Fresh sushi at six-thirty
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Fresh sushi at six-thirty Sunday May 7
Any guidebook of Tokyo is likely to list "the fish market" as a destination. Where else can you see a gigantic tuna auction? Where else can you eat fresher fish than where it's being sold? Sure, there are other fish markets around Japan, but Tokyo's tsukiji is famous in its own right. They're thinking of moving it, too; it's so close to Ginza that I'm sure the real estate is worth far more than the cultural heritage.
Anyhow, since the market starts before the regular world starts its day, you have to go very, very early if you want to catch the action (and the freshest fish). How convenient, then, that the club I went to on Friday night is just a ten-minute subway ride away? You'd almost think they planned it that way.
A classmate told everyone back in November about this great idea: since the trains don't run all night, you have to stay out until sunrise if you don't catch the last train. This is atari-mae, or just common sense, in Japan, but if you're going to stay out all night, why not end with fresh sushi?
Saturday morning. Six-twenty a.m. Waiting for the revolving sushi conveyor belt to start up. Let's have some more tea, I'm trying to fight off the urge to sleep. I hate to use this expression, because it's so tired, but it's also so true: only in Japan.
