We arrived to Los Angeles and immediately I found myself swimming in a sweet river of foreign foods made familiar through constant and unbridled exposure.

Sushi is around every block. I ate it at every given opportunity. California rolls were the favorites (how could they not be?!). But I also tried some spicy tuna. The best moment was when I tasted handmade sushi, lovingly prepared by my aunt, a Japan native. Bliss. Pure bliss. From there I went on to drink Boba tea, a style of milk tea in which balls of tapioca are placed at the bottom. It becomes a game of trying to get the balance between sweet, creamy tea and sticky bursts of tapioca that fit perfectly in the wide straw.

Picnic at the Hollywood Bowl!

In Santa Monica I sampled Omusubi, essentially a ball of rice filled with assortments of meats and sauces wrapped in seaweed. Glorious. Because they did not quite fill up the appetites of a bunch of young males tired from a day of swimming in the icy Pacific, we then visited “Holy Guacamole,” a store that hits you first with a ludicrous mural depicting Michelangelo’s God reaching to man but with a Guacamole taco in hand, and then with the taco that makes the mural seem a little less out of whack.

And how could a trip out to the west coast be complete without a mention of the ever glorious In-N-Out Burger? A Double Double Animal Style with fries is all you really need to be happy. How do I describe the fries? Like they were fried. How do I respond to the claim that Five Guys is better than In-N-Out? With Laughter.