Our Tokyo and Seoul Adventure: Day Seventeen (5 January)

This morning we left the hotel a bit earlier than usual so that we could visit a Tokyo sight that I've long had on my to-do list: Tsukiji Market. Tokyo's wholesale fish market covers 56 acres, and even if you've never been to Japan, if you love sushi, you may have eaten some fish that was sold at Tsukiji, the world's largest wholesale seafood market. The outer market is full of produce, like these bins of fresh wasabi that had me salivating,

as well as all the kitchen equipment a sushi chef could want.

As we approached the inner market, we started to get a sense of how busy everyone is -- all around us, mini-forklifts like the one you see below on the right

rushed around, turning and backing up as quickly as they zoomed forward. More than a few times, we had to pull each other out of the way of a forklift intent on plowing right through us!

When we entered the inner market, we realised why so many stalls in the outer market were selling rubber boots--puddles of fishy water were everywhere, and after preparing some fish, many of the vendors cleaned the pavement beneath their stalls by splashing large buckets of water across the cobbles. I've been in some big fish markets in Korea, but Tsukiji was a pretty amazing place.

These pieces of tuna were likely purchased at the tuna auction (now sadly closed to the general public), which takes place at around 5:00 A.M. each day. Unlike most of the other things we saw at the market, this case wasn't marked with a price. I suppose that old saying that if you have to ask, you can't afford it might apply here! I lingered over the case, dreaming about all the sashimi that even one of the small pieces would make.

We weren't only here to look at fish; we wanted to eat fish too! There are a number of tiny sushi restaurants right in the market, and after hearing that the sushi served in these market restaurants is the pinnacle of any sushi-lover's experience, we needed no more convincing. Today we were meeting an old friend of mine from when I used to tutor in Vancouver (Yoko is the mother of one of my old students) and it was she who suggested we try Sushi Dai, the most famous of the Tsukiji sushi restaurants. Although we were meeting Yoko at 11:00 A.M., Bob and I arrived about an hour earlier so that we could snag a place in line. Did I mention there is always a line at Sushi Dai? Their tiny sushi counter is just behind the green noren, and this is the line for their coveted seats:

And this is the continuation of that line! If you look closely, you can see me near the very back. :-(

Unfortunately, a few factors were working against us today. First, Tsukiji had been closed for the new year, and today was the first day it was open in 2008 (and it would be closed tomorrow for its regular Sunday closure). To make matters worse, the second-most popular sushi place in Tsukiji, Daiwa Sushi, was closed today, which of course meant that Sushi Dai's line absorbed those customers as well. And finally, it was Saturday. The sushi counter is so small, with seating for something like eight people, that shortly after we joined the queue we were told it would be a four-hour wait. Yes, four. Well, we couldn't leave because we were meeting Yoko, so we stood in line, hoping for some miracle (maybe thirty people in line would suddenly remember they had somewhere else to be?) that never arrived. Once Yoko found us, we all agreed it was better to abandon the Sushi-Dai dream and seek sushi elsewhere, so off we went. Yoko suggested a lovely place on the outskirts of the market, and even though it wasn't the market sushi we had dreamed of, it was still pretty fantastic.

Afterwards, I mentioned to Yoko that I wanted to head into nearby Ginza to buy some chocolates from my favourite chocolatier. "Who is it?" Yoko asked, with a big smile on her face. (She's quite the chocolate-lover herself.) When I told her it was Pierre Marcolini whom I adored, she said, "Oh! Me too! He's my favourite!" Then her face got very serious and she leaned in and whispered, "But do you know how expensive those chocolates are?" I said that I didn't and just told her the reasonable prices we had paid in Brussels and Paris for the delicious boxes of chocolate. Let's just say that I was shocked, no, I was SHOCKED to find out how much Marcolini chocolates go for in Tokyo. The 18€ box we bought in Brussels would cost about ten times that here! Oh well, I guess I'll just have to wait until our next trip to Belgium or France for another box. In spite of this disappointment, we still headed over to Ginza because Yoko said the Pierre Marcolini shop sold ice cream as well, and I had wanted to try it in Brussels and Paris, but both times the shops were sold out. As with many of the best places in Tokyo, there was a queue when we arrived,

but it turned out the line was for seating in Marcolini's upstairs café, so we went right into the shop. After seeing the chocolate prices for myself, we went next door to the ice-cream side of things and splurged on some cold treats. Yoko got hers first and the smile on her face told me that we hadn't gone wrong.

The dark chocolate with cocoa nibs was wonderful--although I don't think the name "chocolate chip" does it justice. After we finished our desserts, we walked around Ginza for a bit, which was a different experience today because the main street is closed to traffic on weekends, making the sunny, crisp day even more enjoyable.

Yoko had some shopping to do, and we were ready to head out of Ginza, so after we said our goodbyes, Bob and I went over to Asakusa, home to Tokyo's most important Buddhist temple, Senso-ji, along with wonderful Nakamise-dori shopping street that leads to the temple itself. On our way out of the subway station, we noticed a crowd of people looking at this lavish example of omikoshi (a shrine that is carried during festivals) that was displayed behind glass:

Asakusa is usually quite crowded, but during the first few days of the new year, it's very crowded! Here I am in the sea of people:

Nakamise-dori is lined with tiny shops selling souvenirs and food, and although I usually try to avoid shopping streets lined with trinkets, Nakamise-dori is different. The traditional snacks are great, the atmosphere is always lively, and some of the souvenirs are quite charming. The street was decorated for the new year, although it was sometimes difficult to stop in the crowd to look at the decorations!

We bought two of these steaming hot treats, filled with sweet red bean and pumpkin:

Daruma dolls were a common sight around the temple today--without pupils when purchased, you make a wish and fill in one of the eyes yourself, waiting until the wish comes true before you draw the other eye .

All kinds of traditional sembei (rice crackers) are sold here,

with many being made on-site. A freshly made sembei tastes nothing like a packaged one, and the air was filled with the smell of roasting crackers. The man in the background toasts the crackers over charcoal, while the man in the front dips them in a wonderful soy-sauce-based sauce, and they're ready to eat!

Freshly made red-bean-filled treats are probably the second-most popular snack on Nakamise-dori.

The packaging of these souvenir snacks is sometimes as nice as what is wrapped inside:

I have no idea what this man was doing, but the sheer effort involved, along with the fact that he was right up in the display case using his hands and feet, was impressive.

I'm not sure if the size of the daruma is supposed to tell anything about the size of your wish (or your effort to make your wish come true), but there was an ample selection of sizes for sale on the temple grounds. Apparently, if you purchase your daruma at a temple, you can bring it back at the end of the year for ceremonial burning if your wish hasn't come true by then--rather than signifying giving up on a wish, such a release is supposed to show that you are now going to pursue that particular dream in a different way.

The sandals of the temple guardians hang just inside the temple itself. You don't want to mess with these bouncers!

I've never seen Senso-ji this crowded, but then I've never been here for new year. The people on the left are queued to pay their new year's greetings in the temple itself, while the people on the right are lined up to waft incense smoke over their bodies--the belief is that smoke from Senso-ji's incense burner will purify and heal parts of the body with which it comes into contact.

It may have been too crowded to enter the temple proper, but the lines to get your fortunes were short, so we decided to do that. You can do this at any time of year, but somehow it seemed more timely at the start of a new year!

When you get to the front of the queue, put 100 Yen into the coin slot and pick up the metal box. After shaking it with some vigor, turn it upside down and shake until a single stick emerges from the small hole. This stick will have some writing on the end. Remember these characters and push the stick back in the box.

Look for the drawer whose writing matches your stick, and open it to reveal your fortune!

Bob's fortune was excellent:

However, I wasn't so lucky, and everything boded poorly for me according to my piece of paper. But before you feel too sorry for me, this entire custom has a built-in way out for unlucky types like me. If you're happy with your fortune, you can take the slip of paper as a souvenir. However, if you'd rather not see any of those things come true, all you need to do is tie your fortune to the racks just beside the drawers and the temple will keep the bad luck for you! That's very nice of it, don't you think?

Taking all of Bob's good luck with us, and leaving all of my bad luck behind, we left the temple and starting wandering back toward the main streets. On our way, I had a peek in this incredible stationery shop that was also filled with the most beautiful textiles. I wanted to buy everything in the shop!

We were treated to a glimpse of Philippe Starck's Asahi-brewery building, crowned with what locals call "the golden poo":

As we wandered, Bob made a friend,

while three others cried for help from inside the locked building!

We decided to head to a new (to us) part of Tokyo, and when we got off the subway, the station was eerily empty. As we went up the escalator to exit the station, I felt like I was in an art installation.

All the shiny metal and fluorescent light of the station contrasted with the charming streets of Kaguarazaka outside the station. A lovely area full of traditional shops, restaurants, and a true neighbourhood feel, Kaguarakaza is a place we'll definitely retun to on future visits.

This stationery shop was filled with gorgeous works of art--from cards to original framed pieces, everything in the shop was incredibly beautiful.

Kagurazaka was filled with locals doing errands, including walking their dogs.

While we weren't quite ready for dinner, we passed a sushi takeout place that looked too good and cheap to pass up, so we got a pair of small sets as a snack. In warmer weather, we might then have looked for a park to enjoy our food, but by now the sun had disappeared and the wind had picked up, making for a chilly early evening. So where could we eat our food? Even though it got us a few strange looks, we found that the warmth of the subway station was a good place to savour our (fresh, tender, delicious) sushi!

We left Kagurazaka and did some shopping in Ebisu, which isn't always easy when you're in one building and trying to make your way to another,

before wandering around nearby neighbourhoods for a bit. While the shops and restaurants on one side of this street were open and busy, the businesses under the railway had been shut and we wondered what would become of the long string of closed shopfronts.

Many of the streets contained tiny hole-in-the-wall restaurants, but we couldn't tell from the outside what kind of food was being served inside, so we just kept wandering.

We returned to the vicinity of Ebisu station to find dinner, and decided to return to an old favourite, where we dined omikase style (at the chef's choice) on kushiage (deep-fried skewers of meat, fish, and vegetables). We were given a variety of fresh vegetables to munch on before and during our meal, and readied our various sauces (a great range of salty, sweet, tangy, and spicy flavours) for the parade of skewers to begin.

Everyone in the restaurant seemed to be eating omikase style, and the chefs behind the counter placed tasty skewer after skewer in front of all of us. Even a simple piece of asparagus is elevated to bliss in this way.

The chefs placed new pieces on our plates, telling us each time what we were getting (my limited Japanese food vocabulary meant that I only understood what half of the pieces were, but they were all great), while our finished skewers were placed into the neighbouring ceramic fish.

When we started to get full, we let the chef know we'd just like two more, and after the skewers stopped coming, a simple and wonderful dessert finished the meal: chewy rice-based sweets coated in (I think) powdered soya, along with a very strong coffee jelly, with cream to pour over top--a lovely contrast of textures to end a day that was itself a satisfying sampling of Tokyo neighbourhoods.