Meet me at Hachiko

Friday night is date night, and Cindy and I met in Shibuya for some shopping. I understand weekend nights are usually pretty busy in this neighborhood, but with gift-buying season at its peak, it was particularly crowded. Pictures don't really do it justice; imagine Times Square in Manhattan, only bigger and more crowded (and more polite).

We decided to meet at the statue of Hachiko. Hachiko was a dog born in the 1920s--an Akita. The story is that he would come to meet his master at Shibuya station faithfully every evening. After a few years, the master died while away. The little dog kept coming to the station to wait for him every evening for years. He became famous as a symbol of loyalty. After the dog passed away, citizens commissioned a bronze statue to be placed at the station entrance. The statue was melted down for weapons during the austerity of WWII, but re-made in the years following. Since Hachiko is so well-known, and Shibuya station is a real labyrinth, the statue has become a favorite landmark and meeting place.

There is just one problem with a well-known meetingplace--you're not going to be the only ones using it. As the picture below shows, actually finding each other at Hachiko might not be as easy as it sounds.

But after a little searching, we linked up fine. We also met a group of youth from the Tokyo South Stake of our church. They were meeting to go carolling. C. J. was en route to join them.

We shopped for Christmas decorations at "Tokyu Hands," a large arts and crafts store, then strolled around looking at the decorations and getting to know the area a little.

In a remarkable coincidence among such throngs, we came across C. J. and some of the rest of the youth on their way to get something to eat after caroling. Cindy and I realized we had worked up quite an appetite ourselves. We wanted something we could sink our teeth into, so we tried a Kentucky Fried Chicken we came across.

The chicken was about what you'd expect from KFC, and certainly filling. One slight difference from the states was that they leave the chicken's foot on, connected to the drumstick. Cindy didn't care for this. The biscuits were interesting. They had a hole in the middle, like a doughnut. I don't know how to describe their texture well, but they were only vaguely like stateside biscuits. They came with maple-flavored pancake syrup to drizzle over them.

Things were still hopping in Shibuya when we left. We caught the Ginza subway line up to Aoyama Itchome ("Blue Mountain First Street"), changed for the Oedo line to our station, Azabu-Juban, and walked home. The trip only took about 30 minutes, even with the crowds.

We wonder if our Fritz is looking for us to come home, like Hachiko all those years ago...we miss him, and we're looking forward to seeing him in May.