tacos in japan

No matter where I go, I look for my people first. *mi gente latino*

I stare out the window, straining my neck to get my first glimpse of Japan.

“First time?” asks the man next to me.

“Yes,” I kindly respond - my mind full of every little thing that can go wrong while I find my way to the hotel. The closest person to me is on a plane somewhere between China and Japan, and I am unsure if my phone will have service.

“Porque tu corazón es más frío que un helado” plays in my headphones. Of course, I cling to the comfort of Mexican music to ease my mind, and of course, it is the song I am listening to when I land.

“Tacos? You went to Japan and your favorite food was tacos!?” Shame and embarrassment overtake me until something clicks. Yes, that’s correct. I ate many delicious meals, but the most memorable? Tres Hermanos Tacos. You can take the girl out of Mexico, but not the Mexico out of the girl - or whatever they say.

I guess this is true wherever I go. My favorite meal from the last time I was in New York? Birria grilled cheese from Birria LES. Towards the end of my first week in Taiwan, I cried. The spice did not hit the same. I missed my mom’s food. No one around me looked like me. I heard a Spaniard song throughout my three weeks there, and that was it. I was losing it. I am not used to not being around other Mexicans, much less away from our food. In hindsight, this seems kind of silly, and by the time I had to come home, I didn’t want to. Still, that first week was rough. Who am I without spicy food?

When I got home from Japan, my aunt told me, nearly in tears, about when her, my aunts, uncles, and my dad would sit around the TV watching Mazinger Z - thinking of Fuji as a far away destination that they could never reach, or ¿que vamos a estar haciendo allá?

Being the first in my bloodline to go to a new country? Damn right I’m gonna represent. And miss my family. And our food. I know it took years of hard work and dreaming.

There is something beautiful about being across the world and seeing someone like you. Someone who speaks your language and has the same culture as you. Someone who has likely gone through your same struggle. Someone who understands you.

I love seeing my people in other countries you would not expect us to be in, and most importantly, I love seeing my people thrive where you would not expect us to thrive.

So, tacos in Japan? Hell yeah.