The peculiar smell hovering over a fish market will mark it out many metres away. It is usually peopled by a group of betel leaf-chewing, large-limbed women sitting around in a ramshackle dutch shed, presiding over clammy displays with great gusto.

The moment one enters, the thick-as-treacle atmosphere introduces itself with a bang and a battering of the senses — sight, sound and smell. Loud haggling, good natured gossip and hearty hails at potential customers greet one as the smell of decaying flesh assails the nostrils. All around, an incredibly alive and dramatic spectacle unfolds.

Nowhere is the abundance of the ocean more evident than in a big bustling fish market. The floor is covered with plastic sheets upon which rest mounds of exotic catch glistening under shards of ice — from giant whiskered shrimp to glassy-eyed mullets, from slate-coloured shark to slender wriggling eels, from tiny sardines heaped up like silver knives, to grey spongy clams lying in shaggy heaps in baskets. One may also see live crab tied back-to-back setting up an unwieldy dance whilst a sleek cat skulks past on the lookout for scraps from the cleaning block.

While the very first stall may impress you, it is best to look around before settling on a buy. When it comes to fish, the eyes are usually a good indicator of health. Clear eyes means fresh fish. That and firm flesh. The ‘under the gills’ method is also reliable. Fresh fish are characterised by dark red flesh under the gills. Fish vendors are notorious for tricking the uninitiated. It is best to select uncut fish. Sometimes a seller will smear blood on the fish to make it appear fresh. Another trick is selling by ‘plate’. Before striking such a deal take a look at bottom of the plate. It might be hammered up in the middle to give an appearance of quantity!

Once a deal is struck, ask to have your fish cleaned. It is fascinating to watch someone clean prawns. There is a knack to it. The ‘whiskers’ are used as a grip to peel the translucent shells off these pulpy crustaceans. The trick is to save as much of the flesh as possible. Crab cleaning is much more complicated. It comprises a lengthy procedure that involves pricing the carapace off and trimming the appendages while leaving the pincers in place. Note: A handshake from a crab can be incredibly painful!

Just outside the fish market, one will usually find, lined up under loose clouds of flies, the dry-fish bazaar. Here the pace is much slower than inside. There is no sense of urgency, nothing is rotting; just steeped in an incredibly pungent salty-smell. Papery thin slices of fish nudge brown piles of stiff dry prawns. The wrinkled flesh of dry fish looks like engorged parchment, a small bit of which is enough to alert an entire apartment block and spice up white rice like nothing else will on earth. “Rare good ballast for the tummy,” as Samwise Gamgee would say, taters or no taters...