Despite being Tokyo's fourth-busiest metro station and the portal to the renowned Ginza commercial district, Ginza Station maintains an unassuming street-level presence. The station's activities occur below ground within a network of walkways and platforms that extend through central Ginza and reach neighbouring stations. When asked about the location of Ginza Station, the answer is "everywhere." Over 30 exits quietly emerge onto the streets, distinguished solely by compact booths and signage bearing the Tokyo Metro brand. Previously, researching your exit was essential planning before venturing into the area; now, Google Maps has simplified navigation by utilising the best available data to identify the nearest exit for any destination with high accuracy. Although locating this exit in the labyrinthine station remains your task, the arrival process has become significantly more straightforward in the smartphone era.
Among the exits, the A1出口 deguchi (or A7 for step-free access) places you at the epicentre of Ginza's most iconic vista: the Seiko Clock Tower, perched atop the Wakō Building, facing the Mitsukoshi department store across the buzzing Ginza 4-Chōme intersection. In Tokyo, intersections often feature diagonally cut corners, creating what urban historian Jinnai Hidenobu describes as open, plaza-like spaces. This architectural approach dates back to the Tokugawa Period (1603–1868) when public life took place primarily on the streets, and results in the buildings on these corners becoming the intersection's four 'faces'. In 2024, perceiving an intersection like Ginza 4-Chōme as a plaza is challenging, given that nearly all its ground space is dedicated to vehicular traffic; nonetheless, the Wakō Building and Mitsukoshi still exemplify the faces analogy.
Together with these two commercial monuments, the high-concept architecture of European fashion houses along broad thoroughfares shapes the prevailing image of contemporary Ginza as an international luxury shopping destination, with tax-free goods in abundance for foreign passport holders. Ordinarily, I would hesitate to herald such a manifest beacon of consumerism as a favourite aspect of any city, but Ginza is an exception. There's particular intrigue in how the commercial element diverts attention, effectively cloaking the area's more refined, traditional facets. The elegance of Ginza hides in plain sight.
Within the taxonomy of Japanese tradition, the Shinto religion manifests in diverse forms across Tokyo. Grand shrines like Meiji Jingu are its most visible form, with the site comprising 70 hectares of manufactured forest and a famous avenue, Omotesandō, meaning "front approach", laid out as its dedicated entrance. Conversely, Shintoism also finds quieter expressions: small-scale shrines positioned discreetly behind office blocks, perched on rooftops, sheltered within schoolyards and integrated into shopping streets—hidden among high-rises and along alleyways. Together, these represent a substantial portion of approximately 1500 shrines in the city. The term pawā supotto, or "power spot," in use for about 30 years, designates places believed to be wellsprings of spiritual energy. These spots might be Shinto shrines or Buddhist temples, but the term includes sacred mountains, hot springs, waterfalls, and forests. However, since hearing the phrase, I've always felt that it best captures the essence of Tokyo's myriad tiny urban shrines—unexpectedly intense pockets of tranquillity amid the relentless activity of the metropolis.
Religious buildings are generally enclosed structures that necessitate deliberate entry. In contrast, Shinto shrines invite reflection without the need to go indoors. Often, a freestanding torii gate alone delineates the boundary between the shrine and the external world, typically composed of two vertical pillars (hashira 柱) supporting two horizontal beams (kasagi 笠木 and shimaki 島木). Positioned always in the open air is the saisen-bako (賽銭箱), the box where offerings are placed and in front of which prayers are made. Entry is unhindered, and in this manner, urban shrines function as waypoints, offering brief, effortless stops on the way to other activities. From my perspective, such frequent, unassuming opportunities for introspection and connection with the cosmos are notably absent in most other large cities.
Amidst Ginza's commercial cornucopia are thirteen such spots of divine quietude, known collectively as the Ginza Hatchō Shrines. These shrines, uniformly diminutive, are tucked into surprising locations throughout Ginza. For instance, Kumagai Inari occupies a space the size of an ATM booth beneath the outdoor staircase of a hotel, flanked by a Chinese restaurant on one side and a 7-Eleven on the other. Meanwhile, Ryūkō Fudōson sits in a miniature Japanese garden on the roof of Matsuya, one of Ginza's biggest department stores. The focus of prayer at the Hatchō Shrines is often characteristic of Ginza; besides good health or calamity protection, you may well pray for commercial success in the fashion industry or good fortune in show business.
The area now known as Ginza was originally a low-lying region at the tip of a peninsula called Edo-mae-jima, extending into Tokyo Bay. In 1603, Tokugawa Ieyasu relocated the silver mint to what is now Ginza 2-chōme. Officially named Shin Ryо̄gaechо̄ (新両替町), meaning "new money exchange town", it was distinct from Ryо̄gaechо̄, the original name given to Nihonbashi, Edo's financial centre. As Shin Ryо̄gaechо̄ prospered, accommodating various businesses and wealthy residences, the nickname "Ginza" (銀座) emerged, derived from 銀 (Gin), meaning "silver" and 座 (Za), meaning "seat" or "place." With the growing population, shrines were established in Ginza's neighbourhoods for samurai and affluent officials. Although the mint relocated to Nihonbashi in 1800, the name Ginza endured.
In 1872, a massive fire broke out from present-day Ōtemachi to Kyōbashi, causing extensive destruction to Ginza. In response, the Meiji government initiated a plan to improve Tokyo's fire resistance by reconstructing Ginza as a "brick town," symbolising the nation's embrace of Westernisation. By the 1920s, Ginza had become a thriving commercial and cultural hub. However, a familiar pattern of destruction and reconstruction followed: the Great Kanto Earthquake of 1923 and World War II inflicted severe damage on the area. After the war, Ginza was rebuilt once more, establishing the foundation for its current form. The post-war economic boom of the 1960s and 1970s further secured the area's status as a premier shopping and entertainment district.
Urban development took precedence in Ginza as new buildings and roads emerged, and land value rose. The area's shrines adapted by becoming more compact, creatively coexisting within the city environment. Each of the thirteen shrines has a distinctive backstory, but for our purposes today, I'll mainly be extolling their utility as a framework for exploring Ginza. The Hatchō Shrines act as practical milestones, guiding an exploration of Ginza with intent, covering its quieter corners while ensuring none of its travel guide highlights are missed. The Ginza Hatchō shrines are not a secret—but it is surprising how few people you'll encounter following the same path. It is an alternative slipstream within the tourist crowd, like being invisible.
The shrines are listed below. I've also organised them on a Google Map linked at the bottom of the newsletter, which includes some coffee shops and other points of interest.
- Saiwai Inari
- Ryūkō Fudōson
- Asahi Inari
- Hoju Inari
- Hodo Inari
- Ginza Shusse Jizoson
- Kabuki Inari
- Azuma Inari
- Kakugo Inari
- Toyoiwa Inari
- Kumagai Inari
Two shrines have been omitted from the list as they are only accessible to the public during the official Hatchō Shrines tour, which occurs annually in November. Those are:
- Ginza Inari: inside the Ginza Trecious building
- Seiko Inari: inside Shiseido's corporate headquarters
Our walk begins at Ginza Station, either at Exit A1 or Exit A7. Ginza consists of eight long chōme blocks, ranging from 1-Chōme in the northeast, bordering Kyōbashi, to 8-Chōme in the southwest, towards Tsukiji. The famous 4-Chōme intersection lies centrally between 4-Chōme and 5-Chōme, with Tokyo Metropolitan Route 304 (Harumi-dōri) dividing the area from north to south. Ginza-dōri, a stretch of Chuo-dōri, intersects with Harumi-dōri, further dividing the district into quarters. Within each quarter, smaller, more tranquil streets, which are more enjoyable to walk than the main thoroughfares, are arranged in ladder-like formations and occasionally connected by narrow alleys and passageways.
After taking in the spectacle of the 4-Chōme intersection, we set a course for the first milestone, Azuma Inari, crossing the road toward Ginza Place. This building, wrapped in white latticework, was designed by Klein Dytham Architecture + TAISEI DESIGN and is the intersection's newest face. The former location of the San-ai Dream Centre stands opposite; it is currently a deconstruction site. Shortly, we'll exit the main road, turning right onto Azuma-dōri, a partially shōtengai-like street that is tempting to explore. A covered passage named Ginza Alleyway stands opposite the brick facade of Tricolore, a refined coffee shop in business since 1936. However, our focus is Mihara Koji, a picturesque lane on the left, marked by two standing lanterns and a row of red flags. Just inside sits Azuma Inari, a fire prevention shrine. Following World War II, this area experienced numerous fires, and upon investigating the cause, people found that the location had once been home to an Inari Shrine. It is theorised that local business owners came together to rebuild this shrine in hopes of changing their fortunes.
Following Mihara Koji to its end, we exit onto Mihara-dori, passing under an archway decorated with slightly retro, handwritten-style characters. Heading southwest, you'll pass Ramen Takahashi on the left, my go-to ramen spot in Ginza. Recently, queuing has been necessary, but the wait is never long, and it's worth it for the shop's signature sardine-based broth, which is lighter than the pork-based broths offered by vendors like Kyūshu Jangara, located a little further down the road and typically featuring a far longer, tourist-heavy queue. Jangara's ramen is excellent, but I'd be unlikely to queue at the Ginza branch when the Akasaka branch is usually queue-free at any time of day.
Resisting the temptation to stop for ramen so soon, we'll continue until we reach Miyuki-dōri, which intersects with Mihara-dōri. GINZA SIX, Ginza's newest shopping centre, stands on the right, with most of its units occupied by international super brands. However, atop the oblong, glass-fronted building is a roof garden that houses our second milestone, Kakugo Inari. Originally located on the roof of the Matsuzakaya Department Store, which opened in December 1924, the shrine dates back to the early 19th century and was relocated to the roof of the eight-story department store in 1929. When the Matsuzakaya Ginza store closed in 2013, the shrine was moved to the roof of the Ginza Six Building, constructed on the former site of the department store, which opened in 2017. If you don't feel the urge to enter a shopping centre at this point, you could skip Kakugo Inari. Still, aside from experiencing a sky shrine, there is another temptation inside GINZA SIX: the Ginza branch of Tsutaya Books. I'm always drawn in by its range of meticulously curated and well-presented art, design, photography, and culture publications.
Exiting GINZA SIX and making our way back to Mihara-dori, we'll follow the shopping centre's perimeter southwest before briefly turning onto the memorably named 中京615号 (Nakagyō 615-gō). A narrow side street is marked by a collection of Shōwa Era shops on the corner, including a florist, a tobacconist, and Okada Kameya, which supplies the clubs and bars of Ginza with luxurious crackers. The shop was featured on the NHK programme Document 72 Hours and briefly surged in popularity, but it's safe to say you can now enter without queuing to pick up a bag of senbei rice crackers to recreate the snack bar experience at home. While it may appear unremarkable, clusters of establishments like these are dwindling in Ginza, so I like to linger here and take a photograph or two.
Turning right at the corner and venturing along the adjoining Nakagyō 430-gō, we arrive at a 7-Eleven for any growing convenience store needs. Towering above is Hotel Musse Ginza Meitetsu, under which you'll encounter Kumagai Inari a few metres along Hanatsubaki-dōri. A quaint wooden torii gate stands before the ATM machine-sized lot I mentioned earlier, between the hotel and a Chinese restaurant. Kumagai Inari is moveable in a manner that fits only the most urban shrines. The hotel's power switchboard is behind the shrine, requiring it to be wheeled out for access occasionally. Kumagai Inari's origins have been linked to Kumagai no Jirō Naozane, a warrior from the Heian Period (794–1185). Against expectations, Hachiman, one of Japan's most famous Shinto deities, often called the god of war, is enshrined in this tiny space. In contrast, for those interested in infrastructure design and engineering feats, Shōwa Ginza Hodokyō, also known as Ginza Tokimeki Bridge, is just a few minutes' walk southeast along Hanatsubaki-dōri. I detailed this marvel in a travelogue newsletter a few weeks ago.
Having completed the southeast quarter's shrines, we must now cross over the Harumi-dōri thoroughfare, highlighted by the Ginza Shiseido Building at the crossroads with Hanatsubaki-dōri. This building houses the Shiseido Gallery and Shiseido Parlour Salon De Café, probably the most regal setting to enjoy a plate of omurice in the city, along with fruit sandwiches, parfaits, and other retro confections. Passing Shiseido puts us in the vicinity of Toyoiwa Inari, the Hatchō Shrine that arguably elicits the most wonder. This micro shrine lives inside an extremely narrow L-shaped passage between buildings linking Suzuran-dōri and Hanatsubaki-dōri, marked only by a discreet stone pillar at either end. The passage seems more of an incidental gap, never intended for people. Despite our knowledge of innovative space usage in Tokyo, it's hard to imagine a shrine in such a space, enshrouded by cables, piping, and extractor fans, until you see it. It would be a risky place to be caught praying during an earthquake. For the fullest experience of these limited quarters, I suggest entry from Hanatsubaki-dōri, through the gap immediately after Fukuhara Ginza, the tall structure on the right.
Worshippers from the performing arts have frequented Toyoiwa Inari since the Taishō Era (1912–1926), most notably the kabuki actor Uzaemon Ichimura XV, who visited to pray for success in his career. More recently, Tamori, one of Japan's best-known television comedians, introduced Toyoiwa Inari on Bura Tamori, a program in which he explores various cities and areas alongside experts, examining the locations' terrain, history, culture, and civil engineering. The show's title is derived from the Japanese word burabura, meaning wandering about, rambling, or strolling around. Burabura-ing around Ginza, as we are today, is such a notable activity that a portmanteau, Ginbura, exists solely to describe it.
Toyoiwa Inari features two Inari foxes standing before a shutter on the side of Ginza 108—the six-story 1990s office building forming one side of the alleyway—that opens to reveal the altar. Although the space is too restricted for a torii gate, other Shinto shrine essentials are present: a suzu bell (suzu 鈴), a stone basin (temizu bachi 手水鉢 ), hanging folded papers (orizuru 折り紙), and a pedestal (kumotsudai 供物台) for placing offerings to the deities. The walls and doors are painted vermillion red, imparting a Shinto aesthetic to Ginza 108's underbelly. A string of lanterns lights the way, accompanied by vertical flags bearing the shrine's name. It might just be my taste in urban spirituality, but I feel as much mystique standing in this cavernous space as I do in front of Fushimi Inari Taisha in Kyoto.
Owing to its unique location, Toyoiwa Inari is relatively well-known. Urban historian Satoshi Okamoto, a regular guest on Bura Tamori, has written about the shrine, and it is included in artist Shinji Tsuchimochi's 100 Contemporary Views of Tokyo. Shikiko Sakurai, a widely published author on Shintoism, has also featured it in her works. You'll likely find domestic tourists and members of Ginza's daytime population stopping by to pray. If you find the passage occupied, it is polite to take your time and wait for whoever is using the shrine to finish before you approach and avoid lingering too long if others are waiting.
With the highlight milestone of part one of our Ginbura framework visited, it might be time for refreshments. I have two nearby suggestions for you. Firstly, back on Harumi-dōri, the main road from where we came, stands Café Paulista. I've discussed Paulista in past newsletters—it is the longest-established kissaten in Japan. While it may not have the unique quirk of some smaller-scale kissaten, Paulista delivers on the fundamentals and is a historical point of reference. Alternatively, in the other direction along Hanatsubaki-dōri, you'll eventually meet Sotobori-dōri, a main road frequently encountered during travels around central Tokyo, as it is a ring road that follows the moat of the Imperial Palace. Directly across Sotobori-dōri, one of my favourite kissaten, Ginza Ranzu, awaits.
I'm uncertain whether others would rate it as highly. Still, Ginza Ranzu holds a special place for me as the kissa where I first realised that exploring and documenting these classic coffee shops was something I wanted to pursue. The decor is splendid, the blend coffee is reliable, and there are very few bad seats in the house. This small chain has been in business since 1969, with branches in Kamata and Akihabara, and first gained attention for its iced coffee float. However, a warning: Ranzu is proudly an all-smoking establishment. While smokers aren't always present, at times, clouds of smoke might rise from tables of sophisticated older women or drift across the room from salarymen partaking in a post-lunch coffee and cigarette. I dislike breathing in smoke and having the odour cling to my clothes, but on the other hand, it contributes to a certain authenticity that I appreciate. Still, I'm from a generation that recalls smoking inside British pubs, so my smoke resistance might be elevated. I caution against going to Ranzu if it might make you feel unwell.
Emerging from Toyoiwa Inari onto Suzuran-dōri presents another detour opportunity. Suzuran connects to Komparu-dōri to the southwest, at the end of which you'll find the Ginza Brick Town Monument, searchable only as 銀座煉瓦街の碑 (Ginza Renga Machi no Ishibumi). This discrete monument is constructed of bricks from one of Ginza's original brick town buildings and, to my knowledge, is the only place in the district where you can touch this historic material. The owner of a nearby clothing store witnessed the deconstruction of one of the area's last redbrick buildings and rushed to the site to reclaim the rubble. He later preserved the bricks in monument format. On Komparu-dōri, you'll also pass Komparu-yu, one of Ginza's few sento bathhouses. I've never visited, but it has a playful exterior, and I often see tourists passing in and out, suggesting that it is a foreigner-friendly place to enjoy a hot bath, surrounded by the charm of Ginza.
Resuming the trail from Toyoiwa Inari, it's time for a stroll along Suzuran-dōri. You can read about the storied history of this shopping street name in a previous newsletter about shōtengai arcades, which I'll link at the end. Where Suzuran intersects with Konjusha-dōri, you'll find Ginza Graphic Gallery unassumingly situated on the corner. Known as GGG, this gallery was established by Dai Nippon Printing Co. in 1986 and is the only gallery in Ginza dedicated exclusively to graphic design. Exhibitions are frequently updated and always worthwhile—the last time I passed by, there was an exhibition by the Tokyo Type Directors Club in progress. Admission is free, making it a recommended stop for those with even a passing interest in design.
Continuing straight, we arrive at the junction with Miyuki-dōri, marked by Suzuran-dōri's arches adorned with whimsical, multi-coloured typography. Making a left, it is worth strolling along Miyuki-dōri for a short distance. This street gained historical significance in the summer of 1964 with the emergence of the Miyuki-zoku, a youth subculture named after the street. These teenagers adopted an American Ivy League style, featuring button-down shirts, Bermuda shorts, and VAN-branded bags. Gathering around Miyuki-dōri, they embodied a form of alternative self-expression that was initially seen as harmless but later faced backlash from shopkeepers and authorities, especially as Tokyo prepared for the 1964 Olympics. Today, there is no trace of Miyuki-zoku on Miyuki-dōri, and their existence was brief. Still, they left a lasting impact on Japanese fashion, with periodic resurgences of the Ivy style in contemporary trends. Their story is chronicled in exquisite detail by David W. Marx in Ametora, his history of post-war Japanese fashion.
Along a nearby side street named Ginza West 5th, you'll find Restaurant Azuma, my favourite place to indulge in yōshoku in Ginza. Established in 1946, the shop retains its original Shōwa Era feel. It offers a less refined experience of similar cuisine to Shiseido Parlour Salon de Café. The service is gruff, bordering on unfriendly, and signature dishes like the hambāgu and ebi furai topped omurice make for a hefty lunch, but I can abide by it on high step count days. I imagine Miyuki-zoku members frequenting Restaurant Azuma when they needed refuelling and a break from loitering the streets and looking sharp.
Our stroll along Miyuki-dōri continues until we reach Namiki-dōri. The name Namiki refers to rows of trees, and indeed, Namiki-dōri is pleasantly lined with linden trees. Ginza features several streets with distinctive tree-lined avenues, including Ginza Sakura-dōri (cherry blossom street), Ginza Yanagi-dōri (weeping willow street), and Ginza Marronnier-dōri (horse chestnut street). Amidst the greenery, a narrow left-hand turn leads to a discrete staircase descending to Antique Cafe Kazuma Coffee, a refined kissaten in case you skipped coffee earlier or need another dose of caffeine to recover from your ebi furai. At the end of this segment of Namiki-dōri, we find ourselves back on the Harumi-dōri thoroughfare where our walk began, this time by B4 and B5, another pair of Ginza Station's innumerable exits.
That concludes our walk around Ginza's south side. We Ginbura'd 5-, 6-, 7-, and 8-chōme and visited our first four Hatchō Shrines. That is all we have time for today, so please join me next time for part two of this mini-series, where we'll continue our exploration of the chōme blocks north of Harumi-dōri and visit the remaining seven Hatchō Shrines. Before parting ways, I want to revisit the instructions for performing the ritual of ni-rei ni-hakushu ichi-rei, or 'two bows, two claps, and one bow', for anyone interested in engaging with the shrines in this traditional way. I initially provided the steps in my walking guide to Kagurazaka. Here's how the ritual typically unfolds, once more.
After placing a monetary offering into the saisen-bako offertory box, and gently ringing the suzu bell (if there is one):
Bow Twice (Ni-rei): The worshipper starts by bowing deeply twice at the waist. This act of bowing is a sign of respect and humility before the kami (god or deity).
Clap Twice (Ni-hakushu): After the bows, the worshipper claps their hands twice at chest level. The clapping is meant to attract the kami's attention and dispel negative energies or evil spirits.
Moment of Silence: Following the claps, there is a moment of silence. During this time, the worshipper may pray or silently make a wish.
Bow Once Again (Ichi-rei): The ritual concludes with one more deep bow. This final bow signifies gratitude and respect, marking the end of the prayer and the worshippers' departure from the kami's presence.
Until we meet in Ginza,
AJ
Links
Ginbura Framework Google Map
Ametora: How Japan Saved American Style
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Kissaten at the Kōsaten
All Along the Shotengai
Tokyo's Hanamachi Parisienne
Tokyo Memorandum: Week Three