The first time I visited Tokyo on a rapid-fire 36-hour layover, one of my first stops was Chiyoda. (Although I didn’t really know it at the time.)
Like many first-time visitors, I ventured over to Chiyoda City to check out the Imperial Palace. Between that first visit and my next two, though, I discovered that there’s plenty more to see in this central Tokyo neighborhood than its famous palace.
On a map, Chiyoda doesn’t look like a single neighborhood so much as a ring drawn around what was once Edo Castle. A shrine anchors the north end of the area, the Imperial Palace grounds fill the middle, and a park closes out the south side. A yakitori alley under the train tracks picks up right where the park ends, forming Chiyoda’s border with glitzy Ginza.
My first trip to Tokyo kept me mostly grounded to the Imperial Palace. On my second (much longer) stop in the city, I realized that Chiyoda’s got a lot more going for it, and that much of it could be easily explored on foot.
If I wanted to make the most out of a day in Chiyoda on a first trip to Tokyo, here’s what I’d carve out time to see & do…
Exploring Chiyoda City in a day
Start at Yasukuni Shrine
While most Chiyoda itineraries begin near Tokyo Station, I’d start instead at the north end of the district at Yasukuni Shrine. It’s located less than ten minutes on foot from Kudanshita Station on the northern edge of the ward.
Emperor Meiji founded Yasukuni Shrine in 1869 to honor those who died fighting for Japan. Today, it enshrines close to 2.46 million people.
Although Yasukuni Shrine was one of the most beautiful temples & shrines I visited in Tokyo, it comes with a darker side. Among the enshrined are 14 convicted Class A war criminals from World War II, including former prime minister Hideki Tojo.
(This is why a visit here from a sitting prime minister still makes national headlines in Beijing and Seoul.)
Sitting on the shrine grounds, the Yushukan Museum opened in 1882 as Japan’s first Western-style museum. I should warn first-time visitors, however, that the museum doesn’t treat its subject matter evenly.
The Yushukan Museum doesn’t mention the Nanjing Massacre or most of the atrocities historians attribute to the Imperial Japanese Army during the war.
(I’d walk in aware of that rather than expecting a neutral account of the period, or otherwise just skip the museum.)
The shrine grounds themselves, from the towering bronze torii gate to the long gravel approach, are worth seeing regardless of where you land on the politics. Yasukuni Shrine is one of the most historically loaded few acres in the country.
Cut through Kitanomaru Park
From Yasukuni Shrine, it’s less than 10 minutes on foot to Kitanomaru Park. This park was once the northernmost section of the former Edo Castle itself. It served as a medicinal garden and residential compound for the Tokugawa family before becoming a military outpost for the Imperial Guard.
Two of Edo Castle’s original gates still stand in Kitanomaru Park.
Tayasu-mon Gate, the main entrance from Yasakuni Shrine and Kudanshita Station, was rebuilt in 1636. It’s the oldest surviving gate on the former castle grounds.
On the park’s east side, Shimizu-mon Gate was built in 1658. It once guarded the mansion of a Tokugawa branch family.
Both gates have been designated Important Cultural Properties since 1961. Both are still standing more or less as built, which is rare in Tokyo, a city that’s had to rebuild itself countless times after fires, earthquakes, and wars.
Walking through Tayasu-mon en route from the shrine, I’d stop to see its masugata design up close. It’s got two gates set at a right angle, built to trap anyone who got through the first one in a dead-end courtyard.
Inside Kitanomaru Park sits the Science Museum and its Clock Tower landmark. There’s also a scattering of Kawazu-zakura cherry trees that bloom nearly a month before Tokyo’s more famous Yoshino cherries. If you’re visiting in early February, this is one of the only places in Tokyo to see cherry blossoms in full bloom.
One of Kitanomaru Park’s biggest draws for tourists, though, is the Nippon Budokan. Although it was completed in September 1964 to host Olympic judo, the hall is even more famous for hosting something (or rather, someone) else: The Beatles.
Two years after it was built, The Beatles played five 30-minute shows at Nippon Budokan. And it did NOT go over well. Martial arts groups were furious. There were petitions, public protests, and even death threats over it.
The anger, however, did eventually come to pass. Those first concerts at the Budokan paved the way for other artists like ABBA, Bob Dylan, and Cheap Trick to perform, and even record well-known live albums here.
Even without planning to attend a show here, I’d set aside time to admire its architecture. Although I would hardly call it “stunning,” it’s an interesting mix of traditional Japanese architectural elements, inspired by Horyu-ji Temple in Nara, and modern Brutalist design.
Walk through the Imperial Palace East Garden
After wandering about Kitanomaru Park, I’d head to the park’s southern gate, Kita-Hanebashi Gate, to make my way into the Imperial Palace East Garden. Unlike the Imperial Palace itself, entry is free, and no reservation is required.
(I made this mistake on my first trip myself, but more on that in a sec…)
The only restriction I’d point out here is the timing. The Imperial Palace East Garden closes every Monday and Friday. It only opens at 9 am, and closes to visitors somewhere between 4 pm and 6 pm, depending on the season.
(If your Chiyoda itinerary falls into these days and times, I’d recommend skipping over to our next stop, Kokyo Gaien National Garden.)
The Edo Castle Ruins (map) mark where the castle’s keep once stood on the Honmaru lawn, at the top of the Imperial Palace East Garden. Its stone foundation (tenshudai) is still there.
It’s strange to stand on top of what was once the tallest castle tower in Japan and see nothing but grass and a low stone platform. The tower only stood for 19 years before a fire destroyed it in 1657. Nobody rebuilt it.
The Ninomaru Garden, lower down in the Imperial Palace East Garden, is a modern reconstruction based on historical plans from the time of Ieshige, the ninth Tokugawa shogun. It’s more manicured than anything else on this walk through Chiyoda City, built around ponds and stepping stones instead of an open lawn.
Suwa no Chaya Teahouse sits inside the garden, though it’s not as old as I first pegged it. Emperor Meiji had it built in 1912 on the palace’s western grounds. It wasn’t moved to its current spot in Ninomaru Garden until 1968.
(You can’t step inside, but I’d still slip over here to admire its austere, modest design.)
Two named slopes bookend Ninomaru Garden. Bairinzaka (Plum Tree Hill) blooms pink and white in late winter, while Momijiyama (Maple Hill) turns red and orange in November.
I’d budget at least an hour to wander around Ninomaru Garden, longer if the plum and cherry trees happen to be in bloom or the fall colors are out in full force.
Follow the moat to Kokyo Gaien National Garden
The walk between the Imperial Palace East Garden and Hibiya Park follows the same 5-kilometer loop that’s become one of Tokyo’s most popular running routes.
I’d take a walking pace over jogging, though. The real reason most first-timers slide over here is Nijubashi Bridge. And I definitely wouldn’t want to blow past it.
One of the most beautiful places to visit in Tokyo for first-time visitors, Nijubashi Bridge is the single most photographed view of the Imperial Palace. Almost nobody realizes it’s two separate bridges.
The stone bridge in front, Seimon Ishibashi, is what’s in every photo. (And the one I mistakenly thought was Nijubashi on my own first 1-day Tokyo itinerary.)
The steel bridge behind it, Seimon Tetsubashi, is technically the one the name “Nijubashi” refers to. (And, yeah, it’s still cool, but not as iconic as its stone sibling!)
Both bridges sit inside Kokyo Gaien National Garden, the open plaza between the Marunouchi area west of Tokyo Station and the palace moat. I’d budget real time here rather than snapping one photo and moving on.
(Besides, in my experience, getting that picture-perfect shot of Nijubashi takes some patience. Both times I ended up here, the crowds of tourists were insane. And I wasn’t even visiting in high season!)
Office workers from the nearby ministries run the loop at lunch. On a clear weekend with great weather, the path gets crowded enough that runners hold a strict counter-clockwise flow just to avoid colliding with each other.
(I’d try to plan my visit around these peak times to avoid the worst of the crowds.)
Sakuradamon Gate is a few minutes further south. Compared to other entrance gates I stepped through in the city (like the giant torii at Meiji Shrine), I can’t claim this one is quite as eye-catching. But I’d stop here specifically for the gate’s historical significance.
Ii Naosuke, the shogunate’s chief minister, was assassinated at Sakuradamon Gate in 1860 by samurai furious over trade treaties he’d signed with the West. Historians point to this event as the spark that led to the 250-year-old shogunate’s collapse eight years later.
Spend the afternoon in Hibiya Park
Located just south of Kokyo Gaien National Garden, Hibiya Park was Japan’s first Western-style public park. It opened in 1903, and the split personality of its design is the most interesting part of visiting, in my opinion.
About a quarter of Hibiya Park is a traditional Japanese water and mountain garden; the rest is lawns, flowerbeds, and wide carriage paths modeled on a German town square. (A purely European park apparently didn’t suit Japanese taste at the time.)
The oldest resident of Hibiya Park, a 500-year-old gingko tree, is the most interesting story I’ve heard about this popular spot.
Road planners wanted it cut down in 1899 to widen Hibiya Street. The park’s designer, Dr. Seiroku Honda, refused, vowing to save the tree “even if my head is put on a stake.”
He won, and moved the entire tree 450 meters to its current spot in 25 days. Locals still call it the kubi-kake gingko (the beheading gingko) after his vow.
While exploring Hibiya Park, I’d also keep my eye out for the crane fountain in Kumogata Pond. It’s the third-oldest fountain in Japan and the oldest still running in any Japanese city park.
Hibiya Matsumotoro, the park’s restaurant since 1903, still serves the same kind of Japanese-style Western food that was part of the park’s modernizing concept when it opened: hamburg steak, omelet rice, curry rice.
Today, a meal at Hibiya Matsumotoro runs at least ¥5,000 yen and needs a reservation. Despite the restaurant’s history, I’d personally save my money on this one, especially with what I have coming up to finish off the evening in Chiyoda…
Finish under the tracks in Yurakucho
So far, our Chiyoda walking tour has been filled with shrines, castle ruins, and a formal park. I can’t think of a better way to end the evening than in Yurakucho. It’s a complete twist compared to everything else we’ve seen today.
From Hibiya Park, it’s about a 10-minute walk to Yurakucho Station. Cross under the train tracks, and you’ll land in Gado-shita. It’s a run of izakaya and yakitori stalls occupying nearly 700 meters of the archways under the elevated JR Yamanote Line. Stopping here is one of my favorite things to do in Chiyoda.
Gado-shita grew up serving salarymen from the fancier districts right next door: Ginza, Hibiya, and Nihonbashi. Shimbashi Station opened nearby in 1872, and the neighborhood filled in around it after that.
Since the postwar years, Gado-shita has been a dedicated eating and drinking strip. And it still looks the part.
Smoke curls up between the tracks, grills fire at the mouth of each stall, and most people eat standing up because most joints have limited seating or none at all. Ginza is only a five-minute walk away, but it feels like a different city entirely.
I’d end the day in Yurakucho over anywhere else on this walk. Order a cold beer, indulge in a few juicy yakitori skewers, and listen to the trains rattling over your head every few minutes while you sip & eat with the after-work crowds.
Other places to visit in Chiyoda
Kanda Jimbocho
Unfortunately, I didn’t hear about Kanda Jimbocho until after my last trip to Tokyo. But if I were to return to Japan’s capital tomorrow, Chiyoda’s “book town” would be one of the first new places I’d land as a bona fide book lover.
I would have included Jimbocho in this Chiyoda walking tour itinerary if it weren’t for one fact: Most of the shops here don’t open until 10 am or 11 pm. These hours don’t exactly cooperate with the early start I envisioned to squeeze in all the must-see places to visit in Chiyoda.
Jimbocho became a book town almost by accident. Meiji University and several other schools moved in nearby during the Meiji period, and the district filled up with students. It left behind a legacy of hundreds of new and used bookstores packed within a couple of blocks.
If I had a little flexibility on when to go to Tokyo, I’d try to visit in October when the main street closes to cars for the Kanda Used Book Festival. That same stretch of time sees the Kanda Curry Grand Prix roll in, where Jimbocho’s more than 50 curry restaurants attempt to charm the taste buds of the local editor and professor crowds.
Marunouchi
On my first visit to Tokyo, I landed in Marunouchi without even realizing it. I skipped by it en route to Tokyo Imperial Palace after soaking up a few of Ginza’s attractions. During my second trip, once I had time to slow down, I realized what a mistake it was.
One of Tokyo’s most prestigious business districts, Marunouchi is the version of Chiyoda City built for people in suits. But there’s far more to it than just faceless office buildings.
My first stop on a walking route through Marunouchi would be the Tokyo Station Marunouchi Building. It’s one of the most interesting buildings I’ve seen in Tokyo, built in a distinctive red-brick Renaissance Revival style that’d feel more in place in Great Britain than in Japan.
While exploring the area, I’d also try to squeeze in a stop at the Shin-Marunouchi Building to take in the view from its open-air 7th-floor rooftop terrace, Marunouchi House.
Akihabara
Another personal favorite I needed to set aside for this walking tour is Akihabara. This neighborhood, just one JR stop north of Tokyo Station, is technically inside Chiyoda City. But I wouldn’t be doing it (or you) justice by trying to jam it into an already packed day.
Akihabara started as a black market for radio parts and salvaged electronics in the rubble after World War II. It stayed an electronics district for decades until it became the city’s epicenter for otaku and gaming culture.
I’d carve out at least a half-day to scroll through all the fun things to see & do in Akihabara, from exploring its anime shops to playing games at retro arcades to sipping a coffee at a maid cafe.
How to get to Chiyoda
Kudanshita Station, served by the Tozai Line, Toei Shinjuku Line, and Hanzomon Line, puts you closest to Yasukuni Shrine and Kitanomaru Park. Depending on the exit, it’s a five- to ten-minute walk to the starting point on our 1-day Chiyoda itinerary.
For the Imperial Palace East Garden, Otemachi Station works best. It’s one of the best-connected stations in the city, served by several metro lines including the Hibiya Line, Tozai Line, and Chiyoda Line.
Hibiya Park sits right next to Hibiya Station, served by the Hibiya Line, Chiyoda Line, and Toei Mita Line. Yurakucho is a few minutes farther on foot, or its own stop on the JR Yamanote Line and the Tokyo Metro Yurakucho Line, which puts you right at Gado-shita.
