal wealth that will never, ever be yours. It is a place dedicated to the worship of expensive objects that you do not need, and a painful demonstration of the vast gulf between what you desire and what you can afford.
• Go for: High-end luxury shopping and stunning modern architecture.
• Cost: Free to walk (expensive to shop!).
• Best Time: Weekend afternoons (Sat/Sun) when the main street, Chuo-dori, is closed to cars and becomes a pedestrian paradise.
• Verdict: Go to feel poor in the most glamorous way possible; the air-conditioned window shopping is free.

Take a moment to observe the endless stream of salarymen in Shinbashi

Map

• What the guides say: Shinbashi is a district where one can observe a high volume of corporate employees, often referred to as salarymen. During the evening, many individuals in white shirts congregate in local izakayas. This concentration of office workers near the railway lines provides a factual look at the labor-focused lifestyle that sustains the local economy.
• What they don’t tell you: They’re all wearing the uniform of somber, ill-fitting suits. This is where you see the quiet, daily sacrifice of the individual to the monolithic needs of the collective, a sight more tragic than any Shakespearean play.
• Go for: A glitch in the Matrix visual of thousands of men in identical suits.
• Cost: Free.
• Best Time: 6:00 PM – 7:30 PM when offices let out.
• Photography: Use a slow shutter speed near the SL Square (the old steam engine) to capture the blur of the suits passing by.
• Verdict: It’s a depressing sea of conformity, but the post-work izakaya energy is weirdly infectious.

Attempt to find an empty seat in a popular cafe

• What the guides say: In popular areas of Tokyo, obtaining a table requires a specific strategy. It is common for a person to place an item, such as a bag, on a chair to indicate the spot is occupied before they proceed to the counter to pay. This practice demonstrates a high level of communal trust and is a standard part of the weekend routine for residents.
• What they don’t tell you: After a long, demoralizing search, you will be forced to wait, standing, awkwardly clutching your lukewarm beverage, a pathetic participant in the city’s relentless, silent competition for even the smallest space of comfort.
• Go for: A lesson in Japanese patience and the art of the queue.
• Cost: The price of a coffee (usually 500 – 800 yen).
• Planning Tip: Many popular cafes use a ticket system or a QR code waitlist; check the door before standing in line.
• Verdict: A brutal test of patience. You’ll stand awkwardly for thirty minutes, but that first sip of coffee tastes like a hard-won victory.

Relics & Frustrating Exclusions

These focus on historical or significant places that deny true intimacy, keeping the visitor at a frustrating and symbolic distance from the important truths they seek.

Wander the tranquil yet unsettling grounds of the Meiji Jingu Shrine

Website | Map

• What the guides say: This Shinto shrine is dedicated to Emperor Meiji and Empress Shoken and is located within a forest containing 100,000 trees. The grounds feature wide gravel walkways and large wooden gates known as torii. It is a site used for traditional Shinto wedding ceremonies and the placement of wooden tablets, called ema, upon which people write their goals.
• What they don’t tell you: Look for a vast forest carefully transplanted onto the city’s surface, a kind of temporary camouflage. You will be told that this is a place of peace, but remember that anything so painstakingly manicured is a thinly veiled attempt to conceal some deep, unpleasant truth. You will follow the path of solemn, oversized torii gates, which are essentially large, wooden reminders that you are an outsider, and that the history you are walking through is far older and far more complicated than your short attention span can appreciate. 
• Go for: A peaceful forest escape in the middle of the concrete jungle.
• Cost: Free.
• Best Time: Sunday morning; you might see a traditional Shinto wedding procession.
• Photography: The wall of decorative sake barrels (Kazaridaru) makes for a vibrant, iconic photo.
• Verdict: The gates are massive reminders of your outsider status, but the silence is the best free therapy in the city.

Explore the Imperial Palace East Garden

Website | Map

• What the guides say: These gardens occupy the land where the central part of Edo Castle once stood. Visitors can examine the large stones that formed the castle’s foundation and walk through the Ninomaru Garden, which contains trees from various Japanese provinces. The area is a maintained landscape situated near the tall buildings of the Marunouchi district.
• What they don’t tell you: It’s a small, preserved fragment of a vast history you can only admire from a frustrating distance. You are not allowed into the Palace itself, only the gardens, making it a perfect symbol of all the important, powerful secrets of the world to which you will forever be denied access. 
• Go for: Massive stone walls, moats, and the site of the former Edo Castle.
• Cost: Free.
• Planning Tip: The gardens are closed on Mondays and Fridays.
• Fire: You can see the foundation of the original castle tower, which was once the tallest in Japan before it burned down in 1657.
• Verdict: You’re only allowed to see the rocks, but even the Emperor’s leftovers are better than the street.

Walk along the Meguro River when it is not cherry blossom season

Map

• What the guides say: This waterway is notable for the hundreds of cherry trees, or sakura, that grow along its edges. During the flowering season, the branches form a canopy over the water. In the Nakameguro neighborhood, there are many small shops and temporary stalls. At night, the trees are lit by lanterns, which causes the petals to reflect upon the surface of the river.
• What they don’t tell you: Stripped of its fleeting, pink-and-white glory, the concrete channel is merely a drainage ditch, a sober, grayish reminder that beauty is temporal, and what remains is an infrastructure of unyielding utility.
• Go for: The most famous cherry blossom spot in Tokyo.
• Cost: Free.
• Best Time: Late March (Sakura season) or early winter for the pink LED light displays.
• Verdict: Without the flowers, it’s just a gutter, but it’s the only place to walk without a tourist elbowing your ribs.

Cramped Discomfort & Regrettable Vice

These entries highlight small, enclosed spaces that demand social awkwardness, financial exploitation, or a temporary, manufactured sense of intimacy or nostalgia.

Seek out the cramped, labyrinthine lanes of Shinjuku’s Golden Gai

Website | Map

• What the guides say: This area consists of six narrow pathways containing over 200 very small bars. Most of these establishments have a maximum capacity of five or six individuals and feature specific, often unusual, decorative themes. It is a preserved section of the city that has not been modernized, offering a very small-scale environment for social drinking.
• What they don’t tell you: This collection of tiny, ramshackle bars looks as if they should have been condemned decades ago, which they most certainly should have been. You will be expected to squeeze yourself into one of these dimly lit establishments, where you will pay an exorbitant fee for a small quantity of alcohol, all while being judged silently by the proprietor and a handful of local patrons. This experience, which some call atmospheric, is what I call a perfect demonstration of being willingly trapped in a place of mild, expensive discomfort, which is often the definition of a vacation.
• Go for: Six narrow alleys packed with over 200 tiny, themed hole-in-the-wall bars.
• Cost: Most bars have a 500 – 1,000 yen cover charge plus drinks.
• Planning Tip: Look for signs that say “English Welcome” to avoid accidentally walking into a regulars-only bar.
• Photography: Photos of the alleyways are fine, but many bars forbid interior photos to protect the privacy of patrons.
• Verdict: Dimly lit, ramshackle, and overpriced. You’ll be judged by the barman while pinned against a wall, but the moody discomfort is pure Tokyo magic.

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Walk down Memory Lane, or Omoide Yokocho

Website | Map

• What the guides say: Located near the Shinjuku railway tracks, this narrow alleyway contains many small stalls serving noodles and grilled meat, or yakitori. It is characterized by the scent of cooking and the light of red lanterns. It was established following the war and remains a popular location for employees to eat quickly after finishing their work.
• What they don’t tell you: This is an alleyway whose charming atmosphere conceals a history of smoke, black markets, and unsavory transactions. The name suggests pleasant recollection, but one glance at the sooty rafters and cramped quarters reminds one that memory is often a much darker and more uncomfortable place than we wish to admit.
• Go for: Smoky, delicious yakitori (grilled skewers) in a narrow piss alley.
• Cost: Approximately 2,000 – 3,000 yen for food and a drink.
• Best Time: Just after sunset when the red lanterns start to glow.
• The Name: It earned its nickname, Piss Alley, in the 1940s because it lacked toilets; today, it is perfectly clean.
• Verdict: It’s cramped and smells of postwar secrets, but the yakitori is worth the risk of a stained shirt. 

Enter a karaoke booth alone

• What the guides say: Hitokara is a term used to describe the act of singing alone in a rented, soundproof room. These facilities provide private consoles and food service, allowing an individual to practice music without the presence of others. It is a common method used by residents to alleviate the pressures of daily life.
• What they don’t tell you: After paying for a private space designed for raucous, communal joy, you will sing a song to an empty room, a profound exercise in solitude that highlights the awkward contrast between your chosen entertainment and your distinct lack of companionable misery.
• Go for: Hitokara (solo karaoke) – a judgment-free way to vent stress.
• Cost: Approximately 500 – 1,500 yen per hour (cheaper on weekdays).
• Singing Alone: Most chains have specific solo rates and even specialized, smaller booths.
• Planning Tip: Soft drinks are usually all-you-can-drink (nomihoudai) included in the price.
• Verdict: Sing your heart out to an empty room; it’s the only place where no one can hear you fail.

Fleeting, Processed, or Unsettling Consumption

These attractions revolve around food, but frame the act of eating as a brief, fleeting distraction, a solitary chore, or an encounter with the industrially grotesque.

Consume a bowl of ramen

• What the guides say: Tokyo contains a vast number of restaurants dedicated to ramen, a dish consisting of noodles in various types of broth. In many of these establishments, customers must purchase a ticket from a machine before sitting at a counter. The shops range from those recognized by culinary guides to small stalls where customers stand while they eat.
• What they don’t tell you: This dish is so omnipresent that it has become nearly impossible to avoid. This popular food is often served in narrow counter seating, forcing you to slurp your broth in silence alongside other equally isolated individuals. Though the broth may be rich and savory, and the noodles satisfyingly chewy, do not be fooled: you are simply participating in a brief, fleeting moment of nourishment before returning to the long, inevitable hunger that is life. This act, described in guidebooks as a culinary delight, is merely a temporary reprieve from starvation. 
• Go for: A quick, steaming bowl of culinary perfection.
• Cost: 800 – 1,200 yen.
• Additional Info/Tips: * Planning Tip: Most shops use a vending machine for tickets; put your money in first, then press the button.
• Fun Fact: Slurping your noodles is not just okay – it’s encouraged to aerate the flavors and show the chef you’re enjoying it.
• Try: Iruca Tokyo Roppongi (Website | Map) or Haruchan Ramen (Website | Map).
• Verdict: Eat in isolated silence at a counter; it’s a quick, delicious way to feel alone together.

Purchase a bizarre, brightly-colored crepe from a stall on Harajuku’s Takeshita Street

Website | Map

• What the guides say: On Takeshita Street, stalls sell thin pancakes that are rolled into a conical shape. These are filled with a variety of items such as fruit, cake, and whipped cream. They are a well-known street food intended to be eaten while the consumer walks through the various clothing boutiques in the area.
• What they don’t tell you: This confection, often stuffed with an improbable combination of cream, fruit, and perhaps even a questionable piece of cake, is a sugary metaphor for the ephemeral, sickly-sweet illusions of youth that one day will curdle into the bitter, inevitable reality of adulthood. It is a vacation. That is a fine excuse for anything.
• Go for: The quintessential Kawaii snack.
• Cost: 500 – 800 yen.
• Best Time: Weekday mornings to avoid the teenage stampede.
• Photography: Hold the crepe up against the Takeshita Street entrance sign for the “I was here” shot.
• Verdict: It’s a sickly-sweet metaphor for youth that will eventually melt, but it’s a fine excuse for a sugar high.

Seek out the Toyosu Market, the replacement for the storied Tsukiji

Website | Map | Tuna Auction Ticket Lottery

• What the guides say: This wholesale facility replaced the older Tsukiji market and is used for the distribution of seafood. From specific galleries, visitors can watch the early morning auctions of tuna. The quality of the fish is high, and the surrounding restaurants specialize in serving sushi for breakfast.
• What they don’t tell you: Here, among the enormous refrigerated warehouses, you can witness the cold, industrial reality of the global seafood trade, a process stripped of its romantic veneer. It is a monument to consumption, a place where a tremendous amount of life ends every morning so that a few people may have a fleeting, expensive breakfast.
• Go for: The world’s largest wholesale fish market (the successor to Tsukiji).
• Cost: Free to enter; sushi meals are 3,000 – 6,000 yen.
• Best Time: 5:00 AM if you want to see the tuna auction. 
• Planning Tip: You can see the tuna auction for free without reservations from the auction gallery, or you can enter the lottery to see it from the special observation deck. Tickets for the upcoming month are generally available through a lottery held for seven days during the first week of the preceding month.
• Verdict: An industrial monument to the end of sea life. Watch the tuna auction’s cold efficiency, then eat the freshest breakfast of your life.

Go to the basement food floor (depachika) of a major department store just before closing time

• What the guides say: The depachika is located in the basement of major department stores. Shortly before the store closes, employees apply stickers to the food packaging to indicate a reduction in price. This results in a period of rapid shopping as customers attempt to purchase high-quality meals, such as bento boxes, for less money.
• What they don’t tell you: There, you can witness the desperate, last-minute price slashing of the day’s delicacies, a flurry of commerce that sees expensive food sold for cheap, a morbid little auction that proves everything, even temporary indulgence, eventually loses its value.
• Go for: High-end food at massive discounts.
• Cost: 30% to 50% off original prices.
• Best Time: 30 – 60 minutes before the department store closes (usually around 7:00 PM or 7:30 PM).
• Planning Tip: Head to the Isetan (Shinjuku – Map | Website) or Mitsukoshi (Ginza – Map | Website) for the best selection.
• Verdict: A morbid little auction of discounted delicacies. Watch the price-slashing frenzy; it’s a high-stakes hunt for a high-end bento box.

Peculiarities, Absurdities, & Pointlessness

This category focuses on the bizarre, the overly engineered, and the utterly pointless destinations that expose the core absurdity of human endeavor and consumption.

Visit a themed animal café, such as one dedicated to cats, owls, or even hedgehogs

• What the guides say: These are establishments where customers pay to spend time with various animals, such as cats or owls. These businesses were created because many small apartments in the city do not allow residents to keep pets. It is advisable to visit locations that maintain specific standards for the health and treatment of the animals.
• What they don’t tell you: You will pay a fee for the brief, unsatisfying privilege of watching creatures who would prefer to be left alone, a poignant reminder that not every desperate plea for connection is answered, particularly when it involves small, sleepy mammals and sticky-fingered strangers. 
• Go for: Interacting with owls, otters, or capybaras (though cats are the classic choice).
• Cost: 1,000 – 2,500 yen for 30 – 60 minutes.
• Planning Tip: Please research the cafe’s animal welfare standards beforehand.
• Photography: Turn off your flash – it startles the animals.
• Try: Capy Neko Cafe Kichijoji (Map | Website) for capybara and cats, Chiku Chiku Cafe (Map | Website) for hedgehogs, or mipig cafe Harajuku Takeshita Street (Map | Website) for miniature pigs.
• Verdict: A desperate plea for connection with sleepy mammals. It’s a poignant, sticky-fingered experience, but the capybaras don’t mind your company.

Attempt to understand the inexplicable world of Gachapon vending machines

• What the guides say: These are vending machines that dispense a small plastic capsule containing a toy after a person inserts coins. They are found in large groups in districts like Akihabara. The items inside are often very detailed miniatures of everyday objects, anime characters, or household furniture.
• What they don’t tell you: Those brightly-colored orbs dispense tiny, plastic trinkets of questionable value. You will be tempted to waste your precious yen on these miniature frustrations, only to receive a duplicate toy or one you never wanted, a clear lesson that gambling, even for the smallest stakes, is a fool’s errand.
• Go for: High-quality, bizarre plastic toys in capsules.
• Cost: 200 – 500 yen per turn.
• Prizes: You can find everything from miniature furniture to tiny public phones.
• Verdict: You’ll waste your yen on duplicates of things you didn’t want, but the thrill of the turn is addictive.

Visit the Meguro Parasitological Museum, a place that is precisely what it sounds like

Website | Map

• What the guides say: This is the only museum in the world focused entirely on parasites. It is a small facility that contains various biological specimens, including a tapeworm that measures 8.8 meters in length. The museum shop sells items, such as keychains, that contain actual preserved parasites.
• What they don’t tell you: Here, you may observe the preserved horrors of various organisms that have taken up residence in the bodies of others, a perfect, stomach-churning reminder of the unseen, dreadful things that may be dwelling inside you at this very moment. 
• Go for: The world’s only museum dedicated to parasites. (It’s weirdly fascinating!)
• Cost: Free (donations encouraged).
• Planning Tip: It’s small; you only need about 45 minutes here.
• Verdict: See the 8.8-meter tapeworm for free; it’s a creepy, fascinating reminder of your own biology.

Contemplate the massive, imposing Unicorn Gundam statue in Odaiba

Website | Map

• What the guides say: This life-sized statue is located in Odaiba and represents a character from a popular animated series. At set times, the statue’s mechanical parts move and its internal lights change, a process known as a transformation. It serves as a large-scale example of the city’s interest in robotics.
• What they don’t tell you: This giant piece of fictional weaponry is a towering symbol of technological progress and national pride, yet it is utterly without purpose, a plastic god that stands staring out over Tokyo Bay toward an empty, consumerist horizon.
• Go for: A life-sized, transforming robot in Odaiba.
• Cost: Free.
• Best Time: Night. There are transformation shows every 30 minutes, where it lights up and moves.
• Photography: Stand as close as possible to the feet for a worm’s eye view to emphasize its 19-meter height.
• Verdict: A 19-meter plastic god of pointless progress. It serves no purpose, yet its nightly transformation is undeniably epic.

Wander aimlessly through teamLab Borderless

Website | Map | Tickets

• What the guides say: This is a museum where digital art is projected onto the walls, floors, and ceilings. The images are programmed to move between different rooms and change when a person touches them or stands near them. It is an environment designed to make the viewer feel as though they are inside the artwork itself.
• What they don’t tell you: You will find yourself in a perpetual labyrinth of digital gloom and glittering light. It is a profoundly unsettling place, a museum with no real walls, where art is constantly leaking from one room to the next, much like a poorly sealed jar of maple syrup. Flowers bloom in your teacup, and luminous koi are trodden upon by the careless populace, who, in their fervent pursuit of a cheerful picture, are oblivious to the imminent sensory overload.
• Go for: An immersive, digital art world with no boundaries.
• Cost: Approximately 3,600 – 5,600 yen, depending on the day.
• Planning Tip: Buy tickets online weeks in advance. 
• Dress Code: If you can, wear white clothes so the light projections stick to you in photos.
• Photography: Use Night Mode on your phone, but keep it steady; the art moves constantly.
• Verdict: You’ll be overwhelmed by luminous koi and sensory overload, but your photos will look spectacular.

Marvel at the intricate, often silent, mechanics of a high-tech Japanese toilet

• What the guides say: A washlet is a toilet equipped with several electronic features, including a seat that is kept warm and a system for spraying water. The control panels often have many buttons for different functions, such as deodorizing or playing artificial sounds. They are a standard feature in modern Japanese plumbing.
• What they don’t tell you: A common appliance, it is nevertheless a complex machine devoted entirely to the unpleasant biological necessities of existence, a baffling triumph of engineering over dignity.
• Go for: Warm seats, bidet sprays, and privacy noise buttons.
• Cost: Free (found in most malls and hotels).
• Sound Effects The Otohime (Sound Princess) button plays a flushing sound to mask any personal noises.
• Pro Tip: Don’t press the Stop button until you’re ready; the spray is very precise!
• Verdict: It’s a complex machine for an unpleasant task, but you’ll miss the warm seat when you leave.

View the Asahi Beer Hall in Asakusa

Website | Map

• What the guides say: This building in the Asakusa district features a large golden sculpture on its roof titled the Flamme d’Or. While it has a specific nickname among local residents due to its appearance, it was designed to represent a flame. Inside the building, there is a hall where the company’s beverages are served to the public.
• What they don’t tell you: Specifically, view the peculiar golden sculpture on its roof, which locals – with their characteristically brutal honesty – often refer to as The Golden Turd (Kin no Unko). It is a monument to misplaced corporate optimism, an expensive piece of modern art that serves only to remind you that even grand dreams can be reduced to an embarrassing, unseemly shape.
• Go for: The Golden Flame sculpture (affectionately called the Golden Poo by locals).
• Cost: Free to look; the cost of a beer if you go inside.
• Architecture: The building itself is designed to look like a glass of beer with a white foam top.
• Photography: Take the photo from across the Sumida River to get the Skytree and the Beer Hall in one frame.
• Verdict: Locals call it The Golden Poo, but it’s a landmark that proves even grand dreams can be weird.

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Attempt to throw away a piece of non-paper trash

• What the guides say: Finding a public waste bin in Tokyo is a difficult task, as they are not common. When a bin is located, it is usually divided into several compartments for specific materials, such as metal cans or plastic bottles. Consequently, it is common for people to carry their own refuse for a long distance until they find an appropriate place to discard it.
• What they don’t tell you: Due to the baffling scarcity of public receptacles, you will be forced to carry your refuse with you for an improbably long distance, the small, inconvenient burden serving as a physical manifestation of a problem – and all of life’s problems, for that matter – that you cannot simply make disappear.
• Go for: The ultimate challenge of finding a public trash can in Tokyo.
• Cost: Free (plus a lot of walking).
• Pro Tip: Look near vending machines – they almost always have a bin for bottles and cans. You can usually find trash bins in a combini.
• History: Public bins were removed in the 90s for security reasons; most Japanese people just carry their trash home.
• Verdict: You’ll carry your rubbish for miles like a penance, but the city’s cleanliness is your reward.

No matter how perfectly you follow these instructions, your visit to Tokyo will, like all grand enterprises, fade into a series of highly specific but ultimately meaningless recollections. You may have the photographs, the souvenirs, and the full stomach, but the profound realization remains: you cannot buy happiness, and you certainly cannot find permanent peace in a city that is simultaneously awake and indifferent.

Your search for the best things in Tokyo is now over, and your unfortunate trip is complete. The only true achievement left is to continue performing one’s duties, however dreary they may be, until one eventually stops.

Further Reading

If one is in search of a less dreadful and more pleasant perspective on Tokyo, a number of additional resources exist. These are, of course, presented with the understanding that such information is often a mere sugarcoating on a very bitter pill, and should be consumed with a healthy dose of suspicion. 

• GO TOKYO
• Japan National Tourism Organization – Tokyo
• “36 Hours in Tokyo: Things to Do and See” from The New York Times (Paywall)