Forget the souvenirs, take me to the supermarket

By the time you're reading this, I'll be in Japan.

As I write this, though, I'm still sitting in California and already thinking about what might be the highlight of my shopping adventures: the local supermarket near my friend's house.

I know. Not exactly the glamorous Japan shopping story people expect.

Most travelers dream about department stores, luxury brands, or filling a suitcase with souvenirs. Meanwhile, I'm looking forward to standing in front of a shelf of noodles for twenty minutes trying to decide which varieties absolutely must come home with me.

To be fair, I won't have much time for shopping on this trip. That's probably a good thing because I have absolutely no self-control when it comes to Japanese supermarkets.

The moment I walk through those automatic doors, I turn into a person who suddenly believes she needs six different kinds of furikake, seasonal snacks, instant miso soup, tea, curry roux, and at least three items she has never tried before.

And because I know myself so well, I'm actually bringing an extra empty suitcase.

Not for clothes.

Not for souvenirs.

For groceries.

My Japanese husband fully supports this plan. In fact, he may be the reason for it. Long before I've packed for the trip, he's already started mentioning things he'd love me to bring back. There's always a particular noodle, snack, seasoning, or random food item he's been craving that we just can't get here in California.

I sometimes suspect he doesn't see me as his wife when I travel to Japan. He sees me as a highly specialized import business with baggage allowance privileges.

What makes me happiest is that I'm not searching for rare or fancy items. It's the everyday things that excite me most. The products Japanese families toss into their shopping carts without a second thought. The noodles people grew up eating. The snacks that only appear for a season. The flavors and little conveniences that remind me of life in Japan.

There's something comforting about shopping where local families shop. It feels less like tourism and more like slipping back into a familiar rhythm, even if only for an hour.

Of course, the biggest challenge won't be deciding what to buy.

It will be convincing myself that the suitcase is full.

Because somehow there is always one more packet of noodles, one more snack, and one more "limited edition" treat that simply has to come home with me.

So while other visitors may return with designer goods and souvenir bags, I'm hoping to come back with everyday Japanese treasures and enough treats to keep my husband happy for at least a few weeks.

And if the suitcases happen to weigh exactly 50 pounds each, well, that's purely coincidental.