Kitkats are bastards

When I was first preparing to travel to Japan, one of my friends made me a list of things I had to do while I was there. Most of them were easily achieved, and made my experience that much better. However, there was one item on the list that proved far more difficult than the rest. While it seemed to be completely within the realm of possibility originally, it came to be my greatest nemesis(other than snakes, planes, food poisoning, and ghosts, of course.) This monumental quest she tasked me with? Finding strange and wonderful flavors of Kitkats.

When I began my journey into the unknown region that geographers call The Japan, I had assumed that these Kitkats would be plentiful. Perhaps even flowing in rivers from gilded chocolate fountains, run by pug butlers, but I was wrong. 

I began my search by checking the small convenience stores in the airport, on the way to my hotel from the airport, from the hotel to dinner, and so on and so forth. While these minimarts and convenience shops did provide a bizarre set of fast foods that I had never before laid eyes on(Such as rice triangles filled with what I can only guess to have been deliciousness), they could not provide me with what I was looking for. 

Each lowly candy aisle I searched seemed to be more pitiful than the last. While one would have a full sized Kitkat bar, the next might only have "fun sized", which I assure you is fun for no one, other than the devil who laughs at those having to unwrap multiple minuscule candy bars to get the satisfaction of one! These may be amusing for use of tricking kids on Halloween, but otherwise they are completely pointless.

When the smaller stores stopped me, I moved on to the bigger ones. 7 elevens(They're bigger in Japan.), grocery stores, and the like. What I found was barren candy racks, reminiscent of old west ghost towns (no Kitkats).  As I walked in the oppressive heat, like a pilgrim on a mad journey through the Gobi desert, I began to lose heart. In a grand gesture I dropped to my knees in the middle of Shibuya Crossing and yelled "WHY GOD?!?!?!"(I actually said "damn" under my breath, but close enough.)

Despair was my only friend, heat my constant companion, and sadness the only sustenance. I dined on it day and night (Among other things, such as delicious basement curry), wanting nothing other than the sweet embrace of a variety of strangely flavored candies! It seemed that my journey wouldn't end in anything but suffering, until I stumbled upon one final bastion of hope. As I sulked my way through the underground mall at Osaka Station the words jumped out at me, like some neon kangaroo, wanting nothing but to bring me salvation in its pouch. 

It read: SUPER Market. I could only assume that as the 'super' was capitalized that they had to carry what I sought. I walked into the store, a traveller weary from thousands of miles(maybe one?) of hard travel across a desolate wasteland. My vision swam with thousands of images, Kitkats dancing in lakes of melon flavoring, crispy wafers diving into glistening pools of strawberry chocolate. It was beautiful. 

However, as is often true of wonderful things, it was not true. The candy aisle did possess flavored Kitkats, but in only two varieties. Dark chocolate and green tea... CHILD'S PLAY! Flavors that existed elsewhere, and served no purpose other than to ignite the fury of my unquenched rage. I felt the urge to flip over all of the tables, knock down the aisles, burn the remains, and leave nothing but dust, to let no one else feel the disappointment and hurt that I had, but then like a beam of orange light they found me.

Guiding away from my troublesome fate like Virgil for Dante. I passed through the seven rings of lesser candy, through the aisle, and into the orange glory of Paradiso. Sitting on the shelf like they were nothing special was a small package of orange flavored Andes mints. I knelt down (They were on the bottom shelf) and paid homage to what I could only assume to be the work of the gods. 

I picked them up and cradled them gingerly. Together we made the short journey through purgatory and onward to the checkout counter. I handed over my three-hundred yen, and they were mine. I did not dare open them on the ride home, for fear that the heat might melt their supple frames. As I sit here now, a mere three hours later, the box is half gone. 

Each bite was a new nirvana bursting forth in my mouth. Every moment was a torrent of beautiful fruit flavors dancing a ballet upon my tongue. It was by far one of the most superb chocolate confections that I have ever tasted, and I do not think I will find anything of it's caliber again any time soon... Unless of course I manage to find those damned Kitkats!