I’d imagine people usually feel anxious about making a drastic life change like picking up and moving to a new country. But I remember sitting in the airport in Los Angeles, Tony Tony Chopper water bottle in hand, feeling excited and eager to start my new life. All I could think about was finding a favorite matcha cafe to spend my mornings in after touching down in Tokyo.
Growing up in Southern California, I had always been interested in Japanese culture and cuisine. During the pandemic, I became obsessed with anime: the characters who never gave up, the friendships, the quiet slice-of-life moments. I was infatuated with the sound of the language and the minimalist aesthetic. The shows made me want to experience it all for myself.
In January 2025, a little less than a year after I graduated from UC Irvine, I boarded that flight to move to Japan.
Escaping financial pressure
I’ve never been someone who followed the “safe path.” Even in college, where I studied business administration and management, I avoided internships that would lead to a 9-to-5 corporate career. Deep down, I knew I wanted more freedom than that.
But freedom is expensive in America. I was working four jobs after graduation — as a full time visual merchandiser at Lululemon, owner of a small sticker business, real estate sign manager, and organizational manager at a lacrosse club. I felt weighed down by the financial pressure of just existing. It felt impossible to be able to afford rent, health care, and other basics without getting a corporate job.
So when I stumbled across an ad in June 2024 about teaching English in Japan with an Eikaiwa, or conversation school, I applied on a whim. I went through an all-day interview process and got the job. I didn’t hesitate.
Marc Aziz Ressang for CNBC Make It
Although they were supportive, everyone around me thought I was crazy for leaving behind a seemingly stable life in California. Why wouldn’t I want to be close to family and a long-term boyfriend? But Japan had been calling me for years, and this felt like my chance.
Six months of paperwork, packing, and goodbyes later, I was on my way.
Living in Japan
When I arrived in Japan, something about it immediately felt right. Best of all, I could afford to live alone. For 74,460 yen (or $483 a month), I ended up in an apartment in Nakahara-ku, which is part of Kawasaki City and about 15 minutes by train to Tokyo.
Marc Aziz Ressang for CNBC Make It
My apartment has plenty of natural light and even a tatami room (a traditional room with straw mat flooring for tea ceremonies), just like the ones I’d seen in anime. In the U.S., I’d never be able to afford something like this on my own. In Japan, it felt attainable, even comfortable, on my 277,500 yen (about $1,800) a month teaching salary.
The cost of living surprised me in other ways, too. A filling meal in Tokyo — like a traditional teishoku (meal set) with a beef rice bowl, miso soup, eggs, and a drink — could cost just 1,000 yen (about $6), compared to the $20 I was used to paying in California. My company covered my commuting costs and groceries didn’t break the bank. For the first time, my basic needs were covered without me constantly worrying.
Marc Aziz Ressang for CNBC Make It
Teaching was never my passion, though. It was an “in” that allowed me to move to Japan, and for that I’ll always be grateful. But after about six months, I realized I wanted something different.
Now I make social media content for a language app for $175 a week and work as a freelance digital marketing assistant for $25 an hour. The number of hours for the latter has varied so far from about 50 in August to three in September when we were in between clients to 22 in October, since I traveled to Hawaii and Okinawa that month.
Being here has freed up not just money, but mental space. I can focus on pursuing hobbies like creating content about moving abroad, going to the gym, studying Japanese, and connecting with locals, instead of always stressing about how to make ends meet.
Dealing with downsides
Moving hasn’t been without challenges. Sometimes the language barrier feels frustrating and overwhelming, like when I need to go to the bank or post office, call my phone carrier, or navigate a doctor’s appointment. I often rely on AI to translate or ask a friend to help. This, in part, is what motivates me to learn the language better.
Marc Aziz Ressang for CNBC Make It
And I miss my friends and family back in California. There are days when I feel the sting of loneliness despite being surrounded by millions of people. I’m an extrovert, but even for me it can get tiring to go out of my way to overcome the language barrier and make friends.
These struggles have made me more independent and patient, though. And when I slide the door shut on my tatami room and step out of my apartment each morning, I feel a mix of belonging and gratitude. This is my chance to live the life I dreamed about while watching anime as a teenager.
I don’t know how long I’ll stay in Japan. But for now, I’m cherishing every moment. I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.
Ashley Peters is a digital creator and marketing assistant based in Japan, sharing stories about life abroad, language learning, and creative growth. Follow her journey on YouTube, TikTok, and Instagram.
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