A lot of people like to think of expat life, especially diplomatic life, as glamorous. I think this is because hardly anybody ever talks about the first few weeks. You see, the first few days are fun. They’re exciting and everything feels so new. You feel like a tourist and, as the spouse, your role is to look for an apartment and explore on your free time. But once you find your apartment, that’s when the real work begins. That’s when it hits you that you’re no longer a tourist gaijin (foreigner) but a resident gaijin without the necessary experience to be smug about it and feel superior compared to the tourist gaijins. 

I often describe this stage as being in a comedy show where I’m usually the joke. So a key lesson in expat living is to learn how to laugh at yourself. In Germany, I had a few incidents with our hausmeister (building manager), where I thought my Deutsch was good enough to ask him things about our building, like which key to use to open the parking garage. Spoiler alert: My Deutsch was not good enough. I later found out that our exchange was confusing because every time he asked me whether I had a particular key, I would reply with “Haben Sie!” which means “Do you have?” instead of “I have!”

You would imagine that I’m now smart enough not to pull that kind of stunt in Japan.

I arrived into our apartment, which means I skipped the fun, tourist gaijin part of the posting. My husband, efficient as always, already got some of the basics, too. A microwave, a kettle, and a futon to sleep on. They’ll tide us over until our shipment arrives (maybe) in mid-January. This is the part where it feels like you’re camping but you’re in an empty apartment. Not so glamorous but essential for character development and strengthening your marriage. 

On Christmas Eve, the most romantic night in Japan (Google says it beats Valentine’s Day), we found ourselves doing long, romantic walks on the aisles of Ikea and Nitori (the Japanese Ikea). We were looking for a bathroom mat. 

Four days from arrival, I had my first diplomat’s wife challenge: ordering curtains. Armed with Google Maps, Google Translate, rough measurements, and my husband on speed dial, I was able to finish everything in… four hours. In my defense, did you know that there are more than two ways to hang a curtain? There are also adjustments to the measurements depending on the type of window you have. You learn something new every day! Thankfully, the staff members at Nitori were comforting, saying that I wasn’t the longest-staying foreigner in their curtain desk. I resisted the urge to hug them.

Finding a flat was a challenge for my husband due to our dog’s size. Dogs in Japan are normally smaller breeds so anything above 10 kilograms makes the search for an apartment a bit more difficult. We did get lucky, though. The one apartment that accepted our fatty of a dog is in a neighborhood we preferred and well within budget. A dog-friendly neighborhood with small bars and restaurants, it is also walking distance to his office. Like most flats in Tokyo, it’s small—just a little more than half of the space we had in Manila. But so many things about it make sense. The big windows, the efficient use of space, the storage options. Even the smart features (considered standard here) will make three-year-old me think I’m living like The Jetsons. You all know about those magical toilets and I swear, it’s one of the things I was so excited about. “It’s a country where everything has been thoroughly thought through,” my husband told me while we were taking the metro. 

But nothing humbles you more as an adult than not being able to do something as simple as turning on the water heater in the dead of winter. I can read Hiragana but all the appliances and electric panels at home had Kanji and I was as lost as Google Translate. I did contemplate on showering with freezing water. “Like that one time in Helsinki when we jumped into the cold sea post-sauna,” I told myself. “But without the sauna part.” There was also the option of not showering, which I embarrassingly opted for. I haven’t seen my husband in a month and no shower on our first day together wasn’t how I pictured our reunion. Thankfully, just half an hour later, I got messages from my friend Haruki. She sent back the photos I gave her of every electric panel we have at home with translations! My pride and ego remain intact, thanks to her.

I’ve so far made friendly conversation with delivery personnel and café staff while my dog has become quite the star in our neighborhood. Ladies giggling and saying kawaii (cute) every time he passes by have become quite the norm. Even our delivery lady loves “corgi-chan.” Life tip: If you ever struggle with making friends, get yourself a chubby dog. 

“I live here now,” I found myself saying to myself today as I sat on the bus. It does help that every third person in Shibuya the last few days was speaking Tagalog. But jokes aside, it’s always daunting to be taken out of your comfort zone. But that’s how we learn and expand our world. I don’t think I’m the same Carol who moved to Kuala Lumpur or the one who moved to Berlin. Maybe it’ll take a while longer for me to earn my resident gaijin stripes here but thank goodness the Japanese are so understanding of lost foreigners like me.