KaigoJourney

I arrived at Narita Airport in July 2018 expecting something close to anime. I ended up with a one-month visa, a caregiving job I never planned for, and the clearest understanding of my own naivety I have ever had. This is the full story — including the parts I have never written until now.

Landing

July 2018. Narita Airport. My Nepali school teacher came to pick us up and we took a bus to Ikebukuro Station, then a taxi to the school hostel.

My first thought was about the cleanliness. Everything — the streets, the buses, the taxis — was spotless. People were well-dressed. Conversations around me were polite. It felt like a dream. My teacher took us for Nepali food and then we slept because we were exhausted.

The next three days were practical: open a bank account, get a passbook and a hanko, register at the city office, buy phones. Within three days the important tasks were done and we were free.

I walked around Ikebukuro alone, exploring. I had always been excited about Japan and the reality matched what I had imagined — at least at first. There was no loneliness, only excitement. I spoke to Japanese people even though my language was poor, translating English into Japanese and trying anyway. I bought things for myself, learned new things, absorbed everything I could.

Japan, in those first days, felt exactly like I had hoped it would.

Language school and the first job

I studied at language school for two years, Monday to Friday from noon to five in the afternoon. By the end I had passed N3. I enjoyed Ikebukuro and Toshima-ku, made the most of my time, kept exploring.

Within seven to ten days of arriving, my senior helped me find a part-time job at a logistics company. Every Saturday and Sunday night, twelve hours each — twenty-four hours of physical labour a week on top of five days of school.

That was when the dream met reality.

My body started feeling the pain of working through the night while hungry and sleep-deprived. I understood very quickly that everything in life has a cost. But I was not disappointed or angry — I had always expected that work would not be easy. If you want anything in life, you pay for it. I accepted that.

What I did not accept as easily was how some management spoke to us. I have written about Japan’s work culture separately, but in that first job I experienced the gap between Japan’s public politeness and what happens behind the doors of a workplace where you have no standing and limited language. That gap was my first real lesson about how Japan actually works.

The visa collapse — the full story

This is the part I have mentioned across several posts but never told completely. I am telling it now because I think it is the most useful thing in this post for anyone planning to come to Japan.

When I started my main job after language school, I focused on what most people focus on: salary, location, and holidays. I did not ask enough questions about the company itself, and I did not read everything carefully enough.

In Japan there is a term called naitei — a job offer letter. Mine did not match my actual work. I was naive and excited to start, and I did not understand the implications at the time.

I received a two-year visa. I worked, performed well, and after a while my company suggested I could work additional hours during my holidays. I asked whether this was permissible under my visa. They assured me it was fine and said they would not inform the city office.

I believed them. I worked the extra hours and earned good money. I did not think much more about it.

After two years, immigration tightened its checks due to the increasing number of foreign workers in Japan. The truth emerged: the company had misrepresented my job offer from the beginning, and they had reported my working hours as exceeding forty hours a week.

I was issued a one-month visa. The company faced penalties. No foreign workers were employed there after that.

I tried to argue with the company. It achieved nothing.

I had one month to find another job with only an N3 certificate. I could not find one in time.

What I did find was a loophole — a Designated Activities visa, which allows holders to remain in Japan without working while they resolve their situation. I applied for it and received a three-month extension. During that time I completed a caregiving course and applied to a new company.

That is how I became a caregiver. Not a plan. A survival move that turned into the last two years of my life.

What this experience taught me — and what I want you to know

I do not blame the company entirely. The mistake was on both sides. I signed things I did not fully understand. I trusted assurances I should have verified. I focused on the immediate opportunity without asking the questions that would have protected me.

So before anything else: read everything before you sign. Every document. Every clause. If you do not understand something, ask. If the company cannot explain it clearly, that is information.

Check that your naitei — your job offer letter — accurately describes the work you will actually be doing. If it does not, your visa is based on a misrepresentation. Even if the company arranged it and you were unaware, the consequences fall on you.

Learn the language properly. In a crisis, language is the difference between finding a loophole and being deported. My N3 was not strong enough to find work quickly when I needed to — but it was enough to navigate the visa system and find a way through. Aim for N2. Start now, before you need it.

And understand something about immigration that most people learn too late: do not fight them. If you attempt to confront immigration authorities, you can be deported within twenty-four hours and lose your chance to stay in Japan. Be smart. Find the legal path. There is almost always one if you look.

What I would tell the person arriving at Narita

If I could go back to July 2018 and speak to myself at the airport, here is what I would say.

Life is like dust — nobody cares. Everywhere you go there is struggle. Nothing is free in this world; you pay a price for everything. Nobody is your permanent ally. Everyone is focused on their own survival, and I do not blame them for that because I am focused on mine too.

Be cautious. Learn the language properly. Read everything before you sign it. If you do not understand something, ask until you do. Do not let excitement replace attention.

And when things go wrong — because they will — do not spend your energy blaming others. If I had chosen to blame the company and done nothing else, I would have been deported. I found my way instead. I seized what was available. That decision is the only reason I am still here.

Everyone is naive at first. I was. You will be. But naivety is not a permanent condition — it is a starting point. Do not let it define your entire time in Japan.

Follow the rules properly and no one can hurt you. Stand up for yourself when you need to. And keep building your Japanese — it is the one tool that will serve you in every situation this country throws at you.

I arrived expecting anime. I found something harder and more real and more mine. That is probably how it goes for everyone. 🇯🇵

→ Want to know what the work culture shock actually looks like? Read Japan Work Culture Shock — What Every Foreign Worker Needs to Know.

→ Curious about why I stayed after all of this? Read Why I Stay in Japan — The Honest Answer After 8 Years.

→ Want to know what nobody tells you before coming? Read What Nobody Tells You Before Coming to Japan as a Caregiver.

For more context about foreigners living and working in Japan read Why Foreign Workers Have Become Essential to Japan’s Elderly Care System.