I walked about half an hour from the Circular Quay area this early afternoon to the Sydney Fish Market, the second largest fish market in the world in terms of diversity of seafood (after, of course, Tsukiji Market in Tokyo). I was so excited; we ran out of time three years ago to come this market, and so this time, I came ready with a big appetite and my DSLR in hand. What I had not mentally prepared myself for were the hoards and hoards of mainland Chinese tourists running around with zero order or awareness that other people were shopping and eating at the market other than themselves and their own traveling groups. I saw tourists yelling at each other to order food in Mandarin, Cantonese, and Teochiew, literally running with large trays of massive stir-fried king crab and rock lobsters, trying to frantically get tables to sit at. I watched as others squabbled with each other in a variety of dialects for cutting each other in the “queues” (they were not true queues, just crowds of people trying to push and shove their way to the cashier to order and pay). I almost witnessed two different men crash into each other with their large trays of crustaceans — that would have been one extremely expensive and smelly mess. I was so overwhelmed with the crowds, the rudeness, and the variety of seafood and things to order that it took me over 45 minutes to decide what I wanted to eat and sit down.
I enviously stared at groups of five to six tourists, all gathering around a massive tray of rock lobster over noodles, animalisticly digging their fingers into the shells of the crustaceans, slobbering away at their prized seafood and licking their fingers clean of the delicious juices and cooking sauces. Here, you can hand pick your fish or crustacean of choice out of a tank and have them stir fry, fry, boil, steam, or saute in about eight different methods, all Asian style or “fish and chip” style. Little petite me could never eat a three-kilo lobster over noodles by herself (and I also wouldn’t have paid what was probably over $450 AUD for that lobster or crab, either. The prices here were NOT cheap). In the end, I settled on half a fried lobster tail, one Singapore chili-stir fried prawn that was the size of my hand, and a delicious “wok hei” fragrant plate of stir fried seafood mein with fatty, crispy skinned salmon, prawns, calamari, chicken and egg. Those salmon bites were some of the fattiest, richest pieces I’ve had in my life. And the bits of seared skin were crackling in my mouth. That meal was worth every dollar I paid. The lobster tail was slightly overcooked, but the flavor was buttery and very sweet. And the chili prawn was perfectly cooked with a sauce that left me wanting more. That was probably the biggest prawn I’d ever eaten in my life.
And as there were just a few bites left of my beloved noodle dish, to disrupt my intensity with my food, a group of five Cantonese tourists barged over to my table and spoke in loud Cantonese, saying “This girl’s almost done. Let’s get her table.” I looked at them and glared and pushed their stuff away from my bag as they encroached on my space. I made sure to stay there and whipped out my phone as they tried to move me out of my seat. This was my space as long as I was here, and there was no way in hell I’d let some ill-mannered, loud-mouthed tourists from Guangzhou, my fatherland, take my space here.
As I was selecting my food earlier, a Chinese tourist made eye contact with me and noticed we were both using the same model of Canon DSLR. He asked me in Mandarin if I was from China, and I responded back in the same language that I was from the U.S. He let out a big relieved breath and laughed. He revealed that he was here on holiday from Guangzhou, but he came here to Australia thinking he would have escaped Chinese people. Yet ever since he’s arrived, all he is surrounded by are more Chinese people from the mainland!
I’m fine with them being here — I am of Asian decent, after all — but I just wish they had better manners and self-awareness, and left me to my seafood eating alone. And I thought this after I passed a table with a foot-high pile of prawn shells and lobster shells. These weren’t even on plates — just on the table itself. As they would say in Chinese, “yi dian limao dou mei you.”
