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The fish market
in Kyoto
by Prof. Hajime John Ishida
In the first week of April I went to old Kyoto: the source
of my nostalgia after some months spent in Greece and other
European countries.
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The April weather in Japan felt all the colder, for it had
already been summery in Athens' March. Yet it was a spring
afternoon. Sakoura, cherry blossoms, were almost
in full bloom in Maruyama Park at Ghion. Finishing lunch,
I asked at a French bistro in the centre of the city on Sanjo
street the way to the fish market. A thin Japanese chef answered
kindly in a soft and round Kyoto accent: to take the train
from Kyoto station, and get off at Tanbagushi, the next stop,
which is located in the market itself.
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Under
a huge dome like the central fish market in Athens, criss-crossing
aisles are lined with innumerable shops selling a great variety
and quantity of fish; yet all of it is for retailers only. |
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A day here begins with seri, the auction sale, around five
in the morning, when a fever of excitement reaches a peak.
Calling voices of auctioneers, sparkles of fish scales; the
heated atmosphere of seri filling the market.
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| Every shop in the market has its chouba, a small
counter for the account-books, where girls are seen with such
smiles, that their charm takes our breath away, amongst men
cutting up fish sometimes as large as a human body. |
| All this is in such contrast
to the quietude in the checkered back streets in Kyoto: old
houses with koushi, wooden lattices, and quaint shops
with noren, a single curtain with decoration as signboard. |
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