Uninitiated

The first bus ride to Chinatown happened early about 6:30am. My express bus coming over the Nuuanu Pali arrived on time on Bishop Street mid block before “above” Hotel Street. The passengers quickly roused themselves awake, got  off, quickly departed making their connecting busses or walking to work. I hurried off to catch a bus continuing west on hotel street. It is still dark. The place at which to meet my connecting bus at, is peopled with numerous others waiting for busses heading west as well as those sitting at the bus stop, engaged in social exchange, awaiting the sunrise. One is asleep in a doorway barely noticeable in the morning darkness.

I board the next bus stopping and dropping off passengers. The interior of the bus appears dimly lit and with the darkness outside, has the appearance of a theatre lobby seating numerous people each in their own thoughts. I sit at one of the numerous unoccupied seats paying close attention to the stops, soon coming to the stop I intend to disembark at. I become attentive. Upon preparing to disembark, paying attention to the necessary protocol advised of by placards instructing me of orderly departure from the bus, I get off. Stepping off of the bus, I am relieved of my safe, uneventful arrival at my stop. However I quickly find myself nose to nose with others patiently standing and waiting for arrival of their busses, finding myself landing, intrusively, uninvited into their midst. Beggingly seeking their forgiveness, they grimace and quickly move aside, sometimes mimicking a dance pattern going left then right until the space and order around ourselves returns.

I walk toward the obvious entry way into the market, where I observe the layout and display of the various food items making up the market, purportedly the way markets are conducted in Asia. This market serves the Philipino, Thai, Chinese, Cambodian, Laotian, and other Asian communities on Oahu. I take on a feigned air of familiarity as I walk through the market. The market workers look at me inviting me to look over their displays,obviously noting me, a “newbie” visitor.I look at the display, left of me, with its varying displays of pork and chicken. The woman behind the counter aligns the various pieces of meat, inviting me to inquire and ask. In close proximity is a man at a heavy cutting board. He brandishes the cleaver with a stern stare. His cutting board is bare and his stare is “unwelcoming”. I quickly move on. To the right of me is an icecubed layout about six feet by four. On this is a lay out of large shrimp, mussel and clam. What catches my eye about this layout is a foot high mound of snail.I recall a past story of someone on a neighboring island who acquired snails and consumed them, disregarding the proper way to prepare it and reportedly ending up in hospital emergency.The story gives this item(snail) a bad reputation as a food source.I suddenly feel challenged to learn to properly prepare snail, thinking that with the notorious reputation that snail carries, why does it appear to be a viable food source? Fugu, the Japanese name for a dish of blowfish liver, similarly carries an edgy reputation if not perfectly prepared. Perhaps snail preparation requires a certification among those familiar with the negative consequences if prepared incorrectly. Yet there is more to view as I move further through the market place.There is a larger counter left, occupying a well lit spacious corner of the market. This counter displays choices of cut chicken and pork, noticeably done in the way Filipino cuisine is prepared. The icy cold breeze emanating from this corner of the market gives the impression that this meat is frozen to the proper temperature.I turn right past a concession not yet opened and displays the tarpaulin cover and ties which note that its owner has not yet arrived.I soon come across a well supplied display of fish.The fish is iced to imply freshness. I immediately recall advice to look at the eye of the fish to determine freshness. Adequate air conditioning and fan is installed which erases the “fishy” odor so typical of fishmarkets of the past. The ice cold and fresh air circulating above makes it comfortably easy to prepare a purchase without closely checking the eye condition to confirm freshness. Knowing that fish markets reputedly go to fish auctions at the major pier just a few blocks away, adds to lessen my fears about the freshness of fish at this display. Detecting freshness by fish odor is made very difficult in decision making due to the markets air conditioning.  Called to mind, is if your physical senses are appeased, it is so easy to let your guard down and become vulnerable.   I soon arrive at  a  highlight  of anyones visit to this fish market.   The green frog display is a three feet by three feet almost cubed tank with green frogs.  Frogleg  is a purported  delicacy  I am  very yet unfamiliar with and am uninitiated to.   I further refuse to investigate   into preparation and consumption of the rest of the frog.   A respite is viewing  the abalone, in great numbers quietly  cling to the sides of the tank is a clear testimony that  peace in spite of overcrowding is possible and  their ease in accepting  them as a benign food source.       

No longer do I feel the confidence I once had in shopping for groceries. Those days of sauntering through Foodland, Times or Safeway, effortlessly picking up my groceries and paying for them have given way to an awareness of respect and protocol in honor of those in the industries of food commodity and preparation.