Because the morning was overcast I tardied in the hostel's cafeteria until the cleaners threw me out at 11:30am. So, by the time I remembered there was a Sunday only market at Fischmarkt, all that was left were a bunch of smashed cantaloupes, some stinky fish boxes and a shitfaced guy in a stained tuxedo, bow tie askew and a plastic cup of stale beer still held tight in his right hand.
There aren't even any decent looking coffee shops in this part of town. Unlike the Pike Place Market back home in Seattle, Hamburg's fish market really still is about the fish, even though its basically all imported these days from Iceland and Canada. The tourists congregate elsewhere I guess.
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