Konnichiwa fellow adventurers! Today, I want to dive into a topic that hits close to home for many of us who have embarked on the thrilling adventure of living in a foreign land. Whether it’s the bustling streets of Tokyo, the serene landscapes of Kyoto, or anywhere in between, being an expat is an experience that opens up a treasure trove of new possibilities. But, let’s not beat around the cherry blossom-covered bush; there’s a tiny dragon lurking in this story, and its name is isolation.
The Small Things
Now, I’m not talking about the grandiose challenges – the obvious cultural clashes, the language barriers, or the fact that you stick out like a kaiju in a sea of salarymen. No, my friends, it’s the tiny, seemingly insignificant things that chip away at your sense of belonging. It’s not understanding the intricate details when you visit the doctor, the struggle to chitchat with fellow parents at school, or getting scammed by a website that is pretty obviously a scam if you could only understand the small nuances of Japanese! The list of annoyances that get in the way of ‘normal life’ is endless. Yet, amidst these daily conundrums, there’s one challenge that stands head and shoulders above the rest – the quest for genuine connections, those magical bonds we call friendships.
no matter if you’ve been here 10 hours or 10 years, kids will stare at you, people will assume you don’t speak Japanese, and people will treat you differently simply by how you look
Friend Magnets
For some folks, making friends is easy. They are friend magnets, drawing in people with no effort at all. For others, like me, it’s a skill that is simply a mystery. No matter what you do, it feels like you are just too boring for people to remember or even care about. But even if you’re a master friend maker, you’re in the same boat as the rest of us when trying to make friends in a foreign language. Even if a winning personality can overcome the initial hurdles of interesting someone, is it enough to complete the marathon of building a friendship in another language, culture, and place? Because being an outsider, no matter how charming or witty you are, feels like being a character in a parallel dimension. You’re there, present in the scenes, but there’s an invisible force field keeping you just a tad apart from the action.
And on top of that, Japan is a unique place when it comes to outsiders. Like I said before, there are two categories of people in Japan: Japanese and Gaijin. It comes from the natural isolation Japan has had as an island county. So Japan has had a lot of time by itself (Part of its history even forbid foreign people and ideas (Sakoku)) It’s resulted in about 90%+ of the population being ethnically Japanese. That’s a lot of homogeneity. So back in the day, Japan was pretty much an exclusive club with a ‘no foreigners allowed’ sign (although I’ve heard some places still have this sign today). But, oh boy, how times have changed! Thanks to the influx of international media and international business, Japan has opened its doors to the world. The country has become a mixture of Japanese tradition with a hodgepodge of foreign ideas. And to many, foreign influence has become a part of life. And the modern day view of gaijin is pretty much the same as how people view foreigners in America, Europe, or any other place – foreigners are: a) interesting because they are different or b) here to take our jobs.
Odd Man Out
That said, people still react ‘strangely’ to foreigners. In my experiences, you will NEVER be treated as just “a normal person.” Because no matter if you’ve been here 10 hours or 10 years, kids will stare at you, people will assume you don’t speak Japanese, and people will treat you differently simply by how you look. Either you’ll be special, or avoided. Either way, you’ll never be normal.
Some people will be drawn to you. You’ll be the cool kid in class. You’ll be the star. They’ll want to speak to you in English. They’ll want to get your opinion on Japanese things. Some will like your fashion. But at the end of the day, this isn’t an invitation of inclusion (something I misunderstood early on). You go to your home and they go to theirs. You’re not one of them.
Even the ones that don’t treat you specially and just use the Japanese politeness get it wrong. I don’t know how many times someone has tried to be nice and said “Wow! You use chopsticks so we’ll!” Well, of course I do! I’ve been using them for 30 years! It’s not a compliment that they’d ever use for a Japanese person (other than a child). It’s like praising someone for mastering the art of using a pencil – strange, and oddly belittling.
And then there are those who want to stay away from you. A few, like in every country, stay away because of racism (but that is usually targeted at Koreans or Chinese). The vast majority of people like this just don’t want to deal with a gaijin. The fear of dealing with someone foreign and the uncertainty that comes with embracing something different can be just too daunting for some.
For example, in all my years of taking my son to school, I’ve only had 3 other parents even try to have a conversation with me. Now, I’m nervous myself of starting small talk in Japanese, so I rarely do, but there is ample opportunity for others to do so. I always great others when I come across people in the morning (something super common here) and might make a comment or two. So I was thoroughly surprised when another father introduced himself while waiting at the crosswalk in front of the school. His son was new to the school and not even in the same year as my son. But we chatted briefly while we waited (all in Japanese) like he would with any other parent. It was banal, about nothing, and completely trivial, but oh was it so completely wonderful. It was the one and only time I’ve had this kind of everyday experience with a stranger here.
Man on a Mission
When I first touched down in Japan, however, I was on a mission – to make Japanese friends. I went all out, attending language practice meet-ups at the city office in Kobe, mingling at school parties during my full time English teaching days, and even bonding with kindred spirits through the world of filmmaking. And let me tell you, some of those friendships were gems, lasting for years. However, there was a common thread connecting them – language practice. Whether it was English or Japanese, these friendships often dwindled as our language exchange needs evolved. And those friendships tend to fall by the wayside (as I’ve gone into HERE). The friendships that last in life usually are the ones made through common experiences, in everyday situations, like school or work or in hobbies. In fact, my one longest lasting friendship with a Japanese person (a friend I still meet today) was indeed one of these everyday situations. We met when she tried out for a film I was making.
But here’s the twist – a significant chunk of the friends we gaijin make in Japan are fellow gaijin. It makes sense; our daily grind, often teaching English, naturally brings us together. I’ve had the pleasure of forging wonderful friendships with fellow gaijin over the years, but here’s the kicker – these friendships often come with an expiration date. Teaching English in Japan is like attending an international friendship carnival – exhilarating, but temporary.
Isolation-ville
As the years roll by, your buddies pack their bags and head back to their corners of the globe. Sure, you can keep in touch through the wonders of technology, but the reality is, distance takes its toll. The longer you stay, the more goodbyes you’ll bid, and the fewer fresh faces you’ll encounter. It’s a bit like the existential crisis of aging. I said goodbye to the cheery crew that I trained with and started working with over a 15 years ago. My best buds stopped working at the school a decade ago. The very last of my friends that I hung out with left right before the coronavirus hit. Now, I’m not familiar with the new teachers (who are half my age. How’d that happen?) and don’t have any of the old crew to chat with at the water-cooler. I’m in a work friend no-man’s-land.
But this doesn’t mean living abroad is a solitary journey filled with misery. It just means there are a few more hurdles to leap. You might have to walk a few extra steps to find your tribe. In my time here, I’ve forged some incredible friendships that have stood the test of time. Many of those friends I still hang out with today. And guess what? I even managed to meet my wonderful wife and build a fantastic little family.
So, fellow adventurers, take on the challenge, navigate the hurdles, and you’ll find that life wherever you call home is actually pretty full. Because life is only as full (or as empty) as you make it. And while Japan may throw you a curveball or two, amidst the goodbyes, you might just stumble upon the greatest connections of your life. Cheers to the journey, the friendships, and the beautifully unexpected chapters of life in all our mesmerizing countries!
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*I don’t use AI for my artwork. These filler images are just for fun and aren’t meant to represent my art so they have been labeled “AI GENERATED.” I want my blog to be enjoyable for you but I don’t have 2-6 hours to draw each image (this blog is done in my free time). If you’re against AI in art, please direct your criticism elsewhere (maybe someone trying to pass off AI generated images as their art). I am not doing that.
I find self-interest common across Asia. I’ve lived in Japan 17 years and have yet to establish a genuine friendship. I’ve lived in Thailand for 4 years and discovered the Thais to be extremely friendly, welcoming and masters of a deceiving smile. I’m from the US but it’s scary living in the US. I’d rather have peace of mind and accept the self interest friends and deceiving smiles over fear for my safety lifestyle. Japan offers me tranquility and Thailand offers an endless holiday. No matter where we go we will encounter challenges and one must find the most comfortable challenge I guess.
I hear you! No place is perfect, but finding the place you can feel most comfortable is best. I feel the same way about Japan. I’m very comfortable here.
The feeling of being isolated you have described so well is one you share with so many others who come from different life experiences.
There are people everywhere who can relate to this.