I ambled along through the shallow puddles, curtains of drizzle fell from between the towering multi story buildings around me.

Adorned in my lime green rain mac I stood out in the sea of flowing transparent umbrellas, bobbing like jellyfish amongst one another.

I turned the corner to be greeted with never ending corridors of seafood. People scurry from one stall to another with the points of their umbrellas narrowly missing my eyes as I passed through. I was looking for the Daiwa Sushi, where I had heard people lined up from 6am to get the best sushi from the market, I already knew I was risking a long wait arriving at 9am but hoped the murky skies had deterred the swathes of tourists.

Still weaving through the maze of stalls, I gawped at the treasure trove of fresh seafood. Crabs clambering over one another in water displays, shrimp still wiggling their antennae, and Tuna heads the size of my own. After 20 minutes and some help from a local door man I finally find my sushi.

With small wooden sliding doors with a sign in Japanese I would have easily walked past if it wasn’t for the mass of regimentally queued customers. Already 10 deep I jumped in the queue, leering through the steamy windows I watch as the smiling chefs create delicate platters of sashimi. Bowls of steaming miso are handed out amongst the customers whilst small cups of fresh green tea are sipped. My mouth filled with saliva at the anticipation of warm miso and tea whilst being dripped on from the soggy canopy above me.

I finally snagged a seat for one as a group of three leave an empty corner chair. The chef asked if I would prefer the tasting platter and I cautiously agreed. Miso and tea are presented to me in a theatrical pouring display, I hastily clasped it between my cold wet hands to gain feeling back before attempting to hold chopsticks. Within minutes an array of nori wrapped delicacies are placed in front of me with descriptions of each item cheerfully explained by the chef.

“This is sea urchin”, he joyfully pointed at what could only be described as tar coloured phlegm. I nodded and decided to get this one over and done with first, saving the salmon to rescue my taste buds after. I make the grave error of placing the whole roll in my mouth whilst being watched intensely for my opinion. Cheeks full of oozing urchin I look around for more tea to wash it down fast.

“Good?” asked the chef, I nod profusely holding back the tears from the large amounts of wasabi I hadn’t realised were stuck to the side of the roll I’d eaten so quickly.