Tsukiji Fish Market

What's not to love about a giant fish head?

The Tsukiji Fish Market is the largest in the world. I’ve been told the best time to take a tour of the place is the day after you arrive. You’ll be ready to make the early morning journey to the market because of your jet lag. Early morning starts at 3:30 am. That’s when the fishermen auction off their tuna. I botched my first attempt to find the market after I arrived. I thought I had lost my window of opportunity, but I woke up at 6 am on Thursday morning ready to try again.

Like, Akihabara I thought it would be more significant to find, like their might be signs that pointed me towards the fish market. I walked past a lot of small wooden street stands selling fresh produce, newly packed-together onigiri, various pottery, and clothing. As soon as I saw this market, I knew that those were the stands I was looking for. When you get off the road where the Oedo Line meets the street and start exploring the streets perpendicular to it around the produce market, you’ll find the fish market. A football field’s length warehouse is hidden behind the produce market. Little gas powered carts — they look like oil drums with steering wheels and a large cargo platform in back — will be zipping in and out of the market alongside motorbikes, trucks, and bicycles. You will want to do everyone a favor and step aside and try and stay out of the way, which at times can be tough. When I entered the market, I drafted behind an older looking Japanese gentleman and just followed him where he went a couple of paces behind him. I figured that would be the best way to stay out of trouble. For the record, I only seemed to piss off one fisherman because I was too slow to move out of his way.

One of the oil drum carts I saw.

By 7:30 in the morning, the auction is over and much of the fish is being carved up and prepared for shipping across the city — maybe across the country — I don’t know where the final destination for most of the fish is. I imagine though, it’s in people’s stomachs as some form of sushi or  another. I walked up and down the aisles glancing to my right and left. I caught glimpses of butchers putting their boning knives to the giant tuna carcasses. Other men were busy carrying the flash frozen bodies away. Fish heads oogled me from their butchering tables. Water and fish guts were strewn all over the floor and being washed across the cobblestone floor into drains — I’m glad I couldn’t smell the place, but I’m sure it would smell like fish and gas. The little motorized drum carts zipped up and down narrow streets created by each fisherman’s individual stall. Make sure you look both ways before you cross. I’m sure it won’t be their fault if they smack you.

Mmmmm...Yumm-O.

I snapped photos of the fish and I even made a shaky-cam, low res movie with my Canon A480. I can tell what an octopus is from a fish. I know what clams and shrimps look like. I’m by no means an expert as to what type of fish was there. If there’s a plate of nigiri sushi, I’ll eat it, but I can’t explain to you each piece or explore those delicate and sublime mouth flavors that each piece conjures up. What’s the difference between a Yellowtail and a Red Snapper? Hell if I know. Or as Rachel Ray might put it, “Yumm-O!” And somehow she made a career on that and slapping together 30 minute meals.

I left the Fish Market content with the media I took and at least seeing it. Yes, I came away with one thing: If they say that’s the largest in the world, I believe them.

Afterwards, I had a sushi breakfast. I didn’t know the “proper” place to go to get my sushi. There’s some sushi stand where you’re supposed to get it dirt cheap, but I didn’t know where that was. I found a sit down sushi restaurant. They were barely open but they seemed pleased enough to serve me. I got a platter of nigiri and enjoyed devouring it. Towards the end a white couple rolled in for some breakfast of their own and I was on my way again.

To see more of my Tsukiji Fish Market photos on Flickr go here.

Sensoji Temple

Sensoji Temple. This is a 5-story pagoda by the temple. It's not representative of the temple, but it's cool looking.

According to this guide to Japan, Sensoji Temple is the oldest one in Tokyo. It also turns out that it’s about a block away from Unizo Asakusa Hotel. I left the fish market about 9:30 am and got to the temple around 10 am after some walking and a few subways.  I saw a few girls on the subway dressed in kimonos and they were heading to Asakusa Station the terminal station on the Ginza line — I got off on Tawaramachi, the stop before, it to make a brief visit to my hotel.

With my cameras and HD camorder in hand I headed over to Sensoji. I believe a cherry blossom festival was being setup at the temple. I walked along some back alley roads where stalls were just being opened up and ended up on a road where people amassed. Someone was setting up lanterns. Stalls were open and selling knick-knacks and treats. School children were running around. Girls were gathered in gaggles wearing their kimonos. I walked along the road weaving through people and heading for my goal — the giant Sensoji temple gates.

Festival at Sensoji Temple in Asakusa.

When you pass under the gates there’s a massive open concrete courtyard. I think the main temple is under some kind of reconstruction, because the whole thing was tented off. Out in front of it was a large incense cauldron. As I approached it I saw men and women wafting the fumes over their bodies and washing themselves clean with the smoke, and then they ventured off inside the temple.

Sensoji Temple, the main temple is under that canopy.

I didn’t follow them inside. It just didn’t feel like it was the right thing for me to do. I didn’t mind sightseeing all the various temples I came across such as the one by Tokyo Tower, the one in Shinjuku-Chuo Park, and the one near Akiba, but I didn’t feel that it was my place to enter the temple and to pretend that I could honor their Buddhist or Shinto gods. It felt cheap to sight-see something like that, and I’m sure most Japanese people probably wouldn’t care. If you did anything wrong they might just think you were a dumb foreigner. I know the procedures — to enter the temple you first go to the washing station and take a ladle. You wash your hands and put the ladle back and approach the temple. Jingle the bell. Clap your hands twice and bow to the god housed there. I think sometimes you throw a coin, but for what reason, it eludes me, and without a Japanese friend to explain I decided it was better I observe. I guess you stand there and make a prayer and be on your way. I haven’t even stepped foot in a Christian church in years now. I’m not a very spiritual man, but I do believe that there is a force out there much greater than all of us maintaining the balance of the universe (i.e. all 10,000 things) and sometimes this force might leave you or me some discrete guidance, which can only be picked up with a bit of humility and a whole lot of hindsight.

To see more of my Asakusa pictures on Flickr you can go here.

Ghibli Museum

With Asakusa and the Fish Market behind me, I went to see the Ghibli Museum. Creativity is more apart of my soul. I enjoy creating something from nearly nothing and using my bare hands to do it — be it a story, drawing, or even just some programming. It’s a pleasurable thing that brings me immense joy. It gives me great pleasure to be able to see this museum becuase Miyazaki is, to me, one of the greatest creative minds that’s lived in this modern world and an influence for me.

As an aside, one of my personal projects is to write a novel. It was influenced by two books I had read: On Writing by Steven King, and Starting Point, which is a collection of interviews with Hayao Miyazaki. After reading both of those books I began to embark on my new novel writing adventure. Every morning from 7:30 to 9:00 am I would put down as many words as I could. I started back on August 13 2009. I have close to 280,000 words and some semblance of a very, very rough story. I’m on the road to finish it and I owe some thanks to Miyazaki. Reading his interviews helped solidify my own ideas about my work methodology. Just for the record, I didn’t get anything spiritual from reading his words but rather, he and Steven King’s book finally settled an issue I’d have been tossing around in my mind: do I write a novel by the seat of my pants or try to plan it out? Both authors basically said that they just wing it the first time. Miyazaki doesn’t have a script. He has a picture in mind and he builds his stories one picture at a time. The script exists when the animation is done. If you’re ever wondering why Howl’s Moving Castle seems to be all over the place, it’s because of that process. You can’t very well revise your rough draft if you just give it one go and have it animated. King goes a bit further in making second and third drafts, and I’m hoping to finish my first draft so I can do the same. So that’s why Miyazaki and Steven King are important to me since they started me down on this journey which I hope will see a conclusion in the not to distant future. I look forward to discussing it on this blog.

With Ghibli done, I returned back to Unizo Asakusa Hotel for the last time. I grabbed my things which they so nicely allowed me to stow behind their hotel desk and ventured off to Mito. So after a day that started off at 6 am in the morning I found myself standing in a packed JR train heading to Mito on the Joban rapid line. I stood for an hour with all of my luggage until around Tsuchiura when most people seemed to leave and I could blissfully sit down. I arrived around 9:30 pm in Mito Station.

To see more of my Ghibli photos on Flickr go here.

Mito

Mito Station was freezing. Most of the stores were closed down for the night except for one restaurant which I escaped into to grab a bite to eat. I called Kenny on the pay phone hoping that his number would work, otherwise, it would be a very interesting night. It took him ten minutes to walk down to meet me at the station. To use his words, “You’re much harder to pick out here.”  I had to smile. A wolf in sheep’s clothing, indeed. I didn’t mention it, but being a white guy with blonde hair, he’s incredibly easy to pick out.

I followed Kenny out of Mito Station and through some back alleys. We caught up as we walked along. He told me to watch out for the drivers in Ibaraki — they tend to be the worst kind. When they see a pedestrian stepping out onto the street to cross, they speed up. It becomes a challenge to beat the pedestrian — to zip by before they can take another step. If you’re ever in Mito let the light turn green first, wait a few beats, and then start walking — that’s his advice. I didn’t experience any near-misses, but I’ll take Kenny’s word for it since he bikes and walks through the city everyday.

Kenny’s apartment was the first time I ever stepped foot into a real Japanese apartment. It’s small, but he has rooms — a kitchen, bathroom with a washing machine, a separate room for the toilet, a small bedroom, and a living room. His kotatsu is the television stand. He has a school desk for his computer and chairs so he doesn’t have to sit on the ground. Bernadette and Alexis were already there too, so it was a Sterry reunion, and I got to see my friends from New York again. Another nice touch — he had electric heaters otherwise the freezing air outside would be inside too. The Japanese aren’t big on insulation and most of them just live in the cold. I was even told that most schools don’t have any heat in the corridors — who needs to heat the parts where people won’t be? It’s ruthlessly efficient sounding, but I like the heat and in the winter I’m willing to put up a couple extra bucks to keep the place warm.

My legs ached from two days of walking and standing and I was glad just to drop all my things and rest on the small sofa. We shot the breeze for a while and went to bed. My next day is entirely in Mito.