An Ode to Onigiri

 It was 10:00pm, I had just gotten off my first plane ride (14 hours straight), and was on the other side of the world from the place I knew as home.

I was a bit overwhelmed. 

It was the middle of what had been a several-hour drive in the pitch black when somebody from the front of the passenger van spoke into the quiet of a tired but slightly nervous group of high school girls.

"We're making a stop. Anybody hungry?"

Yeah, we were a bit hungry. Flights had been delayed by hours, and we had arrived to a pitch black night, not sure of the sights or opportunities that lay beyond our limited field of vision. We pulled into a parking lot of a 7-11, and after stooping out of the van and stretching our legs, we made our way in.

-

The 7-11 was a stark contrast from the inky, sticky night outside. Bright and cool, we felt a bit out of sorts. In front of us stood a wall, stacks with covered bowls and plastic wrapped meals. One look at our bewildered faces, our guide took a step forward and started explaining what was in front of us.

Ramen. Bento. Soba. Sando. The list went on, with nothing sounding familiar to my ears.

Feeling something strange welling up in my stomach that had been looming ever since the plane took off, I swallowed it down and opened my mouth.

"Is there anything that's just simple?"

Our guide nodded, grabbed a triangular-shaped package and laid it in my hands.

"Onigiri."

"Onigiri?"

"Yup. It's a convenience store staple. Rice and seaweed. Whatever fillings you want. That one has tuna."

I could handle that, I decided to myself. I had made a personal promise to myself that I would never say no to trying something when asked, and I decided that this would be a good place to start. The picky eater I used to be as a kid would be in awe.

-

Gathering our goods, we checked out and started to eat our meal on the curb outside. Our guide scoffed a bit as I struggled to unpackaged my meal, but decided that he should help, lest I ingest plastic with my first meal in Japan.

With my first bite, I realized this was just what I needed. Something simple, just to tiptoe into the realm of Japanese food. What is considered one of the most mundane meals a person can have in Japan served as a comfort in a place that felt the exact opposite of what I had known all of my life. 

Rice, seaweed, tuna. What more could a girl ask for. 

-

It was the night before we were due to get back on a plane to Wisconsin. After experiencing my first typhoon, my stomach had gone from a swarm of frenzied butterflies to a low simmer of hunger and a bit of premature heartache about leaving my host grandmother's cooking.

In the cool kitchen that served as a spot of light in the dark night, my host grandmother asked me what I'd like as a quick bite to eat before finishing up a bit of last minute packing. I thought about it for a second, racking my brain for what could be something quick to make and light, but also simple and satisfying.

"Could we make some onigiri?"

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