Scared of Sushi

Since leaving Okinawa, I have been trying to put off the inevitable Asian food craving I knew would come.

But honestly? It's becoming unbearable. Three years makes something become part of you.

I miss it. I need it back.
I need fried shrimp tempura and yakitori on rice and soba noodles and eggdrop soup and miso soup and raw tuna with soy sauce. I'm going crazy. I can't go another day without tasting Arashi's sizzling, steaming fried rice. With garlic sauce. I need green onions in my soup broth and curry powder on my chicken. And curry. But not just any curry. Coco's curry. My usual. (Chicken cutlet. Half size. Spice Level Zero. With mango milk- and if I'm extra hungry, a bowl of corn soup. With some naan bread. Garlic cheese naan. Arigato gozaimas.)

And Family Mart. That beautiful, wonderful, magnificent Japanese version of a 7/11 on every other street corner that will blow any American 7/11 out of the water. I need Family Mart. And one of those dumpling things with curry chicken in the middle, and some apple tea. Oh my gosh... I need an ice cold bottle of apple tea. I'm dying. I never went a week without drinking apple tea. I brought it to school.

Dear God, help me. I even miss wasabi. I hate wasabi.

And those weird little glass bottles with the lemon and the green plus sign on the front. That stuff was like carbonated lemon juice, but I loved it.

And bean sprouts on my salad.

And Hi-Chews.

And...oh my gosh... Japanese McDonalds. This is not fair.

And you know what?

Nothing here is going to taste like any of that.

My friend who lived in Tokyo for three months said she found this sushi place where the Japanese food is actually up to par. She gave me a brochure. We spent lunch talking about how much we missed those dumplings from Family Mart. 

I want to go there, but I'm scared.

Scared that it won't be good enough.

Or what if I just can't tell any more?

Or what if no matter how good it tastes....

... it isn't the same?