Fish Frenzy: Tokyo Central Fish Market
Got up at 4:00 AM to visit the Tokyo Fish Market, and discovered the subway doesn't open until 5:00 AM.
Found a 24 hour soba place, and embarrassed myself in front of an amused family by trying to shut the door. Even the smallest shops in Tokyo have automatic doors.
Market was in full frenzy by the time I got there. Just getting in meant dodging cars and scooters and bikes; do NOT take the kids there! Your life is in your own hands; there are no warnings, no advice, no walkways for idiots, just fresh fish moving from boat to restaurant or home. Fast. Very fast.
Small vehicles with a container of gas (natural?) in front, a standing driver, and a plank surface behind hurl in random patterns through tiny paths between small shops with mountains of smaller sea creatures piled for sale. Noise. Chaos. I keep going, using old urban survival skills, following close behind people and vehicles who seem to know what they are doing, going in the direction that the carts loaded with fish are coming from.
I find a large warehouse, the floor covered with frozen tuna carcasses, many as large as a human, being labelled and moved as they are auctioned off to frantic bidders. A few tourists hover at the edges trying to stay out of the way as they snap pictures. I am too overwhelmed by the intensity and chaos; I'll come again and take pictures next time.
In the next warehouse, different kinds of fish are quickly taken and loaded by their buyers. In a third, workers are moving hundreds, no thousands of live fish into blue plastic buckets for transport; they put nets over the top to restrain the flopping fish from escaping.
I am breathless, overwhelmed, astounded. It seems the entire sea must be empty just for this one day of food for Tokyo.
Found a 24 hour soba place, and embarrassed myself in front of an amused family by trying to shut the door. Even the smallest shops in Tokyo have automatic doors.
Market was in full frenzy by the time I got there. Just getting in meant dodging cars and scooters and bikes; do NOT take the kids there! Your life is in your own hands; there are no warnings, no advice, no walkways for idiots, just fresh fish moving from boat to restaurant or home. Fast. Very fast.
Small vehicles with a container of gas (natural?) in front, a standing driver, and a plank surface behind hurl in random patterns through tiny paths between small shops with mountains of smaller sea creatures piled for sale. Noise. Chaos. I keep going, using old urban survival skills, following close behind people and vehicles who seem to know what they are doing, going in the direction that the carts loaded with fish are coming from.
I find a large warehouse, the floor covered with frozen tuna carcasses, many as large as a human, being labelled and moved as they are auctioned off to frantic bidders. A few tourists hover at the edges trying to stay out of the way as they snap pictures. I am too overwhelmed by the intensity and chaos; I'll come again and take pictures next time.
In the next warehouse, different kinds of fish are quickly taken and loaded by their buyers. In a third, workers are moving hundreds, no thousands of live fish into blue plastic buckets for transport; they put nets over the top to restrain the flopping fish from escaping.
I am breathless, overwhelmed, astounded. It seems the entire sea must be empty just for this one day of food for Tokyo.