This post is part 1 of a series of stories recounting all the ups and downs of my ~6 year journey around the world to all seven continents and seven seas.
After graduating from college in 2013, the only job I was offered was in Japan as an English teacher for a language school just outside of Nagoya.
With no other prospects and an adventurous heart, I immediately accepted the position and packed my bags.
As a Japanese/Chinese American with a Japanese middle and last name who looks very obviously Asian and spoke no Japanese, (yes, it’s possible. Life with multiple cultures is confusing) I knew living there would be a challenge.
Also knowing that I’d have to explain myself often, the first Japanese phrase I made sure to learn was, “私はアメリカ人です。日本語は話せません,” aka, “I’m American. I don’t speak Japanese.”
Moving into my tiny Japanese apartment was the most surreal and disorienting thing I’d probably ever experienced.
I didn’t have my Japanese cellphone yet or international data, and either I didn’t know about using Google maps offline or it wasn’t a thing back then.
But in any case, I remember laughing to and at myself as I had to navigate my way to the supermarket with a physical paper map that was in Japanese, still as lost with it as I’d probably be without it and wondering if I’d be able to find my way home.
(I did, and my navigating skills have thankfully gotten much better with more travels!)
This mixed feeling of being lost, constantly uncomfortable, and generally confused would be a good way to describe my life for the last 6+ years of travel.
I’ve learned that it isn’t a bad thing.
In the end, it’s never led me to anything other than good memories, good people, good food, and sometimes, like the grocery store I eventually found, good music and international love for the kings of 90s/early 2000 pop music: *NSYNC.
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