Photo by Dylan Boroczi
More than anything else, when I talk to expats about how they’re adjusting to their new home — whether it’s here or the 5 months I spent in France — the things they miss are almost always food. People who have long gotten used to Japanese “squatter” toilets and ritualized social structures, who know keigo as well as English and love everything about Japanese cuisine, still have those one or two beloved items that they would sell their soul to eat again. In Paris, it was almost impossible to get a taco, and all of the Californians I knew were going into withdrawal. In Tokyo, my boyfriend is pining for American-style pizza, which is nonexistent here. And both of us miss Chipotle.
