two years in tokyo

what no one told me about moving abroad

Two days ago, I walked back into my Tokyo apartment after a whirlwind three weeks in Australia. The trip was not planned, I had left in what felt like a heartbeat. My last minute flight back home came after a string of heightened moments: my long awaited and highly uncertain visa renewal, a relationship I had to walk away from, the final retreat of the year.

In my hazed state before I left Tokyo, I washed my thermal long sleeve shirts and tights, knowing it would be significantly colder on my return. As I walked into the living room, I found them hanging over the tatami mats, forgotten for the past three weeks and for some reason this unlocked a deep wave of gratitude within me. It’s been close to two years since I officially moved to Tokyo, but this was the first moment I felt myself soften in the embrace of my home.

It might have been the first time I felt truly safe in this new life I have been building for myself. The first time I let myself believe it. You did this, and it’s real. It’s okay to feel completely and utterly overjoyed about it.

It was already late, but Tokyo is Tokyo and I had no food, so I went for a walk to my local grocery store, knowing very well I’d want to eat miso soup with fried tofu and daikon as soon as I woke up the next day.

Walking the ten minutes to the supermarket, I noticed the leaves had started to turn. The trees were patterned like camouflage in green, brown, yellow and a hint of red. Despite being in transit all day I felt elated, feather light. I giggled out loud.

rice porridge and miso soup, a standard breakfast I often eat in japan

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Living in Japan has me head over heels with thresholds and transition states. I don’t know if it’s because there is a quiet and eternal transience to creating a life in a country you are not from, and probably can’t stay forever, or because Spring and Autumn are dangerously fleeting here. Two tiny exhales nestled between months of far too hot, or far too cold.

I find myself as if under the influence of a sweet, fermented fruit wine when the weather is in-between seasons. Every day is romantic. I want to spend all the moments I can outside. The natural environment changes rapidly and is celebrated by everyone. There are flower and leaf viewing festivals of every description. Even insects are celebrated. The fireflies in early summer. The bell crickets in autumn.

Thresholds are built into the culture here. Take your shoes off at the entrance. Wash your hands before you enter the temple. Bow at the tori gate. A tree or a waterfall will be marked with a wreath to indicate they are sacred. A crossing point between human and spirit, heaven and earth.

Today’s essay is a small peek into my experience living in Japan, so far. How I feel as if I’m finally stepping past the first threshold, two years in. I’ll also cover why I recommend living abroad to anyone who feels the call, and a few surprising things I learned along the way. The how and why I moved to Japan is a story (or an essay) for another day.

If you’re curious, you can check out the business I started in Japan, too. Find more tokyo stories here, here and here.

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