PRELUDE
PRELUDE
" Plans derailed, my wife and I took the slow train across the plateau into Ueda, Nagano. If Kofu was our gritty starting zone, this quiet basin was our deliberate pause. From high-altitude mountain winds to the unfiltered lives of local youth at NBL, life stripped down to its honest core. And honestly? Some things you only truly feel once you dare to slow down. "
" Plans derailed, my wife and I took the slow train across the plateau into Ueda, Nagano. If Kofu was our gritty starting zone, this quiet basin was our deliberate pause. From high-altitude mountain winds to the unfiltered lives of local youth at NBL, life stripped down to its honest core. And honestly? Some things you only truly feel once you dare to slow down. "
April. Stray cherry blossom petals swirled in the wind. My wife and I boarded the Koumi Line, the train chugging leisurely across the Kiyosato Plateau (清里高原) , carrying us straight into the city of Ueda, Nagano.
(The photo features plum blossoms.)
April. Stray cherry blossom petals swirled in the wind. My wife and I boarded the Koumi Line, the train chugging leisurely across the Kiyosato Plateau (清里高原) , carrying us straight into the city of Ueda, Nagano.
(The photo features plum blossoms.)
Just before this, life had dealt me a solid punch to the gut: all five grad school applications came back with rejections, and both our job searches in Japan completely flatlined. Standing at this dead-end crossroads, we didn't double down out of sheer stubbornness, nor did we panic. Instead, an odd sense of calm washed over us—if the standard script was ruined anyway, why not take the detour and buy ourselves more time to genuinely taste what life in Japan was like? I was even itching to step outside the safe little bubble of foreign exchange students, to see firsthand how local Japanese kids under the same roof were actually living their lives.
Just before this, life had dealt me a solid punch to the gut: all five grad school applications came back with rejections, and both our job searches in Japan completely flatlined. Standing at this dead-end crossroads, we didn't double down out of sheer stubbornness, nor did we panic. Instead, an odd sense of calm washed over us—if the standard script was ruined anyway, why not take the detour and buy ourselves more time to genuinely taste what life in Japan was like? I was even itching to step outside the safe little bubble of foreign exchange students, to see firsthand how local Japanese kids under the same roof were actually living their lives.
So, we hit the reset button on our student life at NBL (Nagano Business and Language College) in Ueda (上田). The initial reason was as simple as why we first picked Kofu: fewer people, total quiet. But this time around, our luggage carried a covert, personal agenda—fieldwork. I wanted to see how a regional Japanese vocational school actually ticked, observe the anxieties and quiet longings of these freshly minted Heisei-era young adults, and take the pulse of how regional cultures shift between different mountain basins.
So, we hit the reset button on our student life at NBL (Nagano Business and Language College) in Ueda (上田). The initial reason was as simple as why we first picked Kofu: fewer people, total quiet. But this time around, our luggage carried a covert, personal agenda—fieldwork. I wanted to see how a regional Japanese vocational school actually ticked, observe the anxieties and quiet longings of these freshly minted Heisei-era young adults, and take the pulse of how regional cultures shift between different mountain basins.
Truth be told, when I first set foot in this town, I didn't like it. Not because Ueda had anything wrong with it, but purely because my "imprinting syndrome" was acting up. Kofu had been our day one in Japan. That was where the local terroir felt like second nature, where our circle of friends was, where I could walk the streets with my eyes closed, and where the local coffee shops already knew my order. Taking that single train ride on the Koumi Line (小海線) felt like severing everything we had painstakingly built over a year and a half in Yamanashi. That sudden shock of being dumped into a cultural vacuum is something anyone who has had to relocate yet again in a foreign country will understand in a heartbeat.
Truth be told, when I first set foot in this town, I didn't like it. Not because Ueda had anything wrong with it, but purely because my "imprinting syndrome" was acting up. Kofu had been our day one in Japan. That was where the local terroir felt like second nature, where our circle of friends was, where I could walk the streets with my eyes closed, and where the local coffee shops already knew my order. Taking that single train ride on the Koumi Line (小海線) felt like severing everything we had painstakingly built over a year and a half in Yamanashi. That sudden shock of being dumped into a cultural vacuum is something anyone who has had to relocate yet again in a foreign country will understand in a heartbeat.
Thankfully, the rhythms of nature are the best remedy for a restless mind.
Thankfully, the rhythms of nature are the best remedy for a restless mind.
The cherry blossoms vanished completely, the paddies were flooded and tilled, and the chorus of summer insects grew louder by the night. The crisp mountain breeze gradually blew away our initial restlessness. We naturally fell into step with the slow, unhurried pace of the town, settling into a life that felt unmistakably pastoral.
The cherry blossoms vanished completely, the paddies were flooded and tilled, and the chorus of summer insects grew louder by the night. The crisp mountain breeze gradually blew away our initial restlessness. We naturally fell into step with the slow, unhurried pace of the town, settling into a life that felt unmistakably pastoral.
My wife even took up gardening on our tiny balcony, and for the first time in our lives, we ate vegetables we had grown with our own hands—even if, after crunching the numbers on seeds, soil, fertilizer, and water bills, buying them at the supermarket would’ve been way cheaper. Maybe because Yamanashi still clings to that vanity title of being part of the "Greater Tokyo Area," Nagano's prices were noticeably gentler, and the produce was fresher and far more abundant. Plus, the summer heat here didn't have the suffocating, sauna-like fury of the Kofu basin; it was mild and breezy instead. That long, cool stretch of temperate weather is my absolute favorite climate, even if it meant the subsequent Nagano winter would drag on for ages.
My wife even took up gardening on our tiny balcony, and for the first time in our lives, we ate vegetables we had grown with our own hands—even if, after crunching the numbers on seeds, soil, fertilizer, and water bills, buying them at the supermarket would’ve been way cheaper. Maybe because Yamanashi still clings to that vanity title of being part of the "Greater Tokyo Area," Nagano's prices were noticeably gentler, and the produce was fresher and far more abundant. Plus, the summer heat here didn't have the suffocating, sauna-like fury of the Kofu basin; it was mild and breezy instead. That long, cool stretch of temperate weather is my absolute favorite climate, even if it meant the subsequent Nagano winter would drag on for ages.
It was also here that we bought our very first car in Japan: an agile little runabout that fits the description of "Italian cheap thrills"—a Fiat 500C.
It was also here that we bought our very first car in Japan: an agile little runabout that fits the description of "Italian cheap thrills"—a Fiat 500C.
That tiny car was like a master key, blowing our radius of living wide open overnight. On crisp weekends, peeling back the canvas soft-top and letting the tires roll over the curves of the Venus Line, cutting through high-altitude meadows and rolling ridgelines, became the freest chapter of that era. Without exaggerating, in our short year and a half in Ueda, I clocked a staggering 50,000 kilometers behind that wheel.
That tiny car was like a master key, blowing our radius of living wide open overnight. On crisp weekends, peeling back the canvas soft-top and letting the tires roll over the curves of the Venus Line, cutting through high-altitude meadows and rolling ridgelines, became the freest chapter of that era. Without exaggerating, in our short year and a half in Ueda, I clocked a staggering 50,000 kilometers behind that wheel.
Wandering among boundless ranches and farmlands, life stripped itself down to its rawest, most unpretentious core. With the alpine wind hitting our faces and everything green in full bloom, there were moments when I took a deep breath and actually thought that the earthy smell of fermented soil and cow dung had a strangely honest, clean fragrance to it.
Wandering among boundless ranches and farmlands, life stripped itself down to its rawest, most unpretentious core. With the alpine wind hitting our faces and everything green in full bloom, there were moments when I took a deep breath and actually thought that the earthy smell of fermented soil and cow dung had a strangely honest, clean fragrance to it.
Yet, in a place so still and serene it bordered on ascetic, there was one glaring, noisy exception: the NBL campus.
(Graduation Trip: Daniele in Yamanashi)
Yet, in a place so still and serene it bordered on ascetic, there was one glaring, noisy exception: the NBL campus.
(Graduation Trip: Daniele in Yamanashi)
If Unitas in Kofu was a mini-United Nations, NBL felt more like "the G20 plus ASEAN." Because of my major, my class was predominantly made up of local Japanese kids under twenty fresh out of high school. To be frank, sitting among those teenagers, I spent a lot of my time taking mental notes for my personal character study.
If Unitas in Kofu was a mini-United Nations, NBL felt more like "the G20 plus ASEAN." Because of my major, my class was predominantly made up of local Japanese kids under twenty fresh out of high school. To be frank, sitting among those teenagers, I spent a lot of my time taking mental notes for my personal character study.
Being the undisputable oldest in the room, I gradually developed a weird, self-appointed "hall monitor / dad mode." I watched them get heartbroken over awkward, clumsy teenage romances; I watched them dye their hair and sneak cigarettes, trying so hard to act out and look like "bad kids"; I saw their blank stares when facing an uncertain future, and I also watched them grind away in study halls, clumsily finding their footing as they fought for college admissions or shots at studying abroad.
Being the undisputable oldest in the room, I gradually developed a weird, self-appointed "hall monitor / dad mode." I watched them get heartbroken over awkward, clumsy teenage romances; I watched them dye their hair and sneak cigarettes, trying so hard to act out and look like "bad kids"; I saw their blank stares when facing an uncertain future, and I also watched them grind away in study halls, clumsily finding their footing as they fought for college admissions or shots at studying abroad.
At the same time, I got a crystal-clear look at the parochial mindset common to small-town youth even within a wealthy, developed country like Japan. Growing up wrapped in an environment of total safety and clockwork order, they took heated Washlet seats for granted, assumed tap water you can drink straight from the faucet was just baseline human reality, and figured convenient stores on every block and a hyper-polite society were simply the global standard. They viewed the outside world with a naive, narrow lens, genuinely convinced that everywhere else operated under the exact same blueprint.
At the same time, I got a crystal-clear look at the parochial mindset common to small-town youth even within a wealthy, developed country like Japan. Growing up wrapped in an environment of total safety and clockwork order, they took heated Washlet seats for granted, assumed tap water you can drink straight from the faucet was just baseline human reality, and figured convenient stores on every block and a hyper-polite society were simply the global standard. They viewed the outside world with a naive, narrow lens, genuinely convinced that everywhere else operated under the exact same blueprint.
Standing on the opposite end of the spectrum was our band of international students.
Standing on the opposite end of the spectrum was our band of international students.
The foreign kids at NBL hailed from all over the map. Outside of class, our go-to pastime was firing up backyard barbecues, setting up charcoal grills that filled the air with a cacophony of international spices. Early on, we eagerly invited the Japanese kids from class to join our BBQ sessions, but there was always this invisible pane of glass between us. Maybe the age gap was just too wide—our international crew skewed quite a bit older, looking suspiciously like their parents' generation showing up for a PTA meeting—or maybe it was the polite defense mechanisms deeply rooted in Japanese social etiquette. We'd exchange pleasantries, but we could never quite kick back together.
The foreign kids at NBL hailed from all over the map. Outside of class, our go-to pastime was firing up backyard barbecues, setting up charcoal grills that filled the air with a cacophony of international spices. Early on, we eagerly invited the Japanese kids from class to join our BBQ sessions, but there was always this invisible pane of glass between us. Maybe the age gap was just too wide—our international crew skewed quite a bit older, looking suspiciously like their parents' generation showing up for a PTA meeting—or maybe it was the polite defense mechanisms deeply rooted in Japanese social etiquette. We'd exchange pleasantries, but we could never quite kick back together.
What finally shattered that wall was the annual NBL School Festival.
What finally shattered that wall was the annual NBL School Festival.
Nothing cuts through polite pretenses faster than a ruthless project deadline. From locking down the performance concept and pulling late-night rehearsals to hammering stage props together, everyone dropped their awkward reservations. Through all the chaos, noise, and friction, we pulled off a joint showcase that was nowhere near professional, but oozed pure, raw heart. The moment the curtains rose to whistles and roaring applause, the walls built by age and nationality dissolved in sweat. Our once-loose collection of outsiders turned into a tight-knit crew bonded like battle-tested comrades. That connection surprisingly survived the test of time; even though life eventually scattered us across different corners, we still link up every now and then to grab a drink. And, of course, to watch those kids keep growing up.
Nothing cuts through polite pretenses faster than a ruthless project deadline. From locking down the performance concept and pulling late-night rehearsals to hammering stage props together, everyone dropped their awkward reservations. Through all the chaos, noise, and friction, we pulled off a joint showcase that was nowhere near professional, but oozed pure, raw heart. The moment the curtains rose to whistles and roaring applause, the walls built by age and nationality dissolved in sweat. Our once-loose collection of outsiders turned into a tight-knit crew bonded like battle-tested comrades. That connection surprisingly survived the test of time; even though life eventually scattered us across different corners, we still link up every now and then to grab a drink. And, of course, to watch those kids keep growing up.
A year and a half slipped by like that. Come the following September, autumn breezes rolled over fields of rice, turning them into a shimmering sea of gold. Time had quietly run its course across the field ridges of Ueda. With my job finally secured, I filled out my withdrawal paperwork, packed up, and moved back to Kofu.
A year and a half slipped by like that. Come the following September, autumn breezes rolled over fields of rice, turning them into a shimmering sea of gold. Time had quietly run its course across the field ridges of Ueda. With my job finally secured, I filled out my withdrawal paperwork, packed up, and moved back to Kofu.
Stepping down from the Shinshu highlands and looking back on that pastoral chapter sparked by a detour of failures, the nourishment it gave my wife and me went far beyond any piece of paper or diploma. It taught us, down to our bones, that life is never just a breathless race toward some urgent finish line. Only when everything truly slows down do you have the space to feel the temperature of the wind, smell the turned earth, and properly chew over the sweet, bitter, and savory flavors of everyday existence.
Stepping down from the Shinshu highlands and looking back on that pastoral chapter sparked by a detour of failures, the nourishment it gave my wife and me went far beyond any piece of paper or diploma. It taught us, down to our bones, that life is never just a breathless race toward some urgent finish line. Only when everything truly slows down do you have the space to feel the temperature of the wind, smell the turned earth, and properly chew over the sweet, bitter, and savory flavors of everyday existence.
Of all the things the soil and winds of Ueda gave me, that was the most enduring lesson of all.
Of all the things the soil and winds of Ueda gave me, that was the most enduring lesson of all.
