KaigoJourney

Eight years ago I landed at a Japanese airport for the first time — excited, curious, and completely unprepared for what was coming. I still feel nostalgic when I think about that day. This post is everything I know now that I wish I had known then.

The first day — a whole new world

I still remember landing in Japan for the first time. The airport was enormous and spotlessly clean — unlike anything I had seen before. Coming from Nepal, where I had never left the country, Japan felt like stepping into a completely different dimension.

Outside the airport, the scenery was beautiful. But it was late July, and the heat hit me immediately. What surprised me was that buses and cars all had air conditioning — something I had not expected. Small detail, but it stayed with me.

After meeting my language school teacher, I took a bus to Ikebukuro and then a taxi to my hostel. The hostel was not particularly clean — not what I had imagined — but it was manageable. I was too excited to care much. Japan looked like a whole new world, and I wanted to explore every corner of it.

I always feel nostalgic when I think about that first day. The person I was then and the person I am now are very different — shaped by eight years of lessons this country taught me, sometimes gently and sometimes the hard way.

The first struggles nobody warned me about

The language barrier was the first and biggest wall. In the early weeks, I adapted by speaking less, observing more, and only saying something when I was sure enough to say it. When words failed me, I used hand gestures. You learn quickly that communication is more than vocabulary — it is patience, observation, and the willingness to look a little lost sometimes.

I had anticipated cultural differences. But the reality was even more pronounced than I expected. Japanese culture operates on layers of unspoken rules, indirect communication, and social expectations that take a long time to truly understand. The surface looks calm and orderly. Underneath, it is complex.

The food was another genuine surprise. I grew up with Nepali food — rich with spices, bold and layered in flavour. Japanese food is the opposite. Everything tasted sweet to me at first. It took time before my palate adjusted and I could appreciate what Japanese cuisine actually is — subtle, precise, and deeply intentional.

My language school helped with practical things like opening a bank account and getting a SIM card. The train system I figured out on my own, driven by curiosity. Those early weeks of exploring independently — getting lost, finding my way back, understanding how the city worked — were some of the most formative experiences of my time here.

The hardest years — honesty about what nobody posts online

Eight years sounds like a long continuous success story. It was not. There were moments — real, serious moments — when I considered leaving.

During the COVID-19 pandemic, my income disappeared. I thought seriously about going back to Nepal. The only reason I stayed was because it was impossible to leave — the borders were closed, the flights were gone. Circumstances kept me here when my motivation had wavered.

Even now, sometimes, I feel tired. I want to go home to Nepal and simply rest. But when I think about what I would actually do there — I cannot find a clear answer. Japan has become my life in a way that makes the alternative unclear. That is both a beautiful thing and a complicated one.

The hardest period was not the language barrier or the practical challenges. It was when I fully understood Japanese — when I could hear and comprehend everything around me — and began to truly understand Japanese people and their work culture.

My personality is direct. If something is wrong, I say it is wrong. That is simply who I am. In Japanese work culture, that directness is often perceived as rude. Japanese people tend to hide their feelings, speak indirectly, and address problems behind closed doors rather than openly. Learning to navigate that gap — between who I am and how Japan expects people to behave — was the most emotionally difficult thing about this country.

I am still in Japan because I have become emotionally attached to it. Whenever I seriously think about leaving, I feel a loneliness that surprises me. A lot of emotions come out. After eight years, Japan is not just a place I live — it is part of who I am.

Practical lessons that took me years to learn

Save money — consistently and seriously. You never know when something will go wrong. A visa issue, a sudden medical expense, a gap between jobs — Japan can feel very stable until something unexpected happens. Having savings is not just comfort — it is protection.

Housing requires a Japanese guarantor. This is something many foreigners do not know before they arrive. Renting an apartment in Japan typically requires someone to guarantee your rent — and that person needs to be Japanese. This requirement has become more common over time, not less. Research your housing options and your employer’s support policies before you come.

Health insurance and pension are not optional. You must pay into Japan’s national health insurance and pension system. If you stop paying — or if you are found to have avoided them — your visa can be cancelled. I have seen this happen. Do not take this lightly.

Japanese work culture is more demanding than it appears. From the outside, Japanese workplaces look calm and professional. On the inside, they can be intensely pressured environments with high expectations, long hours, and complex social hierarchies. Understand this before you start working here — not to be discouraged, but to be prepared.

Making Japanese friends is possible — deep friendships are harder. Japanese people are friendly and welcoming on the surface. But forming genuine, lasting friendships takes significantly more time and effort than in many other cultures. Do not mistake politeness for closeness. And do not be discouraged when friendships feel surface level for longer than you expect.

What I would tell someone arriving in Japan tomorrow

Learn Japanese properly — at least to N3 level. N4 might get you through the visa requirements, but N3 is what allows you to actually survive and thrive here. Language is not just communication in Japan — it is respect, connection, and opportunity.

Follow the rules — all of them. Japan has rules for everything, and they are enforced. This is not a country where bending the rules is tolerated easily.

Be mindful of noise. I understand that people want to have fun, relax, enjoy themselves. But keep noise levels down — especially at night. Japanese neighbours will call the police without hesitation if they feel disturbed. This is not an exaggeration. It happens regularly to foreigners who did not know.

Research your employer before signing anything. Especially if your visa is tied to your job — which it is for SSW caregiver workers — you need to know that your employer is legitimate, stable, and will handle your visa properly. A bad employer can put your entire life in Japan at risk. Do your research before you commit.

Focus on your work and do not worry about what others say. There will be people who judge you, misunderstand you, or simply do not want you here. You cannot control that. What you can control is the quality of your work, the way you carry yourself, and the rules you choose to follow. Do those things well and you can build a good life in Japan — regardless of what anyone else thinks.

Eight years have taught me that Japan rewards those who are patient, who learn the language, and who respect the place they have chosen to call home. It is not always easy. But it is worth it. 🇯🇵

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“For more context about foreign workers in Japan read Why Foreign Workers Have Become Essential to Japan’s Elderly Care System.”