fisch - markt

die schürze, den eismänteln der fische gleich – eng, kein gedränge, harte schlag- geräusche, war es ein beil, welches in den fischbauch fuhr? eine halle mit hohen decken, tages- und elektrisches licht, glitzernder schuppenschleim auf dem steinboden.

ich bitte einen fischer, ein foto von mir zu machen und zeige ihm den roten knopf, den sucher - der blitz ist geladen. schweigend, ausdruckslos greift er nach der kamera. als ich sie ihm reiche, blickt er nicht in den sucher, drückt auf den knopf. aus einem halben meter entfernung schlägt ein blitz aus seiner brust. ich bedanke mich und gehe weiter.

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>sascha, sascha ( (at) ) - berlin, 2006-04-11
"I am in Tokyo in 1999 with my friend Martin. We had been out the night before, probably to Liquid Room to see Takkyu Ishino, and we went home to our hotel in Ikebukuro. Despite having lived on caffeine-pills for some days, he just falls on the bed and I feel like doing the same but I had been having this strange notion of going to the fish market to take photos that morning. It is around 5am, so the time would be just right and I head out again, Martin calling me crazy. At Shibuya station it somehow occurs to me that have forgotten the directions to the market at the hotel room. This is bad in two ways: without being able to read the vast majority of signs, locating something can be virtually impossible. Going back to the hotel on the other hand would mean to lose precious time since the market is most busy at the break of dawn. I decide to try and ask someone. There is a small police station, close to the statue of Hachiko, the faithful dog. I enter and politely ask for assistance, in English. The two officers who are there and obviously slightly bored, get up and approach me. In very broken English, they ask how they could help me. I ask for the fish market. Blank looks on their faces. "Fish market, how do I get there?", now with a bit of gesticulating. Still no reaction but the word "fish" apparently rang a bell. One reaches for a small but thick yellow book on a desk. I figure it is a map of the city. He is flipping though it and I get a glance of its cover: "Crime dictionary - Japanese/English, English/Japanese". They believe that I have come to report a crime! Just as I say "No", the officer goes "Ahhhh" and points at a line in the dictionary. It says "Fish theft". No, no! I move on to more explicit gesticulating. Big fish. The two go along, gesticulating as well. Big fish, being sliced. One is asking if I am looking for a place to slice my fish. No. More gesticulating until a final "Ahhhhhhhhh" by the second officer. Smiling, one hand as if he's holding something, the other hand rotating as if turning a crank. He thinks that he has finally understood me: I'm looking for a place to go fishing. Slowly I realize that this is not really getting anywhere. I'm looking for a way out of the situation. I move towards the door, backwards, still facing the officers. I'm still a bit drunk and the entire situation is starting to feel as if I'm losing control of it. The officers have engaged in a heated discussion, possibly about misunderstandings. Im getting closer to the door and open it. The two look in my direction, I bow, say "arigato" and step out of the police station. I decide to head back for the hotel after all where I grab the directions. Martin is lying on his bed exactly like he had fallen on it earlier. By the time I get to the market it's around 9am, almost over but it still feels outrageously busy to my sleep-deprived senses. I did manage to take some photos, but this encounter sticks even more in my memory."