JAPANIVERSARY

Marking years abroad and life in Japan

On 30 September, I will be celebrating my 29th Japaniversary – that's right, 29 years since I started a new life in the Land of the Rising Sun, with almost zero language skills and no job, but with a Japanese wife and a suitcase full of optimism.

Now, I hadn't just stumbled into Japan like a confused tourist looking for Mt. Fuji. I had visited twice before. The first time was to spend a few weeks with my then-girlfriend, criss-crossing the country, getting engaged, and – most terrifyingly – asking her father for permission to marry her.

A bold move, considering:

• I had never met her parents.

• I didn’t speak Japanese.

• They didn’t speak English.

• I was about to ask for their daughter’s hand like a medieval knight (minus the armour and horse)

• And I was about to take her away to a far-away country halfway around the globe

It wasn't easy to imagine how that would pan out...

Turns out, her father was a very understanding gentleman who recognised a loving couple when he saw one. After bonding over a lavish dinner in a tatami room and exchanging meaningful glances across the table, I unleashed my one memorised Japanese phrase like a linguistic firework:

Sayuri-san to kekkon sasete kudasai. Please let me marry your daughter.

He nodded with a friendly smile. I exhaled. Somewhere, a koto played softly in the background. Or perhaps it was just in my imagination.

Little did we know that her 'permanent move' to Switzerland would turn out to be rather short-lived.

On our next visit to Japan two years later – now as a married couple – I began to entertain a wild idea: Why not live here permanently?

Sure, I had no job. Sure, I couldn’t read road signs, menus, or shampoo bottles. But hey – Japan had things Switzerland could only dream of:

Shopping seven days a week, and convenience stores open 24/7 – unthinkable in a country where Sundays are kept sacred, and opening hours are regulated by strict laws.

Department stores that treat you like royalty, even without aristocratic ancestry.

Restaurants with plastic food models, which meant ordering a meal was as easy as 'I'll have the shiny on in the middle, please.'

Food so beautiful you feel guilty eating it... but not guilty enough to stop.

And customer service so flawless you half expect the cashier to know what you want before you've even entered the shop.

When we announced to family and friends after only two visits to the country that we intended to make it our home, most thought we had gone mad. After all, we lived in an Alpine paradise (or so would people have us believe). I had a good job in bank (as Swiss people do...). My wife also had had a job – also in a bank.

In contrast, what exactly awaited us in Japan? Most people just saw one thing: financial insecurity.

But we did it anyway. We packed everything that fit into a few (all right, a mountain of) cardboard boxes and let go of everything else.

And the rest, as they say, is history...

I’ve gone from clueless foreigner to a semi-functional local. I’ve survived earthquakes, karaoke nights, and the eternal mystery of Japanese paperwork. I’ve learned the language (mostly), mastered the art of bowing at 15-degree angles, and developed a sixth sense for spotting konbini within a 500-metre radius.

So here’s to 29 years of adventure, confusion, joy, and sushi.