7/11, bicycles and sakura trees

often when i tell people i want to move to japan, there's 2 responses:

"so you can speak japanese?" or "it's not that good you know"

i know it's not that good... no country is perfect. it's virtually impossible to run the perfect country with good weather, rich history and culture, good economy etc. you just have to pick your poison.

i picked japan.

imagining living there is half dream half nightmare.

it's exciting to think about living in a small apartment on my own, waking up in a futon and getting ready in a unit bathroom. i get to change closets every season, and i have the opportunity to wear the things i love to wear. i can take beautiful pictures almost everywhere i go, with sakura or not. people at least pretend to like you — polite, considerate and tidy. sure, maybe not all the time, but enough to make me happy. eating onigiris or bentos from 7/11 for a meal may seem pathetic but it tastes ten times better there than in my home country. i feel excited just to eat simple ramen or rice and natto. the dry air helps my sweaty hands and frizzy hair. i seem to fit in so well.

maybe it's an idealised image — i've been told so, but i have no problem feeling at home when i go there.

but what might go wrong?

i might fold under the pressure of their working culture. in the end, i'm still a foreigner, and japan can never be my true home. i have lots to learn about life there, about culture and the way people my age interact there. maybe living in a foreign country alone isn't the safest. it's scary to think, what will i do if i can't get work? what will i do if i end up alone forever?

but one has to clench their jaw, pick their poison, and push forward. i weigh my choices between home and there, and i picked there.

so yeah, maybe it won't be picture perfect like i imagine it to be sometimes — but that's okay.