If You Ask Me Where I’d Choose to Live in Japan, My Answer Would Probably Surprise YouI
I think there’s a certain kind of peace people underestimate when choosing where they want to live.
A lot of people romanticize central Tokyo, and understandably so. It’s exciting, cinematic, alive at every hour. But after a while, I realized I don’t actually want to live inside constant stimulation every single day.
I like movement.
I like convenience.
I like beautiful cafés, bookstores, trains, design stores, and city energy.
But I also like silence.
I like slower mornings.
I like seeing mountains in the distance.
I like neighborhoods where life still feels human.
That’s what Kanagawa feels like to me.
There’s something about places like Kamakura or Atsugi that feel balanced in a way I can’t fully explain unless you’ve lived there yourself.
You can still take the train to Tokyo.
You can still experience the city whenever you want.
But when the day ends, you come home to somewhere softer.
Somewhere calmer.
The kind of place where your nervous system can finally unclench a little.
And maybe that’s what I’ve realized about myself too.
I don’t think I’m someone who thrives in extremes.
Not extreme silence.
Not extreme chaos.
I want a life somewhere in the middle.
A life where I can still feel inspired without constantly feeling overwhelmed.
A place where I can work creatively, romanticize my routines a little, visit the city when I need stimulation, then return home to somewhere quieter at the end of the day.
Somewhere I can slightly see Mt. Fuji in the distance and somehow feel grounded by it.
Not because I need to be isolated from the world.
But because I want enough space to hear myself think again.
And honestly, I think that’s why Kanagawa feels right to me. It’s balanced.
And maybe that’s why this season of my life feels so conflicting too.
Because right now, I’m somewhere far from where I feel most like myself.
Here in Iwakuni, life is quieter.
Slower.
More isolated.
Sometimes so quiet that I feel like I can almost hear myself breathing.
And to be honest, I’m still trying to get used to it.
I’m still learning how to exist in this kind of silence without
feeling emotionally swallowed by it.
Some days feel peaceful.
Some days feel lonely.
Some days feel like my creativity is searching for something it can’t fully find here yet.
Because creativity, at least for me, has always been connected to movement, inspiration, people, spaces, cafés, city lights, bookstores, trains, conversations, and simply feeling connected to life around me.
And maybe that’s the difficult part about starting over somewhere unfamiliar.
Sometimes your environment affects you more than you expect.
But I think this experience also made me understand myself better.
Not just where I want to live.
But what kind of life I actually want to build.