Trying to hurry to arrive at the market early on a Saturday morning was a challenge for the two of us. But the pace was even more hectic at the market, which we got to around 7am (a Saturday-morning miracle!). What a mad, frantic, vivid place!
For every main sloshy aisle we crossed, we had to look both ways. Teeming throngs of fish mongers were pulling or pushing carts, or driving these tiny motorized trucks called ta-rays, all of them laden with fish of some sort. Dozens of times we were almost run over. We got beeped at and physically moved between shoulder-high stacks of seafood...some of it still flailing.
But amongst all of the chaos of needing to prepare for the wholesalers--who come around 9 a.m.--the mongers would still pause. Some even seemed to appreciate our incredulity. A few knowingly slowed down so I could take a shot. One man even posed the massive tuna carcass he was hacking (with the longest blade I’ve ever seen).
It was pretty gory, but still visually stunning. There were amazing colours. The deepest red squid in white containers. Crackled silver fish, white iced in blue boxes. And the mongers’ faces were so expressive. They had this incredible calmness about them, in the din of it all.
Supposedly, the market takes up 56 acres. Every day except Sunday, 2300 tonnes of fish end up there. Over 400 types of seafood are prepared for sale, leaving me to wonder how there can be anything left in the sea if THAT many fish come ONLY to Tokyo. I started feeling really bad for them--such beautiful creatures--after I got adjusted to the visual onslaught. Admittedly, it didn’t stop either of us from having an unbelievably fresh sushi breakfast.
Another quick fact – 60,000 people pass through the market each day. We pushed through a good chunk of them later on to get Colin’s delicious ramen lunch. He ate it at the standing counter, but almost everything around had been made into a table. The truck parked behind us on the street had an open back, packed with buckets. Even they had been covered with wood pieces for noodle-bowl resting. For us, it was perfect crowd-watching.