I'm Not Lion.

History lesson in a time capsule. With beer.

Tokyo, Japan — An elderly Japanese man staggers to the table, poking around our bench. He has obviously poured himself into his stein.

And now, his wallet is nowhere to be found.

The din of Ginza Lion Beer Hall is both aural and visual: green-tiled columns rise like fists set against red brick walls, framing a large glass tile mural of women harvesting barley. Stoic fountains stand sentry on the bar beneath bright fall leaves that have been windswept by laughter.

Frosted glass bulbs fall from the ceiling like bubbles.

Wooden chairs crunch against the floor as new groups of revellers order plates of pretzels and thin sausages to sop up the hefty glasses of straw- and peat-coloured lagers. A nearby table of men is far more animated than anyone I’ve seen in the city so far.

Revving up for a night in Ginza.

German beer hall kitsch to attract foreigners, maybe?

It turns out Ginza Lion Beer Hall is, in fact, the real deal. One of the few buildings to survive the bombings of WWII, it’s the country's oldest beer hall and has been slinging beer in trendy, upscale Ginza since 1934. It has also recently been designated as a Registered Tangible Cultural Property of Japan.

It's staggering how little it has changed since it first opened.

Having spent two-and-a-half hours commuting to and from the National Astronomical Observatory of Japan today, I hadn’t planned to go back out tonight. But good company, history and beer made the decision a wise one. So much for my edict to only eat Japanese food while I’m here.

Then again, this is obviously enough of an institution that it’s close enough.