The Price of Fruit in Japan

A mango is a mango.  The price between two mangoes should not differ by a whole digit.  In other words, the cost of a mango displayed on a neatly-typed card should not include a zero at the end of three numbers.  I should be long past the shock over the price of fruit in Japan.  I've grown up marveling at $100 watermelons, cube-shaped cantaloupe with $50 price-tags, and $10 apples with calligraphy shadowed onto the skin.  So, why, on this particular day am I shocked by and scoff at a mango that costs 1980 yen (approximately US$20)?  Perhaps because as a child I never had to worry about paying for such fruit.  Now that I'm on my own, no parents to remind me they simply were not going to dish out that kind of cash I'm shocked all over again.  It's a piece of fruit.  Some food is worth the cash we dole out.  Sushi, yes.  For that, I'll pay.  Watermelons, no.

There was no way in hell I was spending $20 on a mango. Which is why when I spied the orange balls on a shelf at my neighborhood grocery, I did a double-take at the price.  The tag read 198 yen.  That I assumed this was wrong, that the missing zero made me wonder whether it was pried correctly, this is what troubles me.

On a recent trip home, I stopped in at Whole Foods and seeing the chalked sign, "Five mangoes, $5" I did just about did a cartwheel for all to see.  That's about right.  A mango should not cost much more than a dollar in the US.  In the country of cubed melons, there may be a reason a mango costs $20.  In the States, a mango at that price better remove my wrinkles, add ten years of bliss to my life, and make chocolate a necessity in losing weight.

I bought two of the 198 yen mangoes.  It's the principle of the pricing.  That it was missing the elusive zero was cause for allowing myself to splurge.  I brought them home and promptly dug into the orange fleshy sweetness.

Sadly, it tasted like it cost 198 yen.  The color of the meat inside was more yellow than orange (never a good sign), and in spooning out the substance I so looked forward to I noticed it resembled something stringy and nothing the pudding-like softness I had assumed would be inside.

Sticking with principle (always a good excuse) I decide to splurge.  The 1980 yen mango must justify the cost.  Yes?  I tell myself I'm doing this for science, or if that reasoning doesn't work, in order to have good writing material, and with these thoughts in mind make the trek back out to find this over-priced piece of fruit.  I'm giddy as I anticipate.  Its flavor must be magical.  Delving into unchartered territory, I have never paid this much for fruit but convinced this all makes sense I plunk down my card.  (Note:  I'm confessing here my husband actually paid for this mango--credit card bills go straight to him and not me.  Thanks, luv.)

Whether this mango warrants the price tag is questionable.  Certainly, it was much better than the 198 yen piece I brought home.  Good as it was, it wasn't $20-good.  It was a mango.  The one-dollar Whole Foods mangoes were better.  I find myself bothered by the fact Japan's fruit-sellers can get away with charging these prices.  I miss buying a bag of nectarines for $4.00, the box of blackberries I buy for almost nothing and then scarf down, fingers stained and teeth purple.

Alas, the price of fruit in Japan.  A mango is a mango.  One piece of fruit should not contain four or more digits in yen.  With no reason to believe my objection will be heard, I wonder what must happen here in Japan for me to buy fruit without completely emptying my wallet.