Tokyo Weeks 8 & 9: Reflections and Recommendations
Hello, goodbye, and see you later.
3/15/2026 — 3/30/2026
I cannot believe how quickly that went by. I blinked and it was over, but somehow dragging three suitcases from Narita to Nakano-Shinbashi and buying new sheets at IKEA still manages to feel like it happened ten million years ago.
I returned to Tokyo on a whim — a whim that took three years and some change to realize, mind you — but a whim nonetheless. When I sat there staring at the latest in a long line of humiliations and rejections on the career portal, I caught the first thought that drifted into my head and clung desperately to it like a north star. “Go back to Tokyo.”
So for the next five months I prepared, and then I went to Tokyo. And nothing miraculous or life-changing happened, which admittedly is what I was secretly hoping would. I’m someone who is always looking for miracles — which I guess is fitting, given the meaning of my name. But that was a lot of weight to put on a place.
I came here seeking new things — connections or a job, a new home, new friends, a partner. No job or husband yet, but what I did find is that I wouldn’t want to build a life in Tokyo, or even Japan in general. As someone who really wants to create a community, a city where most expats are in the process of coming and going and the locals largely aren’t interested in interfacing with you isn’t really conducive to what I want or need. My personality is also completely opposite Japan’s culture of rigidity and bureaucracy. There are pros to it, for sure, I don’t mean to rag on it. But if I hear “ちょっと...” or “難しい…” one more time I think a part of my spirit will wither away and die. I am Mediterranean-blooded. I need flexibility or I’ll flounder.
On the other hand, maybe living in a place like Tokyo long enough would force some structure into my life. Mold me to fit into the place, fill in the gaps I’m missing. I do really love this city. I just don’t know whether our incongruences would help make me a better person or simply add unnecessary friction to my life. Ultimately, that’s something only I can answer.
And if Tokyo didn’t match my expectations, I’d probably be bereft to find a city that did.
But coming here, I was so sure. I was positive that the city itself would give me solutions. What I learned instead was that all of the external measures of stability I was chasing were things I needed to cultivate within myself first. Which fucking sucks when you have no base and zero idea of what to emulate. Tough shit. Figure it out, because nobody’s coming to save you. Not the money, nor the home, nor the partner, nor the community, none of it. Not unless I create those things myself. Results are magnetic – first you need to embody them to get them. But how do I embody what I don’t know?
I’ve always been on the outside looking in, and to be honest, there’s a power in that. But at the end of the day, nobody really trusts you, and nobody really loves you, and that’s a really rotten thing to be. Sure, there are plenty of people who like me — admire me, enjoy me, watch me. I’m lavished with attention, actually. But that’s not the same thing as being loved. And if you don’t love, you can’t really know anyone — not especially yourself. Another person is a mirror. A community is an amplifier. And I have always been alone — living in my own feedback loop. A mirror reflecting its own distortion, a jerking cassette tape looping the same ten seconds over, and over, and over again.
But I’m coming to believe that maybe it’s because this is the work I’ve been set out to do. I need to create my own container, because none that exist can fit me. They are all inadequate. And I can keep chasing horizons forever, but unless I lock down somewhere and put in the boring, menial, daily work, what I envision will simply never see the light. But if not Tokyo, then where?
Again, a question only I can answer. I do really, really love this city. And what will always be mine is that it’s the first city I’ve properly lived in by myself. Isn’t that crazy? This is the longest I’ve gone without being around other people, and after getting over the initial ramp it feels really, really liberating.
I will miss Tokyo, and I am sad to be leaving and uprooting myself again. I was a little worried about repeating the turbulence I felt earlier, but I think I’m more grounded now, and, for full context, I’m writing the first draft of this on the 31st of March from my hotel room in Fukuoka while I battle a cold, and I’m genuinely feeling mostly fine (save for a few stray tears I let out in my apartment before rushing out to catch the train).
I don’t want to be alone. I don’t know how to not be alone without losing myself to other people. When I’m alone, I feel how I feel and can process and address it. When I’m with others, it seems as if half my brainpower unwittingly devotes itself to group emotional regulation. She’s anxious and needs a break, he’s annoyed and will show it, they’re tired and won’t communicate it so I need to keep an eye on them. I’m constantly, constantly shifting and adjusting for other people, and I don’t realize how much it frustrates and exhausts me until I’m alone. I honestly feel stupider around other people for this reason. I forget that being around people doesn’t necessarily need to be stressful, and that I can, in fact, let myself be a person around other people. A peer. Not a manager or regulator.
I think that’s also why I carry those cheap evil eye earrings with me everywhere I go. It isn’t really because of superstition. It’s because they were given to me by someone who loves me. So when I reach into my pocket and press my thumb into the backing so hard that it nearly breaks skin, it pulls me back down to earth and reminds me that I don’t actually exist outside of it. That there are people who do see me, and believe in me, and maybe even love me.
One of the new friends I made in Japan is a barista at one of the cafes I became a regular at. We don’t share a common language, but managed to befriend each other anyway — because during my first visit, Cesaria Evora began to sing.
She’s a fantastic singer, the biggest inspiration for one of my favorite artists of all time, Stromae. And I never, ever hear her music out in the world.
Once I got over the initial delight of recognizing Angola on the playlist and whipping my phone out to record the moment, I noticed her watching me with bright, amused eyes as I hummed along, swaying along to the music. I smiled back.
“I really love this song,” I said in broken Japanese.
She laughed. “I love it too!”
I stopped by frequently over the next two months, and returned one more time a couple of days before I was set to leave. I was disappointed to see that she wasn’t there when I ordered, but another barista who I remembered was – I just wasn’t sure if she remembered me.
Just as I was getting ready to leave, my friend appeared, running to the back of the cafe to find me. We spoke a while through translation apps, excitedly sharing stories and future travel plans. When it was time to go, we hugged and parted ways. She retreated slowly behind the staff door, waving at me until it shut behind her.
The moment she disappeared, Angola began to play again, and I damn near burst into tears on that couch.
As I headed towards the door, the barista who took my order stopped me — I thought it was you, Ayah-san. After we chatted for a bit, I turned around to find that the owner of the cafe had seemingly materialized out of nowhere to say hello and share that she’d heard about me. Turns out she’d been sitting kitty-corner to me and my friend the whole time while we said our goodbyes.
I’m leaving my extra luggage with the kid I thought was punking me on the first day of class. He laughed at me when I offered to pay him for the trouble. And I was honestly shocked by how many people reached out with offers to help when I just asked for it. I’d only been here two months, but…whoa, hey, I made friends?
Sometimes the loneliness threatens to eat me alive, but when the fog clears and I finally see myself clearly, moving on my own, breathing on my own, thinking on my own, untethered and free — I feel like the most beautiful person in the world. I feel like someone capable of understanding anyone. And oh my god, oh my god — I am so grateful to be alive, and here with all of you. What an extraordinarily rare and wonderful thing that is. Thank you!!!
My name is Ayah. I am a writer, like my grandfather. And I am teaching myself how to carry myself. It is the most difficult and most liberating work in the world.
I spray my letters with my perfume before sending them off. I slip the earrings from my friend back into my pocket. I blow the dried cherry blossom petals I’ve gathered under a wish for happiness off my balcony. And I’m so excited to see what the rest of this trip holds for me.
There is a quote by Senegalese filmmaker Ousmane Sembene that I always return to. When asked whether his films are understood by Europeans, he doesn’t entertain the question. It is completely irrelevant to his lived ethos, because that ethos does not demand that he reshape himself for external eyes — there is something far more powerful about being your own center of gravity.
“Why be a sunflower and turn towards the sun? I myself am the sun!”
Highlights
I found some of my favorite spots right as I was about to leave. Go figure.
cafe ataraxia – Hidden beneath the earth in the famous Jimbocho neighborhood, this basement-level meikyoku kissa cafe is run by a husband and wife duo obsessed with classical music, playing it continuously through authentic century-old gramophones. It’s so distinctly Japanese in almost every capacity that my heart aches remembering it. I paid $30 to try a cup of Yemeni Mocha Matari for the first time here and don’t regret a cent spent.
norm tea house - Go here. Seriously, go here. Even if you’re not a tea person, go here anyway — you probably will be by the time you leave. I stumbled upon this spot completely by accident and brought along a girl I’d been hanging out with; we both adored it. Tiny standing-room-only tea bar, unbelievably affordable, and run by the loveliest women who graciously answered all of my relentless questions about tea. I really recommend going with one other person, each ordering the omakase tea flights, and sharing them.
bois de gui – By now you know I love luxury and exuberance. This incredibly bougie flower shop tucked inside an even bougier shopping complex has both in spades – it’s beautifully designed and curated. I picked up a tote and an incredible incense that I’ve been hauling around in my carry-on because I’m too afraid to part with it.
Pizza PST – I had a lot of Neapolitan-style pizza in Tokyo. This was my favorite.
KEMURISOU – An incredibly cute little coffee shop situated smack in a residential area that I stumbled upon on my walk to a regular lunch spot. Sweet owner that loves to play oldies music.
bar record – An incredible listening bar in the heart of Ginza with only six seats. The owner manually swaps records between cocktails. Great music, even better drinks, and surprisingly affordable considering the location.
Jikasei MENSHO - I had to be convinced to eat here. I had serious doubts that a ramen spot (a paitan spot, at that – I’m a notorious paitan hater) in a Shibuya PARCO basement would be any good. Glad to say I was proven wrong.
BOX BURGER – A delicious burger spot in Hakone with a hilarious chef-owner.
Tokyo SKYTREE – It actually is worth the views…I’m just as surprised as you.
VIRTÙ - It is the most ridiculously expensive cocktail bar I went to in Tokyo. Like, it’s pricey even by American standards. The drinks were excellent, mind you, just insanely oppressive to the wallet. The city’s mixology scene is so strong that you don’t need to come here, but the level of hospitality and atmosphere in the space is second to none. It truly is a cut above an already high standard of excellence in these two regards. The head bartender was even kind enough to give me a laundry list of bar recommendations that I followed for the rest of my Asia travels.
Hakone – Hakone is way too spread out to do in a daytrip like we did. Spend the night, at least. It’s very worth it, it just involves a lot of time and travel between sites.
Hakone Open Air Museum – A large contributing factor to why I think a daytrip isn’t worth it. It’s a lovely museum and deserves enough time devoted to exploring it.
Enoshima – I liked Kamakura, but I liked Enoshima even more. Spend your time here, go slow as you move through the island, show up early to beat the crowds, and enjoy feeling like you’re in a Zelda game.