First Impressions of My New Life in Japan

When I landed in Tokyo on April 1st, it was my fourth trip to Japan—so aside from the nerves that come with a big life change, I wasn’t too stressed about getting myself and my five (!) bags to my new apartment.

Getting my residence card went smoothly, though the customs line took way longer than anything I’d experienced before. By the time I finally got through, my flight’s luggage claim had already shut down. I had to track down an airline worker just to figure out where my bags had been left.

Japan is known for having one of the best public transportation systems in the world—but between the rain and the ridiculous amount of luggage I had, I wasn’t about to wrestle my way through train stations and crowds. And I definitely didn’t want to be that guy holding up an entire car because I can’t pack light.

Thankfully, the taxi line moved quickly. I was secretly hoping for an XL taxi, but nope—not in the cards. I walked up to what looked like a mid-size SUV, exchanged a brief look with the driver, and we both silently acknowledged the upcoming challenge. Somehow, he made it work: golf clubs in the front seat, one suitcase in the backseat, three more crammed in the trunk, backpack on my lap. Honestly, I was impressed.

The driver was an older gentleman who struck up a conversation right away. He asked where I was from and what brought me to Japan. I told him about my plans here, and he shared stories from his trips to Los Angeles over 40 years ago. It was a surprisingly warm and easy hour-long ride from Haneda.

Then came the hard part: unloading.

It was still pouring, and I had no umbrella. The driver dropped me off half a block from my new apartment, and as I stood there in the rain, surrounded by bags, I was already calculating how many trips it’d take to drag everything inside without getting completely soaked.

Before I could even start complaining to myself, a young Japanese woman suddenly appeared, quietly holding her umbrella over my head. We exchanged a quick smile, and without a word, she grabbed one of my suitcase handles and started helping me. Two trips each up the escalator, and we had everything under the awning of my building.

After a quick introduction, I learned her name was Yumi. We exchanged a quick bow, and just like she entered my life—umbrella still in hand—she vanished into the rainy Tokyo night.

Thirty hours without sleep, 6,500 miles from home, and my first impression of Japan in this new chapter? A total stranger going out of her way to help me in the pouring rain.

It was a small moment, but it stuck with me. And as I’ve already started to learn, it’s far from the last time I’ll experience kindness like that here.

Suitcases lined up and waiting for Uber ride to Newark Airport