Inside, you can buy, um, unclothed vegetable dolls. (Do you think I got around the veggie-fetish googlers with that wording?)
Outside, riot police. I'm sure the problem can be solved with old man or glowy ghost toys. Collect all squatting positions!
Road barricades! The airport bus was late! (Late, in Tokyo!) We saw protests all weekend, except for in the English media. So we assumed they were for more women's rights and immigration, naturally.
Narita Airport was empty except for the Eva cardboard woman.
That's because everyone was at Shibuya.
Seaweed that tastes good!
In contrast to the limited spoken English, there is secret English known everywhere. The servers at this restaurant named each fish in English, including Sea Grunt.
Can you tell which one is sea grunt? The chef discussed the English spelling of "grunt" with the next table, in Japanese.
I was pretty proud of my okonomiyaki saucing.
Until Barry went all artsy on me. Luckily his art emphasizes his forehead too much.
In Japan, we had fancy vegetables with fluffy foam.
And mystical strawberries.
But it was just as good as the cheaper yakitori. They treat their chickens so well in Japan that their skin and hearts even taste good.
Hiroshi and Naoko introduced Barry to Hoppy, now in Red flavour. This is, unfortunately, the only picture of Hiroshi - his sweater in the background.
