Tsukiji and Keisatsu - December 28th

A while back, Teru sent me a message asking if I wanted to go to Tsukiji and have some fresh sushi. I was interested, but unable to go due to a schedule conflict. As it turns out, they didn't go that day either, and again, Teru called and asked if I was interested in some fresh fish. I always am, so I met up with him early the next morning. We waited around a few minutes and eventually Ayaka and her friend showed up, followed by Stephen. Ayaka had crazy pants that seem to be made from multiple pairs of jeans. There's no reason for me to mention them, but they were exceptionally crazy pants, and that warrants mention.

It was just a tuesday, but the market was still packed with people. Moving through the crowds was more a matter of human osmosis than walking. We waded through the tightly packed alleyways, stopping occasionally so I could take a photo of something that caught my fancy. We eventually freed ourselves from the market area and went to the place where the real magic happened: the gyoko. And when I say magic, I mean fish disembowlment.

Maybe I've been in Japan too long, but despite the rows of dead and still squirming fish splattered with the blood and innards of their brethren, I couldn't help but think "oh man, this is going to be some good sushi!" I felt a twinge of guilt at the macabre scene as we wound around shop after shop of butchered seafood; partly for the fish that had been hauled in to be slaughtered and eaten, but also for the fact that there are thousands if not millions of fish markets around the world; we are trawling half the life out of the ocean, and killing the other half with industrial runoff. But let's face it, it is kind of hard to summon up sympathy for animals that don't blink.

After we had our fill of the silent screams of sea creatures, we dove back into the crowds surrounding the food stands opposite the big market, and settled into stools at Teru's favorite place. I ordered a maguro-don (tuna sashimi over rice), and despite the mixed feelings I had when walking through the wholesaler shops, it was incredibly fresh. After finishing our meal, we wandered around Shiodome for a while, stopping at the TV station nearby in time to catch a glimpse of a few celebrities coming out of a weird suspended glass studio. Pakkun, one of the foreign celebrities often seen on TV, stode past me in a smart suit. I didn't even realize who it was until he had his back to me. I was less than starstruck. Call me crazy, but for someone to earn my admiration, they need to do something a little more substantial than whore themselves out on TV. I find celebrity worship to be the most apparent indicator of a shallow culture obsessed with all the wrong things, or perhaps just too bored with real issues to care. I'm sure that one leads to the other. I didn't actually recognize anyone else at the studio, but I was excited to get a Waseda towel at the gift shop, promoting the upcoming Hakone Eki-den relay race (more on that later).

We met up with Hans at the station, and eventually broke apart into groups. Hans and I had plans to meet with Katy to help her pick out a new camera, so we first went back to his apartment to kill some time (I actually ended up napping =_=). It was then that we got the bright idea to ride our bikes to Akihabara to save some time. Bad idea.

Click here for Hans's account of what happened