Japan: Snacks and Shinjuku (Part 1)

Woke up to a sunny day and Kirk feeling wholly well!  An auspicious start by all accounts.

Tokyo Sky Tree at dawn

First thing: Breakfast.  I've told you about dinners and snacks, but I haven't addressed breakfasts.  When I travel, I sometimes have trouble figuring out what people in other cultures eat for breakfast or if "breakfast food" is distinctive from food at other meals.  

Here in Japan, that's not really a problem, but it is an adventure.  

Because we had some time zone adjustments at first, and now because we have pre-paid, we are inclined to breakfast at the hotel. It's an easy and fun way to get the day started. At the day's dawning, while I do appreciate familiar foods, I thrill at a multi-cultural buffet!

Yes, I take a spoon of scrambled eggs... reliable, but here beautifully, marigold-orange rather than chick-yellow.  But I also sample bits of anything (read: everything) I cannot identify or I see non-Americans eating.

I like okayu, a soft rice porridge, the Asian equivalent to oatmeal. Like oatmeal, you can toss lots of condiments into it to add flavor and texture.  Unlike oatmeal, most of the condiments here are salty, pickled or fishy.  Don't groan if you haven't tried it.  It works!  I may be doing it all wrong, but I add everything that's next to the porridge pot: a small pickled plum, sour-salty-sweet like a sour patch kid candy; shredded, pickled turnip; kelp; sometimes tiny dried shrimp or fish.  

The hotel buffet here at The Prince Park Tower, also has fun twists on familiar foods.  I also love seeing these food make-overs: Eggs Benedict, an "individual serving" is a single (very) soft boiled egg, balanced on a 2"x2" crostini, and drizzled with an orange (remember, the yolks here are orange like the scrambled eggs) hollandaise and chives; Danish, puff pastry tart filled with sweet corn; mini french toast and waffles (about 3"x3").  Some are delicious.  Some are meh. But it's fun to try things at a buffet and there's no risk at all.

My favorite thing? Oh that's easy.  As I type this, in a new hotel, in a new town, I can still feel the freshness and fragrance in my mouth.  My favorite thing at the buffet was a juice. Yes. This juice was blended kiwi and shiso leaf.  You know.... the leaf that garnishes your sushi? It's fragrant plum. Perfumey, but fresh and wonderful.  The combination is chunky and green, but splendid in the mouth.

Second thing: We have been watching a little round park directly beneath our room.  From the nearby nursery school, toddlers in matching neon hats march into the park in groups to run around. Orange hat group, pink hat group, blue hat group.  All very sweet.  But when the kids are not in the park, it's all dogs, all the time.  We sometimes need a fix of dog visiting when we're away.  This morning, it was time.  

We got lucky and encountered three toy poodles and a stocky chihuahua, all dressed up.  Our favorite grey poodle is included in the photos.  She is wearing a denim vest, sunglasses on her head, and she has a purple puff of a heart on her lower back.  Her name is, Bibi.

Third thing: (I'm to end this listing of Things any minute now, really) We walked around the park to the other grand site visible from the room: a 14th C temple and shogun cemetery.

  

We had been looking at these places from above for days and I was feeling guilty about not yet having been.  We were able to see the impressive main gate with its warrior statues, and some of the glitzy interior, 20' chandeliers of gold foil, descending from the ceiling.  Flanking the altar was a pair of magnificent painted drums.

We needed to get to a specific train station in order to activate our rail passes and reserve our seats for the next leg of the journey, so to Tokyo Station we went. Got things sorted out in short order with an agent. Then headed for the Imperial Palace... grounds.  The palace proper is only open twice annually and this wasn't one of those days.  It was still pleasing to walk around the large open park space, a refreshingly open area in the middle of skyscrapers.  

Imperial Palace gardens

Lunch time in Shinjuku.  Using our Food Sake Tokyo book once more, we found a small tempura restaurant (I'm trying to have diversity in the kinds of food we try here.) which was scrumptious.  Seated at the bar, we were able to watch the chefs.  There was Veggie Prep Chef, Seafood Prep Chef and Frying Chef. While we watched, S.P.C. pinched off prawn heads and skinned and filleted live eels, all with impressive efficiency.  V.P.C husked BABY CORNS!  I know.. it's silly... but I've never seen baby corns, fresh and in their husks.  Adorable and tasty.

 

In the interest of time, I'll leave you here with another half-day, some Shinjuku architecture, and I'll owe you the rest this evening.   And folks, it's a big one, full of all the lights and electronic splash and wild wonderfulness you expect from Tokyo. 

Capsule hotel

Japan: Not My Finest Moment

Tuesday. More rain.

And since my little red boots had done so well the day before, I naturally elected to wear different shoes out.  I chose a pair of black leather (also waterproofed) boots with leather soles and a medium heel.

By the time we got to the metro, my feet hurt. 

I was too hot in my "rainy day" outerwear. 

And I had again awoken at 4:30am.

I had trouble deciding where I wanted to be in the city. and so dragged us from one neighborhood to another, in the rain.

I looked through my notes and emails from friends who had suggested areas and sights of interest.  We settled on Naka-Meguro where I was advised not to take it on first impression out of the station, but to explore the smaller side streets.  

I had a meltdown a block from the metro station under the overpass. Hot. Tired. Grumpy. Perplexed. Frustrated. Feeling failed and disappointing as a navigator and a guide, I crouched on the pavement, hanging on to the cool metal guardrail and worked on clearing my head and pulling it together.

Ten minutes later, with some encouragement and a positivity he likely did not feel, Kirk convinced me that we should try to focus ourselves by walking along the riverfront (really more of a creek).

Photo taken a bit later, post-meltdown recovery

  The way was lined with cherry trees, some still flowering, and dappled with boutiques and wee cafes.  While we are too large for most of the clothes here in Japan, I felt hopeful that I could find some new shoes.  The search for footwear that was 8.5ish, flattish, and waterproof, was afoot.... so to speak.

We tried a lot of shops. Many lovely and patient merchants scanned their stock for giant shoes in the size and style I requested.  

I felt like I was in a scene from a contemporary Cinderella story with lots of shoes and a single pair of feet.

No. no. no. no. almost. egads. no. no. $900. nope. uh-uh. WAIT!

I thought...perhaps mens shoes would work, but they were all too wide.

And then... and THEN... I found a perfect pair  (and chose the navy blue over the appealing red) of knee-high, heel-less rainboots with padded insoles AND>>>> AND>>>>>> they are collapsible and can fit into a regular-sized shoe box.  (and only $48! AND made in Japan!) New. Travel. Rainboots!

In the words of Borat: GREAT SUCCESS!

I wore them out of the shop and the day picked up dramatically from there.

We had a snack of edamame, avocado, mozzarella balls and shandy. ('Cause they had it, and so why not?)

We strolled some more.

We picked up a trinket or two.

And everybody lived to return to the hotel.

Dinner that evening was supposed to be special.  When in Tokyo for a friend's 40th in 2009, we had dined at a glorious shabu-shabu restaurant.  I have photos and some recollection of extraordinary food on a terrific, friend-filled night, but zero idea of where it was, how we got there, or the name of the place (until I was reminded in one of the aforementioned emails). Masuya. 

I had the concierge make reservations for us while we were out.

Returning to her desk, she apprised us of the situation.  Our reservations were made as requested, she said, but the restaurant feels very nervous about us because we speak no Japanese and they have no English menus.  But, they do have menus with pictures.

Ok.  We can make it work.

Because of the rain (and likely my behavior in it) we taxied to the restaurant. Got lost leaving the taxi. Were redirected by the driver who left his cab and chased us down the wrong street.  Found the restaurant and were ushered in to a totally empty room with a single set table in the corner. 

An elderly waitress in kimono did her best to help us.  Between the 3 of us, we managed to communicate that:

-we could show her what we'd like if we could see a picture, or plastic food model ... Neither exist at this restaurant. Further evidence that they don't cater to tourists, which I appreciate in spite of being hungry and little stressed.

-we wanted 2 beers and waters to drink ("beer" being one of a dozen words I know in Japanese)

-we understood that this is a shabu-shabu restaurant 

-we wanted to be seated upstairs (where I had been seated my previous visit, and from where we could hear liveliness and revelry from other diners), but it was not allowed.

-She wasn't going to be able to coax any proper words out of us.

Nuriko (I did exchange names with her in an effort to seem somewhat warm and civilized), eventually took charge and we were managed in a loving and gentle, yet efficient manner... like you might help a toddler.  She didn't baby-bird feed us exactly, but short of regurgitating food and putting it into our mouths, we were aided.  

Our waitress/savior, Nuriko

Veg, tofu and rice cakes

"ushi", tender and flavorful enough to eat raw

She brought us the raw ingredients and showed us how to manage them all, we stepped up.  Like a proud mother, she applauded when I mimicked her and strained the meat scum off the top of the water. She hastened and paused us when we allowed items to cook for the wrong amount of time. But over all, I would call the meal a success.

The Ushi beef was thinly sliced and heavily marbled and succulent. The accompanying plate contained: dandelion greens, glass noodles, cabbage, crimini mushrooms, cubes of firm fleshy tofu, and some kind of starchy mochi cake which required significant rehydration, and was chewy and gluey.

When we had cooked and eaten the contents of both plates, Nuriko brought some flat rice noodles and cooked them in the broth that our shabu-shabu water had become.  She meted out noodles and broth to us in small cups. (This was extremely delicious!)

For dessert we were each given a small ball of strawberry ice milk. Light and refreshing and creamy cool.

As we gathered ourselves to leave, Nuriko fretted and insisted on calling a taxi for us. She gave us two small stone turtles as gifts and showed us how and when to polish them.  "They're chopstick rests", she pantomimed.  

Once home, we watched wacky Japanese game shows and commercials on tv until we were sleepy.

***

Why have I included this day of vulnerability and petulance in the travelogue for you to read? I suppose it feels more honest to show you that in spite of my eagerness to try new things and go new places, I sometimes have terrible moments. Times when I feel frayed and fed up and I act out in ways that aren't really funny or interesting at all.  

Some of you asked me why I described this as a more "difficult" trip when we were heading to a cosmopolitan region with clean water, mild weather, safe transit and food flavors I like.  The challenge of this trip for me has a lot to do with my utter illiteracy here in Japan.  Not only can I not recognize most of the words or letters... I cannot even recognize or find the addresses. Numbers. Street signs are often absent or hard to find. If I plan out a route or agenda in advance for minimal frustration down the line... a wrench in the works throws me farther afield than it otherwise might.  

There are pros and cons to starting a Japan trip in Tokyo.

On the plus side, there is good infrastructure for tourists, a good quantity of people speak some English and they are happy to help out.  Easy to fly in directly. And great public transportation.

The flip side of beginning a visit in Tokyo (at least for me) is that you start off at an 11 in terms of intensity and it is easy to become over-stimulated and short circuit yourself. This while your bio-rhythm is off kilter.

I have another day writing itself in my mind for you, but today we are on a journey to the northwest of the country, through Nagoya to the town of Takayama.  While typing this to you my vista has changed from skyscrapers and dramatic structures, to green mountains dotted with clusters of pale pink cherry blossoms, open agricultural spaces, a river of jade-colored water, and 1 or 2-story homes with traditional tile roofs in shades of brown or green. Moss-covered stone tunnels and terraced hillsides. Quaint bridges. And if a young boy in short pants were to run excitedly next to the train while clutching a red balloon on a stick... it wouldn't be out of place.

Being in a less metropolitan area will surely have its challenges too.  What would be the fun if it didn't?

Japan: In with Both Feet - Part 2 (4/13)

Another 4:30am wake up and as you can see from the probably-not-the-same-as-yesterday's subject line, I'm feeling a little weary. But invigorated. But draggy. But excited. 

It's confusing. 

No, I'm not supposed to be on medication.

When we left off, Kirk and I had been swatted out into a rainy, fishy alley in the Outer Market, full from a 21-minute meal of superior sushi at Daiwa.  The time was 8:41.

Or wait... foggy, but it's coming back... (yes, I know I could check, but I don't feel like it.) ... I had taken you through the whirl, splash, shlosh and sawing of Tsukiji interior.

Ah... there we are.

red caped stone foxes at Namiyoke Inari shrine nearby

It is 10am and raining.

Now what?

It's silly, I know.  More than silly really.  Downright dumb. But in spite of my years of living in Boston and traveling globally, rain is like kryptonite to me when I'm out of my regular element. Like Elphaba, Wicked Witch of the West... like a pat of butter... I am brought low by rain and the accessories required to manage it comfortably. It makes me feel... disintegrated.

I'd checked the weather forecasts from home and planned my wardrobe options carefully.  I have umbrellas, layers, I even waterproofed our shoes... Kirk's sturdy and treaded, bootlets, and my... red suede ankle boots. [I can hear the groaning from here]  It. is. madness.  I knew and I know.  But the waterproofing worked pretty well and they are the only smallish, light, flat-soled boots that I own.  My regular rain boots are large and heavy and terrific... but LARGE and HEAVY and therefore, no good for a place like this where light and petite are the requirement.

The red suede boots did pretty darn well today.   They triumphed over the fish market... the FREAKIN' FISH MARKET without a speck or a stain! 

[Sure... now you'll be lining up to have me weatherproof *your* favorite inappropriate footwear.]

****Back to the meat of it****

What to do as a tourist in the rain?

ONSEN!  Yes, I decided (and Kirk, bless him, agreed) that rather than slog through any 'hood in a river of umbrellas, we could use this grey and gloomy day to go to my favorite, Spa-Fairgrounds, Oedo-Onsen Monogatari!  

I thrill at the local penchant for combining experiences. Who says that massage and hot springs baths shouldn't be events for whole families and groups of friends? Why not add carnival games and cotton candy too?!  You like those things, right?  Sure you do!  Photo booths, shopping, a bar or 4, and a meditation room?  Hell yes! Let's have it all in one place.

Wait, what?  Why should *we* have all the fun?

That's thoughtful... darnit, you're right... Fido is sitting at home bored and alone while we revel and omh and frolic and soak our cares away.  Not Fair!  Let's make an adjacent spa-park for the pups too. The more, the merrier!

I give you... Oedo-Onsen Monogatari. A wonderland in any weather.

Giddy with anticipation, we cruised across town on the subway/el/monorail.  I could see it from the train! (some small part of me hoped, of course, that it lived up to my memory and that Kirk would find it as thrilling as I do)

Clock seen from the metro

And so it was.

No money in the interior of the onsen.  All transactions are with a scan of your wristband.  So easy.  So positively carefree.  You're here to relax... don't even think about bringing your wallet.

We deposited out shoes into one locker.

Selected our yukata (sadly, they no longer have fun characters on them, but instead have traditional scenes and patterns. It used to be like choosing an avatar to wear on your back.).

Split up to change into our robes (and underpants, and bare feet).

And reconvened in a historic Japanese village... mock-up.... charming and incredibly comfortable.  Imagine the interior of Disney's Pirates of the Caribbean ride.. The cool dry air. The faux night sky and gentle lighting.  It's like that.... but Japan and pirate-free.

We made appointments for shiatsu massages, then went to explore the grounds beginning with the exterior (yes, in the rain).  The spa had quilted jackets and umbrellas available for us.  We took umbrellas and left the jackets and ventured out, wading through steaming hot springs shallows and into.... FISH PEDICURE!    

I know it's gimmicky, but it's fun, and it tickles and it's different, so we did it.  Kirk, though ticklish of foot, was delighted.  This was the only area of the spa that was all foreigners.  Otherwise the spa is about 90% Japanese.  15 minutes of fishy foot feasting was enough, and we spent a bit of time wading again.  The stream flows over a progression of pebbles.  You are supposed to walk the length of the stream in the water, over the rocks.  At first the pebbles are comfortable, on their sides and mostly imbedded into the ground.  In the next stage, the water just at the lower-calf, the rocks are embedded... on their ends, protruding sharply from the ground and a minor agony to traverse.  Stage 3, the pebbles, still on end, are larger and closer set. Less uncomfortable, but still not soothing.  And then the pattern reverses.  There's a series of photos documenting my trip through the stream, but I'll only include the smiling ones and leave the grimacing faces out of the mix.

Next activity: onsen time.  I gave Kirk a quick tutorial in the pre-washing.  Double-checked my back in the mirror to make sure that the poxy-looking bug bites were no longer scary-looking. And into our separate baths we went.

There are about a dozen indoor, slate and marble-lined pools.  Most are varying degrees of hot. A couple are warm. One is a cold plunge.  And there are baths with jets. Baths with unfiltered, tea-colored spring water. Sizes vary, but they are generally a couple feet deep and definitely spacious enough to be communal.  There is also a sauna, a steam room, a salt-bed room, and some other nooks I didn't examine.  The space is illuminated by natural light from the 25' windows along the back.  My favorite is the outdoor pool area.  Some pools are grotto-like, with large rocks and and leafy plants landscaping for more privacy. Others are large cedar tubs. At this point it is merely drizzling, but there is a mesh canopy over most of the area anyway.  

I could spend hours and hours luxuriating here.

But I had allotted us 40 minutes to start.

When the time came, I robed up again, and met Kirk for some games and a village stroll.  We competed at a version of Guitar Hero with taiko drums. Japanese whack-a mole. Other silly contests.  We made faces in photo booths (the whole photo booth thing here is W-A-Y past what we have at home and I LOVE it!  More on that later.). And enjoyed green tea soft-serve and beers. 

And then it was massage time.  

Robes on, we lay face-down on low tables in a quiet communal space.  At the beginning of shiatsu massages, I often think that nothing is really happening.  Pushing pressure points instead of the deeper kneading of Swedish massage...ok... and then, about 10 minutes into it, I feel things changing. The stress points in my muscles migrate and shift and then.... dissipate.  Magic.

By the time we left, 3 1/2 hours later, we were clean, relaxed, and happy.  Happy enough to spend a few extra minutes in the rain to check out Dog Spa.  Had you forgotten about Dog Spa?  It's attached to the onsen.  At Dog Spa, pups can swim or play, have massage and grooming, there are costumes and toys and snacks. Just like in ours. 

For the first night since we arrived, we made it to dinner.  In the hotel, but a restaurant still.

The basement here has a half dozen places to dine.  We opted for yakatori.... food on sticks. Fun and tasty.

****

More rain forecast for the 14th.  How will we manage?

Tune in for the next episode.

Japan: In with Both Feet (Part 1)

[I left off with our arrival at the Prince Park Tower Tokyo Hotel.]

We wheeled/dragged our luggage in from the night to the lobby of our new hotel to check-in and were greeting by veritable cornets and flag-bearers.  Our luggage was spirited away, and we were escorted with much bowing up to the 32nd floor (of 33).

There we were practically palanquinned to a cushy lounge with a view of the Tokyo Tower, and plied with champagne and tasty morsels of cheese and fishy treats.  I confess, my eyes darted nervously as I awaited some surprise or error message or... I don't know what.  In the pauses between service and submission, I murmured to Kirk, with escalating giddiness and alarm, sentences like, "OMG, are you paying for this?", "What's happening?!", "I think they have mistaken us for other guests. ShouldWeTellThemOrRollWithIt?!!!".  

Ensconced in soothing low-lighting and lounge music, we were given information about the hotel services and options, how to use the elevators and other features, and who could do what for us when.

And then... when we were ready, and not a moment sooner, we were escorted a couple of floors lower to our room. It is not palatial, but it is beautiful and sizable (esp for Tokyo), and has almost full-length picture windows in the bedroom and bathroom with views of the Tokyo Tower, the new Sky Tree, skyline, a 13th C temple and shogun cemetery, the giant ferris wheel (seriously, you should google it... it is enormous) and the waterfront.

When we were looking for hotel rooms, we realized that we were in high-season here (due to the cherry trees blooming). Hotel rooms in a range we could afford, with amenities we prefer (not-twin beds, non-smoking) were rare. And there were massive jumps in price: a mortuary slab of a "capsule" for $84; a room where the bed touched 3 walls and you couldn't open a suitcase on the floor for $150;  some pleasant rooms with more functional space in nice areas in the $200 range.  Then, prices jumped to $600, $950, $1,150.  So you can imagine why I was concerned.  

It's true... we haven't checked out yet, but I trust that Kirk saw and approved the proposed bill when we were being fanned and coddled.  If there's a surprise.... I'll tell you in a few days.

But enough about that...

In spite of our intentions, straight to bed again. 

Kirk had been feeling poorly for the few days before we left Los Angeles, and he has been an impressively good sport, all things considered.  The least I can do is allow him some extra sleep.

But once again, as Kirk slept, I plotted for the next day.  By God we *would* see that fish market!  

The tuna auction attendees were selected at 5am (said my book) from a queue that started earlier, with a maximum of 120 people daily.  

O.K.  Can do!

I set an alarm for 3:30. Woke Kirk at 3:45. Had us out the door and in a taxi (too early for public transit) by 4:10.  To Tsukiji!

Dropped off at 4:30, in the pre-dawn, near a line/cluster of tourists and herded to the edge of the sidewalk by an official. "No more Tuna Auction today. Auction closed."

What? Closed? 

"All full. Full 3:40am."

3:40??  By 3:40am the selection was over?  What time should we arrive if we want to come back?

"3 o'clock."

F.T.S.  I don't think so.

From other dazed-looking tourists we learned that the "lucky" 120 who would be allowed to attend the tuna auction were now wearing green vests, and they would have to linger in a tiny room until 6am.  Oh... that sounds like fun.  

I started plotting a business model for an agency that would queue and place-hold for people who want to attend, but also want to sleep a couple extra hours.  

The rest of us... we could enter the fish market at 9am once the majority of the business was done for the day.  Ha-rrumph!

But we were up... and there... and so we wandered the Outer Market, watching vendors open their stalls, hunting for tasty snacks, consulting our food book for interesting/exclusive offerings and opportunities nearby.

BINGO!

While the green-vested chumps were languishing in a stinky trailer, Kirk and I sidled through warrens of merchants selling combinations of wonderful-horrible wares. We were plied with toothpick-skewered samples of marinated mushrooms; soft, sweet, beans - some large and inky black, others chick-yellow; slivers of ripe strawberry, thinly-coated in purply bean paste, then wrapped in translucent mochi; steaming ceramic cups of barley and soy bean tea; marbles of umami smoked tuna, rolled in sesame seeds.  We (almost) located, and then were redirected and escorted to #1 omelet-maker in the city, Tsukiji Shouro.  Not omelets as we know them, but tamago: thick and spongey, cool, damp and sweet. This family of egg-cake masters provides restaurants city-wide.   Easing into it, we opted for a duo of skewered omelet, one infused with mild chilis, the other with deep green seaweed powder.  Eating on the go isn't done here.  Very gauche. We were directed toward a small communal seating area where we should eat.  

A man loaned Kirk his squid hat to wear for the photo.

Front case of #1 omelet-maker, Tsukiji Shouro

Tamago w/ seaweed powder

pickled everything

Deeper into the communal area we were intrigued by "Relax Room" which was a stand-up smoking room with two dozen vending machines selling beverages and kitchy toys.  I allotted us each coins for a bauble and they didn't disappoint.  We had options of: hamsters with props, posable cats, rubbery girls, costume jewels, puffy stickers, and more.  Kirk chose "Misery man". I'll include a photo of this emo fellow. He looks like a suicidal businessman.  As dangling charms are very popular here, I had Kirk wear him through a button hole. Nobody gave it a second glance. They were all on their mobile phones.

Then... a vending machine cafe au lait later.... back into the Outer Market for more.

Time: 6:00am

We followed our noses to the briny smokiness of grilling oysters.  And HOLY BIVALVES, BATMAN!  Never have I seen such large oysters! (Nobody ask the Fukushima question, I implore you. Travel eating requires some suspension of disbelief.)  The shells were the size of my hand.  Not my palm... but my whole hand.  The oyster itself... a little intimidating and conceptually nauseating in its magnitude.  But... in for a penny, in for a pound. Kirk wouldn't do it, but was lured by the equally massive scallops adjacent (I'd estimate the scallop shells were 5-6 inches in diameter.  See photo of shell on plate.)  We pointed and pantomimed our way to a combo meal of 1 mutant oyster and 1 mutant scallop, and shelled out $11 for the privilege.  We were both grateful to find that our shells had yielded what seemed to be too-small inhabitants, so rather than a literal mouthful of oyster/scallop, we each had 2 regularly extra-large pieces.  My oyster/s were served warm with a lemon sliver and tasted extravagantly of the sea... like a Cape Cod dune, lingering scent of last night's bonfire char in the breeze.  All that was in my mouth.

Sated and alert, we continued through the market. Again, consulting the Food Sake Tokyo book. 

Time: 7:20am

We looped around and through a back alley and around again, noticing significant congestion in some areas which in minutes became long, winding lines.  We had reached 2 of the famous sushi bars, Sushi Dai and Daiwa.  I spoke with a man in line for Sushi Dai.  He told me that he had been in line for 2 hours and anticipated another hour wait from the (pretty close) position he was in.  "The people at the end of the line," he said, "will wait for six hours to get in."

S-I-X hours!?!

It was then that Kirk and I decided to engage in the game, "Can It Be Worth It?".  We actually started this process a couple weeks ago at home when we were looking at restaurants to visit here and APPLYING to get reservations at some.  (more on that later)

We elected to hop into the shorter line at Daiwa.  

Time :7:25am

Disneyesque, the line snaked 6 rows deep toward frosted glass doors.  But it was orderly, managed by a chipper youth, and it moved.

By 8:15 we were pressed to the glass doors.

At 8:30, we were summonsed inside and gingerly we slid past 5-6 occupied stools to our assigned spaces.

Things move quickly. There is one set menu. You sit down, agree that you understand you will eat what you are given and you will be given what they choose to give you, and then, piece by piece, the sushi is set in front of you.  Four fairly cheery chefs serve 12 people.  Their own space behind the counter is not wider than our allotment, which is that say they have a depth of about 24" and a personal workspace width of 36".

All of it was fresh as could be. The wasabi and soy sauce were tucked in and brushed on by the chef. We didn't love it all, but much of it was succulent and melting.  We had: O-toro, tuna, salmon roe rolls, tamago, squid (this one I did not like, but Kirk enjoyed), shrimp, chu-toro (glorious!), sea urchin (I tasted hints of cocoa and creaminess), salt-water eel brushed w a thick teriyaki sauce, and miso soup with the tiniest clams I've ever seen. 

Thank-you-very-much. $30/pp. A virtual swat on the heiny and we were out the back door into the alley.

Time: 8:51.

Still though... compared to other experiences we had heard about (Sushi Jiro), we had a luxury of time at a bargain of a price.  My friend in the Sushi Dai line... still waiting when we left.

And from there... Into the Tsukiji Market!

( http://factsanddetails.com/japan/cat24/sub159/item935.html ) 

Most of the business is done by 9am, but the 4,MILLION sq ft of space is still a hive of activity with canister-fronted electric go-karts hauling merchandise and supplies in and out of the narrow aisles.  You have to stay on your toes. 

Creepy plastic-wrapped polar bear among rice crackers

Panda and snacks

We saw some things we wish we hadn't, like whale carpaccio and some horrid taxidermy: a polar bear, a panda, both wrapped in plastic; a bald eagle, lynx and minks, and creatures I couldn't identify either because they were new to me or because they were so mangey and dusty and amateurishly stuffed that they no longer resembled their species.

A hill of styrofoam, a fraction of the day's waste

scaling board

frozen tuna on the saw

It's startling to think that that the sea life we saw is a single day's catch.  The magnitude of the industry...and the mountains of residual discarded styrofoam.... it hurts the heart.  Also, makes me glad to have eaten before we arrived.  And this... this is much less intense that my prior experiences when things are in full swing and fully stocked.

But as always, I'm glad that we went.

I'll leave you here with photos, and will continue to Part 2 of the day later on.

Oh... but you should know that just before we were swatted into the alley... it began to rain.