“Why did you come to Japan?” – that’s probably the question I get asked a lot. And honestly? The answer is more complex than a simple “I’ve always loved the culture.” It wasn’t a straightforward plan, but rather a path that unfolded step by step. A journey that began with anime on VHS tapes, led me into the daily life of a Japanese “salaryman,” and eventually helped me find my own way.
The Spark: Neon Genesis Evangelion on an Old Videotape
Like many of my generation in the 90s, my first contact with Japan was colorful, loud, and full of energy balls. Pokémon, Dragon Ball, Sailor Moon – these shows were on TV and part of childhood. But eventually, the interest faded.
Until a friend of my sister’s brought over some videotapes: Neon Genesis Evangelion (in Japanese with German subtitles). My sister didn’t really watch them, but I was immediately hooked. This was different. Darker, more complex, more adult than anything I had seen before.
That was the real starting signal. From then on, I dove deeper – Japanese music (J-Pop, J-Rock), video games, even Japanese TV dramas. It was no longer just a hobby, but a fascination that went far beyond anime and manga.
From Hobby to Plan: The First Trip and a Stroke of Luck
In high school, I took a Japanese course at an adult education center. Once a week, more for fun than with any concrete plan. After graduation, like so many, I faced the big question: “What now?”
The answer was somehow obvious: The only thing that consistently felt right was that Japanese class. So, I enrolled in Japanese Studies.
Shortly before that, I got incredibly lucky: my grandmother invited me on a trip to Japan. For the first time, I could see the country with my own eyes, feel the atmosphere, and get a picture beyond the media. Those two weeks confirmed what I already suspected – I wanted more.
During my exchange year at a Japanese university, I then experienced real everyday life. I made Japanese friends, attended lectures in Japanese, and quickly noticed: People here are incredibly interested and open, simply because you come from abroad.
More than once, I was approached by people asking if I wanted to practice English with them. Back then, with my shaky high school English and even less self-confidence, I usually declined politely. Today, I have to smile about it – I’d probably say yes now.
The Leap: A One-Year Experiment Called Tokyo
After university, it was clear: I wanted to really find out. Could I find a job there? Could I build a life? In 2014, I packed my bags for a working holiday year – a test run, limited to twelve months. The deal with myself: If it works out, I’ll stay. If not, I’ll go back to Germany and find a job there.
I had no job lined up, no apartment, but luckily, I had good friends in Tokyo. I spent the first few days with a couple I knew in Kunitachi, then with a friend in Togoshi. During that time, I was visiting various real estate agents, frantically searching for an apartment.
Apartment hunting was my first real hurdle. As a foreigner with a visa for only one year, I was rejected by one landlord after another. Eventually, I found a company that also rented to people like me – albeit at a higher price than usual. No matter, I was just happy to finally have my own four walls.
Looking back today, I sometimes wonder how I even managed to navigate the bureaucratic jungle. Health insurance, taxes, residence permit – I’ve suppressed a lot of it. I only remember one thing crystal clear: The representative from the public broadcaster (NHK) was at my door almost immediately after I moved in and had me sign the contract right then and there. That part went smoothly. Too smoothly, if you ask me.
The Reality Check: A Suit in Midsummer and Handwritten Reports
The job search was an adventure in itself. I registered on job platforms for university graduates – リクナビ (Rikunabi) and マイナビ (MyNavi). One of them also had job agents specifically for “exchange students.” I felt that applied to me and signed up.
A small misunderstanding: They meant Japanese students who had studied abroad, not foreigners like me who had done an exchange year in Japan. The agent didn’t hold it against me and sent me a few job offers anyway.
So, I bought my first suit and went from company information sessions (会社説明会) to interviews (面接) in the hot Tokyo summer. The biggest ordeal was the computer-based aptitude tests. Before I had even finished reading the question, the time was up. Definitely not designed for non-native speakers.
Most HR managers were fortunately lenient and ignored the catastrophic results. At one company I really liked, however, I was so nervous in the final interview that I completely botched it. That rejection really hurt at the time. Today, over ten years later, I think: Maybe it was for the best.
In the job itself, language was the biggest challenge. Especially on the phone or when I had to write reports by hand. I asked my supervisor if I couldn’t just type the reports on the PC and print them out. Her answer was a clear “No.”
It was about more than just the report – it was part of the Japanese work education. At the time, I felt it was unfair. I had an obvious handicap compared to my Japanese colleagues. Today, I see it more pragmatically: What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. Or at least more patient.
Arriving in Daily Life
When did Tokyo start to feel like “home”? It may not sound glamorous, but it was the moment the daily work grind became routine. Waking up early, squeezing into overcrowded trains, working late into the evening – the life of a real Japanese office worker, a 社会人 (shakaijin).
In that moment, I was no longer just a visitor. I had arrived.
The years passed faster than expected. The one-year experiment turned into two years, then five, then ten. I changed jobs, moved apartments, built a life. The decision to go freelance later was the next logical step.
The COVID-19 pandemic accelerated many things. It showed that you don’t always have to be in the office to do good work. Remote work suddenly became the norm, and with it, the freedom to decide for myself when and where I work.
But above all, it was a personal development, a shift in thinking. I wanted to focus on the things that are really important to me: time with family and loved ones, self-determination, and the freedom to shape my life according to my own priorities.
What I’ve Learned
Looking back on it all today, the most important insight is perhaps mundane, but true: The biggest boundaries often only exist in our heads. Many things that seem impossible become possible as soon as you take the first step.
I had no guarantee that it would work out in Japan. I had no perfect plan, no safety net. But I had curiosity and the willingness to try. That was enough.
Today, over ten years later, I live in Chiba, work remotely, and travel regularly. Japan has become my home – with all its quirks, challenges, and the occasional despair over garbage separation rules.
I am infinitely grateful for this journey. But I have a feeling it’s far from over.
If you want to read more about my life in Japan, my travels, or the small and large observations from everyday life between cultures – feel free to stick around. The next article is sure to come.
