Grocery shopping used to be a ritual. Now it’s a negotiation.
Foreign residents across Japan are recalculating their daily lives—not just in yen, but in perception. Olive oil is up by a third. Eggs have doubled. Chicken wings (flats, specifically) are elusive. One respondent told me, “It’s really affected what I eat and the way I cook.” Another confessed to cutting back on business expenses, stretching resources to reach a wider client base.
These aren’t dramatic protests. They’re deliberate recalibrations—less about resistance, more about survival.
A Filipino-American woman told me, “The Filipino in me expects bulk. The American in me expects variety. Japan offers neither.” She added, “In the U.S., a higher price means better quality. In Japan, it means better packaging.”She misses being able to buy just one onion—not a whole bag.
A Filipino woman who returned to Japan after ten years said, “Before leaving Japan in 2010, international school fees were manageable. Now they’re outrageous.” She’s cut back on travel, streaming movies instead of going to the theatre. “Everything is expensive but looks cheaply made,” she said. “Even snacks feel smaller. I buy less now, but I’m spending more.”
A Mexican respondent said, “We stopped buying tortillas. Eggs are cheaper.” She shops only when there’s a sale. “Fiesta Farm used to be our go-to. Now we only go when there’s a discount.” She’s changed how she cooks, simplified her meals, and stopped chasing variety. “I don’t complain. I just adapt.”
Kai Stone, a Jamaican writer living in Japan for over seven years, says her grocery bill has nearly doubled. “I now have to pay closer attention to what I put in my trolley—whether it’s a need or just a want,” she said. “A 5kg bag of rice I paid less than ¥1,600 for two years ago is now pushing ¥4,000.” She’s cut back on eating out, makes coffee at home, and shops across multiple stores based on price and availability. “Inflation has made me more alert,” she said. “I’m prepared to shift if needed.”
Some items still feel surprisingly fair. Haircuts, rent, even movie tickets—if you know when to go. One respondent said they now take advantage of weekday discounts at the cinema, and shop at AEON instead of Maruetsu. Another found joy in paying more for kimonos, describing them as “definitely worth it.”
Tokyo’s prices, despite recent hikes, remain low compared to other global cities. Rent for a central three-bedroom averages around ¥390,000. In New York, that same space would cost over ¥1.2 million. London? About ¥800,000. Even groceries, while climbing, haven’t reached the sticker shock levels seen in places like Los Angeles or Sydney.
But perception isn’t just about numbers. It’s about cultural calibration.
One long-term resident said their sense of “cheap” or “expensive” fluctuates with the yen-dollar exchange rate. Another, reflecting on a recent trip to the U.S., noted that they had to be more careful there—despite Japan’s own inflation.
“Prices skyrocketed in the States,” they said. “Here, at least you get a warning.”
That warning—whether it’s a sign at the register or a press release from a snack company—matters. It’s part of Japan’s pricing etiquette. A kind of social contract.
According to a recent McKinsey & Co. survey, 67% of Japanese consumers now list rising prices as their top concern—the highest level of inflation anxiety across all APAC countries surveyed. Over half have adopted new shopping behaviors, including delaying purchases and switching to discount stores. Shopping frequency is up, but so is caution. Only 7% of consumers express optimism about the economy.
For many foreign residents, Japan’s price hikes feel disruptive but manageable. Few expressed outrage. Most spoke of adapting, adjusting, or simply “paying because you can’t fight it.” One person described their budgeting approach as “more conscious, but not panicked.” Another said they’ve stopped tracking prices altogether—“I just buy what I need and deal with it later.”
A newcomer from Europe said they were surprised by how affordable rent was in Tokyo compared to Paris, but baffled by the cost of fruit. “I paid ¥1,200 for a bunch of grapes. I thought it was a mistake.” Another respondent, originally from Southeast Asia, said they’ve cut back on dining out entirely. “Even ramen feels like a luxury now.”
That kind of acceptance may have more in common with Japanese consumers than expected—less reactive, more resigned, and shaped by decades of price stability.
“The sentiment that price hikes are evil is receding,” says Hideyuki Okamoto of Akagi Nyugyo. Compared to 2016, he notes, the public is more accepting—less likely to protest, more likely to brace. In Japan, even inflation arrives with a warning.
But for foreign residents, some accustomed to sudden jumps and unclear billing, this rhythm can feel oddly considerate.
And yet, consideration doesn’t mean trouble-free. The impact is real. People are cooking differently, shopping differently, budgeting differently. Some are cutting back on travel, others on entertainment. One respondent said they’ve stopped buying imported goods altogether—“I just can’t justify it anymore.”
Another said they’ve started batch cooking to stretch ingredients further. “It’s not just about saving money—it’s about staying ahead of the next hike.”
Kai, reflecting on her own family’s choices, said inflation has prompted serious long-term planning. After her father passed away, she redirected funds earmarked for travel back to Jamaica toward her daughter’s juku fees. “No regrets,” she said. “It was a conscious choice to invest in her education.”
Foreign residents may not always understand the choreography behind Japan’s pricing etiquette, but many are learning to move with it. Not because it makes sense everywhere—but because it makes sense here.
There’s no single way to experience inflation. For some, it’s a slow erosion of comfort. For others, it’s a test of adaptability. But in Japan, even economic discomfort comes with a kind of structure. A warning. A rhythm. Prices rise. Notices go out. People adjust. That’s the cycle. A foreigners who have built a life here for the long haul have learned to dance to Japan’s beat.
