This one’s almost too easy, so it doesn’t deserve a planning entry. Today we’re heading to the Meguro Parasitological Museum. Don’t ask how we decided this, just blame the internet.

Meguro is one of the 23 city wards of Tokyo, roughly south-south-west of The Exciting Bits (where we’re staying). As a result, it’s well-serviced by JR and the Metro, so getting here is dead simple. As if that weren’t enough, the museum has a guide in English for visitors.

We weren’t in a great hurry, having left the hotel around 11:00. Once we got off the train around midday it was a pleasant walk down Meguro-dori to the museum. The sun is out and there’s a light breeze – you could be forgiven for thinking it was autumn. Being a Tuesday, it’s business as usual and there are plenty of people about. It’s definitely nowhere near as bustling as Tokyo-proper, but it’s still distinctly city-ish. As always, there’s evidence of construction works here and there.

The bridge over Meguro river, along Meguro-dori not far from the station.

The museum itself is a tall but unassuming six-storey building, a little way up the hill past Yamate-dori. While its biggest claim to fame is being the world’s only parasitological museum, they’re also a serious research centre. As well as having a large catalogue of specimens, they perform studies and produce publications. Photography inside is a bit challenging, so you’ll have to trust me that there’s two whole floors of squirm-inducing parasites on display there.

The first floor is mostly samples of varying sizes preserved in jars of formalin or under perspex. They vary in size from “barely visible” up to “golly that’s quite large”, but it all pales in comparison to what you’ll find upstairs – behold the 8.8 metre ribbon they keep there to give visitors a real idea of just how long the world’s longest tapeworm is (it’s hard to appreciate the scale of the folded and preserved one on the wall). Along with this you’ll find light-up maps of where you’ll find other parasites around Japan, and an oddball selection of goods in their gift-shop. If you venture off into the other attached rooms you can find the original writings from the dude who opened the museum in 1953, and pioneered a lot of work in the field.

The museum is government-assisted, but otherwise relies on donations (entry is free). Seeing as you’ve come all the way out here, it’d be nice to make a donation.

Decidedly pleased that we’d not eaten earlier, we started heading back towards the station. We’re not averse to the local food (except Ast, who might die if he eats too much seafood), but we’re too lazy to be adventurous, so we ended up getting something oily at Mosburger before visiting the Lawsons next door.

Across the intersection from Lawsons we spotted a shrine on the way past. As fans of miko-related pursuits, this was worth a visit. As if to prove its adaptability and relevance, the Ohtori shrine has a driveway and can accomodate cars, suitable for the urban setting. Also curious was that there was noone to be found. Do attendants get lunch breaks..?

Ohtori seemed to have a lot more gold than other shrines we've seen. The sign on the left with the red stripe tells whether you'll have a lucky or an unlucky year, based on your birth-year.

An omikuji (fortune) vending machine - that'd explain why there's noone here. As Ast notes, miko robots are only a matter of time.

It’s a tranquil place, and we could have happily sat around relaxing for a while, but we had places to be. Next stop, Roppongi Hills.