Ann Killion’s postcard

Bending the rules a bit allowed for a chance to sample a restaurant classic — conveyor-belt sushi.

TOKYO — For us media wretches, the most important Olympic sport is eating. Followed only by buscatching.

We need sustenance to do all that buscatching

But this has been a tough food Olympics.

It is frustrating to be in one of the world’s great food cities with very little access. The last time I was in Japan for the Nagano Olympics, I ate sushi for breakfast at the now defunct Tsukiji fish market at 5 a.m., had shabushabu with the Andorran Olympic team and survived eating blowfish — or fugu — sushi.

People come to Japan on food pilgrimages. But the media has been reduced to making pilgrimages to “Family Mart” and “Lawson” convenience stores at midnight to pick over what’s left of the premade sushi and get some wasabi rice crackers.

The cafeteria in the Main Press Center has good food, but the rotation of tempura shrimp, sashimi tuna and rice, and beef curry seemed boring after about 10 days.

But then I discovered my nextdoor neighbor: Sushimaru.

For 14 days visitors were technically not supposed to go to restaurants outside of our hotel, according to our “Press Playbook.” Problem is, my hotel doesn’t have a restaurant. After a few days of hesitation, I decided to bend the rules and go next door.

Sushimaru is a Kaitensushi restaurant: a conveyor belt restaurant. We have these in the states, but if you haven’t been to one, here’s how it works: a conveyor belt sends small plates of sushi around the restaurant, and you grab what looks good. There’s also an electronic tablet to order on, if you don’t see what you want, or if the table next to you grabbed what you had your eye on as it made its way toward you.

What you order on the tablet comes zooming down a different track on a little car, kind of like the robot that retrieves the shot put at track. Each table has a hotwater dispenser for tea and a push button to call the server. At the end of your meal, your server waves some kind of wand over your stack of empty plates — each color represents a different price — and presents you with your bill.

It’s all very efficient and very fun. Every time I’ve been there, most of the tables have been filled by families — little kids love to see the sushi zipping past. I’ve seen young men sitting alone with a towering stack of plates like they’re playing sushi Jenga.

It may not be a foodie destination. But for an Olympic journalist, it seems like a fivestar affair.