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When I was 23, I wanted to give it all up. I mean, was quitting my job and moving to Tokyo with no future job or apartment the smartest thing to do? Probably not. I was working in Berlin as a content moderator for a social media company, working endless hours every weekend, earning minimum wage and living in a one-room, windowless apartment that I was embarrassed about. I wasn't exactly leaving the dream life behind me. A few months later I had quit my job, left my apartment, had a small goodbye party with only four friends, and I was on a one way plane to Tokyo Narita International Airport. I landed in Japan on an early spring morning. I didn't expect the sunny warm March days that welcomed me, the vibrant coffee culture, the quiet streets devoid of drunk tourists, the lack of bins anywhere yet spotless streets. And the cherry blossoms! I had arrived in late March, thinking they'd be long gone. Instead, a few plum trees were lining the riverbank already. Cherry blossoms or "sakura" signify a time of renewal, and it seemed unbelievable that just 24 hours ago I had been in cold, gray, unfriendly Berlin. I spent my first weeks visiting alleys, shops, metro stations, parks and buildings on my own. I tried all the food that seemed strange or unusual from the famed convenience stores or "konbini". Mochi rice cakes that felt like glue, melon pan bread, sushi, baked cheese tarts, soufflé pancakes, and my absolute favorite tuna mayo onigiri. I discovered that everything advertised as sakura-flavored was horrible thanks to the red bean paste they used and everyone but me loved. The only exception being a sakura-themed coffee I found near Tokyo Tower. I stayed away from "natto", the notorious fermented soybeans that looked like boogers in a cup but bought squid or octopus on a stick with teriyaki sauce every time I passed a vendor. I woke up excited for what the day ahead held, which was also a new feeling in my life. Should I walk to the imperial gardens today and have a picnic under the biggest, brightest cherry blossom I could find? Or should I go to Akihabara the "Electric Town" and spend some hours at the arcade? Should I eat some udon noodles before or after my trip to the Shinto Shrine where I can write my hopes and wishes for the future on a piece of wood? The priests at the shrine would collect all the pieces of wood and pray for them to become true, but I didn't know if they could read my wishes in English. In the next months, I signed up for all events I could, even when sometimes I was hesitant or unsure of my limits. Whether that was making friends at a hostel, or hiking Mt. Fuji to witness the breathtaking sunrise (breathtaking because I got altitude sickness and couldn't wait to get off that mountain), or even stripping down naked in an onsen bathhouse in front of dozens of strangers. As long as you looked determinedly into everyone's eyes and hoped they were doing the same. Of course, my days of endless exploring and eating couldn't be sustained forever. Eventually, I had to find a job in Tokyo whilst navigating a foreign bureaucratic system. I found a job teaching English that granted me a work visa, and I could now stay in Tokyo forever as I had always wanted. Life is unpredictable and I didn't end up living in Tokyo forever. An unforeseen circumstance came in the shape of an Englishman I had met one night in a hostel in Kyoto. But that's a story for another day.