Glodok is the Chinese neighbourhood in north Jakarta. It's a quarter fragrant with incense, wet with puddles, and bedecked with pretty red lanterns.
"Each morning I buy 1,000 frogs from local villages to sell here," says frog trader Supardi. Frog in Indonesian is kodok.
"Run, little guys," I encourage, picking up a bundle of ten frogs all tied together with plastic twine. They blink back, quiet and passive.
He peels skin from flesh as smoothly as stocking from thigh.
Further along the narrow alley are buckets of eels, a large turtle trying to flipper its way up and out of a deep yellow tub, crabs in plastic handcuffs, and a man with a trunk full of small coquelicot and grey snails.
"I want Spain to win the World Cup," declares the man with the snails. He pulls a bent cigarette from his shirt pocket and holds it like a conductor's baton. "I have 1,000 snails in here," he continues, pointing with his cigarette at the trunk on the roadside.