We spent eight years planning our move to Japan.
On paper, we had it covered: visas, schools, finances, healthcare, and even a grasp of the local language.
While we mapped out every logistical detail before leaving New Zealand, I now realize our preparation focused entirely on getting here smoothly, rather than the realities of actually living here.
Looking back, there are still things I wish we’d done before boarding our one-way flight to Japan in 2023.
We should’ve explored more of Japan
Before moving, we visited Japan three times between 2015 and 2019. COVID-19 canceled our fourth trip, meaning our next visit was on a one-way ticket.
On our first trip, we exclusively stayed in Tokyo. We returned a few years later with our 2-year-old, venturing only slightly further to Osaka.
By our final holiday, we traveled across western Japan, visiting Kyoto, Hiroshima, Okayama, and Kobe. Watching families play in the parks of Kurashiki was the first time I genuinely envisioned living here.
At the time, we felt we had seen plenty. Now that I have traveled through over a third of Japan’s prefectures, I realize we have barely scratched the surface.
Cities like Fukuoka, Beppu, Nagoya, and Kobe offer entirely different versions of daily life. Fukuoka is lively and international without Tokyo’s high costs. Beppu is small and surprisingly quiet despite its famous geothermal hot springs.
Nagoya is packed with activities for children. Even my home city of Kobe, which I dismissed during a brief one-day visit as a tourist, looks completely different now that I live here.
If I were planning my move today, I would spend less time on the traditional Golden Route. Exploring diverse urban, coastal, and rural towns is where the trade-offs between cost, convenience, and lifestyle truly become clear.
Staying in residential areas would’ve offered a useful reality check
Most of our pre-move trips targeted tourist hubs. I feel we would have understood Japan as a living space much better if we had skipped major landmarks and stayed somewhere ordinary.
Our first Tokyo accommodation was accidentally in a residential area, giving us a brief, fascinating glimpse into regular Japanese life, from meticulous morning garbage sorting to daily commute rhythms.
Subsequent trips, however, focused on typical tourist sights, which meant we couldn’t accurately gauge how convenience works outside of towns engineered for tourism.
Kyoto’s center, for example, exists within a tourist bubble that doesn’t reflect how people actually live.
After my visits, I wrongfully assumed convenience stores, or “konbini,” would always be around the corner. While true in dense urban centers, my current neighborhood konbini is a 15- to 20-minute walk away.
Now living in a quiet, spacious, semi-rural suburb nestled into the hills, I see how much layout affects your quality of life.
My daughter’s school is within walking distance, yet without a car, and with annoyingly minimal delivery options, simple routines like grocery shopping are far more troublesome than I ever envisioned.
Many of these details feel impossible to gauge from a holiday, regardless of its length. However, spending more time in residential areas may have helped us better set our expectations before the move.
I forgot to plan for life after the move
Somewhere amid the logistical chaos of moving a family overseas, I forgot to plan for my own future.
My husband’s job was secure, so I poured my energy into our daughter and focused on settling her into this new life by obsessively researching local schools and activities.
I had vague ambitions to finish my psychology degree and pursue postgraduate study in Japan. Yet once school routines and daily realities hit, those loose plans evaporated. I tabled the degree, became a stay-at-home parent, and watched my world shrink.
Staying home proved incredibly isolating. Driven by a need to reconnect, I looked for flexible remote work.
What started as a freelance writing gig for a Tokyo hotel company organically snowballed into my current career in travel writing and social media marketing.
Three years later, I am still figuring out my place here. If I could go back, I’d remind myself that amid the energy it takes to build a future for your family, you must leave room to build one for yourself, too.
It would’ve been helpful to build a community before we arrived
Establishing a network before you actually land is another step that is easily overlooked.
Between unpacking and setting up your new home, it’s easy to forget your social needs. Yet, once I made my first friend here, I immediately felt more supported in our new community.
Moving countries can be isolating, even when you are thrilled about the change. Having a few familiar names or faces before you land makes those first few months feel far less overwhelming.
My husband used language-exchange apps like HelloTalk to practice his Japanese and connect with people before we arrived.
I assumed friendships would form naturally, but social circles here can be highly segmented by workplace, language ability, or specific expat programs. Without actively stepping into those spaces, it is easy to find yourself sitting on the outside.
Ultimately, if I could do it over, I would spend less time obsessing over logistics and far more time planning for the actual life I wanted to live once we arrived.
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