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.
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| A man loaned Kirk his squid hat to wear for the photo. |
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| Front case of #1 omelet-maker, Tsukiji Shouro |
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| Tamago w/ seaweed powder |
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| 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!
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.
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| Creepy plastic-wrapped polar bear among rice crackers |
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| 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.
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| A hill of styrofoam, a fraction of the day's waste |
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| scaling board |
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| 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.
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