Things I Miss About Japan: A Reflection One Year Later

Me last summer celebrating my birthday

When people ask me if I miss Japan, I say, absolutely, although it's more like a mixture of "yes" and "no." "Yes" for the friendships, organization, food, and overall quality of life, but "no" for some of the same things, arguably. It's complicated. I spent half of my formative adulthood there, part of which was during a global pandemic. I can close my eyes and picture myself walking to Lawson's, but I can also open them and find myself in real time, sitting in a cafe with a glass of prosecco.

I'm in a perpetual state of reverse and forward culture shock in Italy. From being an American, but a majority of the time: I am adapting to life in Italy--coming from Japan. And with reverse culture shock, I naturally miss things about Japan a whole lot (yes, even a whole year later!). Here are the top things I miss from my old life in Japan

Living in Tokyo

Tokyo was never meant to be a city for tourism; instead, it was designed as a place to live. I remember one of my first visits and how frustrated I felt: the complex train system, the crowds, and the gloomy atmosphere of concrete buildings on a cloudy day. "Ugh, I hate Tokyo. I don't want to be placed there as a JET." While I wasn't initially assigned there, two years later, I found myself in this metropolis once again. This time, I approached it with a fresh perspective, thanks to friends and curiosity.

With the exception of Asakusa, these neighborhoods might not immediately capture the attention of a new tourist. On the surface, they appear quiet, residential, and not necessarily extraordinary. Yet, for me, they offered a glimpse into Japanese life, combined with the various diasporas that also inhabited them.

Tokyo and Osaka often rank high on most livable cities lists, and I can attest to that. I appreciate how it's possible to live by yourself without the need for roommates, even if salaries tend to be on the lower end. It's clean, even when the nearest trash can is blocks away. Everything is organized and reliable. If a cafe says it has Wi-Fi, it indeed has Wi-Fi. I miss the convenience of having convenience stores on every corner and being able to pay my bills with a simple barcode scan at Family Mart. Bureaucracy is universal, and I definitely don't miss the inflexibility. However, at least I knew my paperwork was progressing, even if it involved faxing and hanko stamps all along the way. This can also be said for most cities in Japan, although Tokyo offers a bit more ease in navigating daily life, especially if your Japanese proficiency is low.

Safety

Once, I left my favorite limited edition Snoopy lunchbox on the train, and all I had to do was pick it up at the last stop. A year later, I find myself browsing Amazon for a theft-proof bag to use when I go out in a major city and clutch my purse at the train station. I miss the ability to come home by myself late at night without giving much thought to whether someone should accompany me or if I should speedbike back to my dorm.

This is not to say that the country is a crimeless utopia. Japan is one of the safest countries . There's a great level of powerlessness in being a foreign woman in Japan (being a woman in general in that country). Still, the same can be said in where I'm living now, as in a lot of places in the world. In retrospect, most of my anxiety came from fear of natural disasters. Though, if you live in a suburb or major city and away from the beach, for the most part the infrastructure is reliable. There are generally clear safety guidelines and ways to seek shelter.

Solo Culture

The rising solo culture has many upsides. Going to a restaurant or even a concert by yourself isn't weird at all. I loved grilling my own meat at Yakiniku Like. This place can be an introvert's dream: you can recharge your social batteries for quite a long time. When I catch up with old friends, I realize how they spend more time by themselves, pursuing their hobbies or even traveling—and it's perfectly normal. That used to be me at one point. In a way, you can truly develop your sense of self apart from others, which is especially important in your 20s. However, being by yourself too much can get lonely, which leads to the #1 thing I don't miss.

I Don't Miss: Loneliness

If I could sum up what I didn't like, it's that uncountable noun: loneliness. Lifestyle-wise, Japan can be a very lonely place. The Japanese language itself is characterized by a lot of vagueness and layers of polite speech. Honne and tatemae are essential elements of Japanese culture. Honne represents your real thoughts, whereas tatemae is the face you show to the world. Relationship dynamics, even among friends, can be perceived as more formal in some ways by "Western" standards. For example, with most of my Japanese friends, we'd have to plan weeks to a month in advance to hang out, even if we're in the same neighborhood. While it's true that adults are busy, I found that with my non-Japanese friends, there tends to be a bit more room for spontaneity. Additionally, it's not common to hang out at a friend's house, and greetings with a hug are rare.

I will say that the warmer social culture in Italy is one of the things I appreciate (which could be the subject of another blog post). I'm never alone for long stretches: coffee, aperitivo, and having dinner at someone's house keep me connected. I turn off my Whatsapp notifications from time to time, otherwise it would keep buzzing!

I used to take it personally, but when you factor in the work structure, the formality of the language and culture, and observe the interactions of others, it starts to make sense. Is it for me? It's hard to say. As the subtitle states, I don't miss the loneliness that it creates, but I did get used to it. Living in a high-context culture taught me to look beyond the surface. After all, I cultivated close friendships during my time there with people whom I miss dearly. Reflecting on these relationships, it's a combination of meeting each other in the middle and sharing life experiences, ranging from studying abroad to growing up in a single-parent household. Different love languages and what defines "closeness" in relationships also became evident. Does the absence of a hug negate the value of the gifts you receive or the actual quality of time spent together? Perhaps the one aspect of life I disliked in Japan instilled in me greater patience and cultural competency, which has been one of the greatest rewards.