Something Fishy at the Fish markets.

When friends recently suggested a trip to the Sydney fish markets I was filled with joy. I have the pleasure of visiting the fish markets often through the year and it is always a fun and interesting experience. It is such a dynamic place despite the hardships involved. The crush of people, the smell of the fish, the search for a place to sit, finding a drink and then defending it all from the ravenous sea gulls, while watching some “want-to-be captain” reverse park his boat into a spot that’s way too small for it. It all adds up to a fun afternoon next to the water, but talking with friends in the hot afternoon sun, a few bottles of wine or a few cold beers all the hardships are soon forgotten, it is one of Sydney’s great Sunday afternoons. In fact a trip to the fish markets almost has a primordial experience about it it’s like making a connection with a time when we were hunter gatherers, when people had to go out and catch a meal. 

I meet my friends in the city and I eagerly walked the short distance from the city to the markets with friends in tow anticipating the pleasant afternoon ahead, I almost outpaced them in my enthusiasm to get there. Imagine my horror as I arrive at the markets to be directed by my friends to one of the new café style establishments on the perimeter of the markets to buy my fish. As I walked among the aluminium chairs, pushing past gormless people gazing trance like at the pre-prepared food in the bain-maries I could feel my joy being sucked out of me. There was no hunter gather experience there was no selecting my fish from the ice filled counters, there was not even any challenge in finding a seat and there was certainly no water view. A trip to the markets had become a “shopping center  experience it was so “convenient”. I could be sitting inside any café in any shopping center in Sydney. I looked out over the sea of cars driving up and down trying to park it was as if my life had been taken over by convenience. Everything was convenient, the car park was convenient, and the food was convenient, the tables and chairs were convenient, even the wide screen TV showing a sport was conveniently positioned; in fact I didn't even need to leave the café to buy a beer it was all right there, conveniently.

As I sat in this air conditioned convenience with my overcooked battered fish swimming in hot oil sipping my tepid beer I could only envy the people down next to the water in the hot afternoon sun, warm wine in hand searching for a seat covered in sea gull deposits, sea food balanced precariously on a tray, pushing past the sweaty masses. There was only one thing to do. Hey mate! Get me another beer while you’re up will you? I don’t want to miss this guy trying to reverse park his car into that tiny, little parking spot.