Try to leave your American way of thinking far behind. That is to say, in Japan, not everything is what is seems. A huge emphasis is placed on appearances. This explains everything from dress (name brands are enormous—I used to count the Louis Vuitton bags on my train rides—but there is also the rebellious crowd of Harajuku, famous for their bizarre costumes) to business transactions (I dare you to find a merchant who will flat out tell you ‘no’—I’ve had conversations last indefinitely until I was the one to give up!) to the necessity of politeness in general. The biggest pitfall of living abroad is to remember just how American your thoughts probably are—it’s not easy to get everything just the way you’d like (you cannot have your ice cream in a waffle cone at Baskin Robbins—only the sundaes come in waffle cones). Sometimes it’s the littlest things that prove to be the most trying of your patience. For me, it was getting stamps at the post office, while others went insane finding apartments. It mostly came down to luck and timing, and more than anything, patience. What you think is trivial and ridiculous (wait until you see some of the paperwork) is to them, of the utmost importance. Perhaps you’re used to taking shortcuts, cutting corners or making things happen as soon as possible (in whatever sense) but that is not the case in Japan.

It taught me patience, therefore, it taught me to be respectful of their culture. Frankly, as an American, they usually expect you to be loud, demanding and scary, so the best thing you can do is help change their expectations of Americans. My students always told me Americans were the most energetic, happy and cheerful teachers, but as Americans, we also caught the most flak for being arrogant, paranoid and ignorant. Take it in, learn, and move on—despite whatever bad things I heard about America, I found other countries could be just as blind about their own faults.

Watching yourself grow accustomed to Tokyo, fitting in (as much as you can), adapting to their way of life, is the most amazing thing. Tokyo is not for everyone. There were hard months, when I wondered what in the hell I was doing, why I was there. There were so many difficulties and annoyances, and Tokyo was a cold place. I had friends, but if the city doesn’t like you, a dark cloud follows you throughout the day. And like most obstacles, I overcame it and became genuinely comfortable as Tokyo became my real home. Tokyo appears cold—and to a degree, it certainly is—the crowds and their nature give it this feel. But as individuals, I cannot imagine a warmer, more considerate people. People who will more than go out of their way to help and make you feel at home. And perhaps it is something to do with the individuals and their moral choices, the large absence of organized religion, or the socialist style of the economy of Japan, but Tokyo was for me, the safest place in the world. My students were surprised how safe I found it (which assuredly must have contributed to their idea that America is full of chaos and danger). I just laughed and said, “Maybe. But it’s a hell of a lot safer than anywhere else in the world!” If I can ever walk down a dark empty street with my earphones half-in, talking on my keitai (cell phone) while digging through my bag without a second thought, anywhere besides Japan, I’ll be sure to make note of it. Before you know it, you fit in and you love the routine you’ve established, you know the trains, the city, what to expect of the people, and even I acquired a rudimentary grasp of a basic conversation (the most essential of which was, when you don’t understand, just stare blankly).

So for anyone who wants to experience a new life—challenging but rewarding and fulfilling—Tokyo, Japan, is the best place for it. Learning to develop thoughts outside the American shell encasing your brain is delightful—for me, it was overcoming the pitfall of frustrations. I’m embarrassed to admit the many times I found myself thinking, “Why don’t they just…” or “Why don’t you speak English?!”, the list goes on. I though I tolerated other cultures and their way of life, but that doesn’t mean that I wasn’t what I hated the most. I was, and to an extent still am, an arrogant American. I hope I never showed it, but my way of thinking betrays me, and the more I learned to recognize what was silliness on my part, the more I grew. It would seem that I wasn’t always what I appeared to be, either. And somewhere over the course of fifteen months, I grew very attached to my new Western and Japanese friends, my routine, my cute little apartment. Things that irritated me in the past were forgotten or just became acceptable (don’t we all have irritations in daily life?), and all those changes and transitions occurred with only my occasional recognition. I would never have expected that my decision to come home last month was the hardest thing I ever had to do. The main reason that I don’t regret the move home is that now I fully appreciate what I gained from Japan—what better way to discover everything I’ve learned about myself, my nationality, and Japan?