Striving to get back to Europe, I find myself on the northeastern coast of the mainland of Japan. Here I am, working and living in a country I previously knew very little about -- one I thought I'd never visit.
How did I get here?
While visiting my favorite places and people in Germany in May of 2023, I chatted with a math teacher who had just arrived in the area and was preparing to begin work at the local elementary school on the Ramstein Air Base.
Unbeknownst to me, a woman at a table across the Biergarten of the Irish bar where we met overheard my story about wanting to teach on base. It was uncanny how she picked up the signal; I didnʻt think I was speaking loud enough for anyone to hear. No matter: she came over, introduced herself, told me her school (Kaiserslautern High) needed a teacher with my qualifications, all the while texting her boss, the school's principal. Three days later -- the morning I was scheduled to fly home -- I toured the high school. This first-of-a-kind event renewed my high hopes of securing a teaching job for the Department of Defense.
My application with the DoD had been on file for more years than I could remember, and now that I had spoken to some interested parties and a real on-base principal and staff member, the possibility of finally attaining a position seemed better than ever.
Unfortunately, hiring doesn't work the way I thought. Principals have no choice who is sent to them for interviews. Only teachers with the exact qualifications sought are referred for a position.
When I got back to the States, I updated my application, making it impressively complete, adding to the list of countries in which I'd like to work, desperate to get out of the U.S. once again, and back overseas.
I get these yearnings, you see. After living in Germany for over eight years and two more on the island of Oʻahu following that, I've officially become a sort of ex-pat. (If you know me, you know I'm not meant to be living in the continental U.S. for very long.) My gypsy blood won't let me settle down at "home," and despite repeated attempts, circumstances kept preventing me from moving closer to family.
The only other option? Fly the coop. Yet again, I felt the need to be in a new place surrounded by a different culture and language.
Aiming for that German DoD job, I also shot my CV at every overseas teaching position I could find online, corresponding with schools in Australia, western Africa, and central and eastern Europe.
After waiting for several anxious months, I got a job offer from an Irish travel agency, which I accepted. On the day I started with the friendly folk from the Emerald Isle, the final offer to teach on base in Misawa, Japan arrived.
Of course it had to happen that way. Feast or famine. Now I was forced to choose between two amazing jobs in the span of 24 hours. Needless to say, I was crying in my coffee.
Never had I had an innate desire to visit Asia, and Japan is a country I knew nothing about. I thought I could make it back to Germany, and eventually to Ireland. But there it was, finally staring me in the face: my dream job with the DoD, no matter where it took me. Even the Irish folks told me I had to take the Japanese job, promising me I'd always have a place with them should I so choose.
Scrambling for about four weeks to get my life packed up once again and ready myself for a new adventure, I made the trans-Pacific move once more. The working vacation continues -- as always -- but this time, with a different flavor.
So what's Japan like, you ask?
First of all, where I live -- in a city of about 40,000 people nestled between a large lake and the Pacific ocean -- it's peaceful. There's no hustle and bustle like Tokyo and larger Japanese cities, though I haven't spent time in any of those... yet. On base it's quiet, because it's smaller than many. The only noise pollution around here is the sound of fighter jets making practice runs.
Able to secure a large house in the country amidst farms and quiet residences, I am feeling quite at home already. In addition to freshly-plowed fields as far as the eyes can see, there's a compactly-occupied cemetery nearby, its residents resting for eternity across from an old Shinto shrine.
Jagged country roads lead into and away from town from produce plants and onto my neighbors' non-uniform properties. Except for my street, on which houses were constructed specifically for American service members, buildings here are one- and two-story, each one different from the next, most shaped like stacked boxes.
360-degree views from my home display small patches of closely-grown pines, a shaded ravine, plenty of wild birds, and a majestic mountain to the west. Though I can't see it from my front porch, the ocean is only two kilometers away.
At times, the air outside smells like cattle -- there's a small "ranch" about 300 steps down the road toward the ocean, and on the next road over, an old dairy sign and gentle lowing proclaim there remain working bovine on site. Here in Japan, the cattle have windows in their barns, and though they aren't out in large pastures, they are well cared for.
Other times, the wet, familiar scents cast from the vast Pacific waft gingerly into my nostrils. I can hear the ocean roar some evenings when I step out onto my porch, but when I walk down to the coast -- only 15 minutes from shack to shore -- I'm met by smaller waves and tsunami prevention devices: manmade artifices meant to stop the calmer of our planet's two great oceans from wreaking havoc on this island.
Not only is the area here peaceful, so are the people. The Japanese are quiet, unassuming and respectful, welcoming and helpful -- friendly for the most part. When approaching, they excuse themselves ("sumimasen!") and when given the opportunity to pass by in a tight space, they bow as a sign of thanks. Money is passed between vendor and customer using small trays, and bowing and repeated words of thanks are offered. It isn't excessive as you might imagine: it's quite nice and a wonderful change from other countries' customs. (I have begun bowing myself.)
Traffic is tranquil; most drivers are law-abiding citizens who honor each other and the road. Only once in four months have I seen flashing lights, and that was for a paramedic's van leaving the fire station. Streetlights are timely regulated, and there are no left-hand turns on a red light (we drive on the opposite side of the road from the U.S.).
Every day I see a Japanese person running from one place to another. Many commute to work on their own two feet. In general, when it comes to occupations, no time seems to be wasted leaning on a shovel or neglecting a stack of paperwork. This is a country of workers, and no matter how menial the job, it is of value. People stay busy, work hard, and do what they're employed to do. I can't say I've ever heard or seen or a Japanese person complain; nor have I seen -- with the exception of two -- many who aren't physically fit.
There's much to learn about my new home -- and so much more to tell about! I've begun studying the Japanese language, I'm eating new, very delicious foods, I'm exposed to new cultural norms. Perhaps the education is the main reason I feel so at peace, so happy, so fulfilled. I'll be growing, experiencing, and changing yet again. As usual, when overseas, most everything I do in this new country is something I want to share with my friends and family "back home."
Better yet, they will come visit, and we learn together.
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