Photo/Illutration A corner of the fish market allows visitors to observe a view of the tuna auction through a glass window. (Lisa Vogt)

I had loved Tokyo’s old Tsukiji outer fish market with its colorful alleys and bewildering maze of people and vehicles chaotically dodging each other. That noisy and colorful market was not laid out with gawking tourists in mind, which made the place magical as workers and visitors engaged in one big dance somehow making it all come together.

I had avoided the market’s new location in Toyosu for the past several years. But I told myself it was high time I got over mourning the past and moved forward. And who knows? I might be pleasantly surprised.

Toyosu is on reclaimed land made from the rubble of the Great Kanto Earthquake of 1923. Ideas for a good name were tossed around, and it was decided that “Toyosu” would be it. The kanji means “prosperous area with future development.”

Until the 1990s, Toyosu, with its convenient water transport options, was mainly made up of industries like power plants, warehouses and dockyards. The waterfront area rapidly developed, and when people talked of Toyosu at that time, often it would be about LalaPort, a big shopping mall.

In 2001, it was announced that the Tsukiji fish market would be moved to a former Tokyo Gas Co. site in Toyosu. It was a controversial decision because many believed the fish market should stay in Tsukiji. It didn’t help that the Toyosu land had to be decontaminated, as it contained high levels of toxins.

But the decision was final, and as these things go, the world’s biggest fish market opened for business in 2018 at Toyosu.

So, in all honesty, how was it? Apples and oranges.

The market buildings reminded me of a government-run hospital or office--sterile and perhaps efficient but completely lacking in charm. But, come to think of it, the Central Wholesale Market is run by the government.

In this new market, visitors and workers are completely separated, as they should be, considering safety and hygiene. Visitors can only see the goings-on through thick glass windows. With the weak yen and over-tourism becoming a problem, the timing of moving to Toyosu could not have been better. The old market would not have been able to accommodate all the people who surely would have descended upon it.

So, while I didn’t fall head over heels with the new market, I get it. The clock can’t be turned back, and perhaps, with time, I’ll start to love Toyosu, too.

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This article by Lisa Vogt, a Washington-born and Tokyo-based photographer, originally appeared in the Sept. 1 issue of Asahi Weekly. It is part of the series “Lisa’s Things, Places and Events,” which depicts various parts of the country through the perspective of the author, a professor at Aoyama Gakuin University.