PRELUDE
PRELUDE
“ Skipping the neon rush of Tokyo and Osaka, my wife and I kicked off our journey in Japan right inside the Kofu city—a quiet basin ringed by mountains. This city became our ultimate real-world starting zone: breaking stereotypes inside a Japanese language school, and grinding through life in the wild local elements. It was our hidden dojo to level up from scratch. And honestly? Some things you only truly get once you make it out of the basin. "
“ Skipping the neon rush of Tokyo and Osaka, my wife and I kicked off our journey in Japan right inside the Kofu city—a quiet basin ringed by mountains. This city became our ultimate real-world starting zone: breaking stereotypes inside a Japanese language school, and grinding through life in the wild local elements. It was our hidden dojo to level up from scratch. And honestly? Some things you only truly get once you make it out of the basin. "
Hop on the Chuo Line train heading west from Tokyo, chill for about an hour and a half, and you’ll crash straight into Kofu, Yamanashi（山梨甲府）—a little city of barely 180,000 people trapped inside Japan’s biggest giant bathtub, locked in by famous mountain peaks on all sides. I still remember the exact day I set foot here in early October 2022: the whole city was completely covered in the sweet, cozy scent of blooming osmanthus flowers (キンモクセイ).
Hop on the Chuo Line train heading west from Tokyo, chill for about an hour and a half, and you’ll crash straight into Kofu, Yamanashi（山梨甲府）—a little city of barely 180,000 people trapped inside Japan’s biggest giant bathtub, locked in by famous mountain peaks on all sides. I still remember the exact day I set foot here in early October 2022: the whole city was completely covered in the sweet, cozy scent of blooming osmanthus flowers (キンモクセイ).
Whenever people hear "Yamanashi," they immediately think of Mount Fuji, which tourists and postcards have already beat to death. But if you actually dive into the Koshu Basin（甲州盆地）, you get a totally different vibe. The real personality of this place is carved right into its crazy weather.
Whenever people hear "Yamanashi," they immediately think of Mount Fuji, which tourists and postcards have already beat to death. But if you actually dive into the Koshu Basin（甲州盆地）, you get a totally different vibe. The real personality of this place is carved right into its crazy weather.
Summers bake like a pizza oven—leave a brand-new black tee out on the balcony, and in three days flat, it bleaches into a weird rusty red. On top of that, the wild temperature gap between the mountains and the valley kicks up massive winds every single afternoon. You’d think it feels nice and breezy, right? Wrong! It literally feels like eighty thousand hair dryers blasting hot air straight into your face on high!
Summers bake like a pizza oven—leave a brand-new black tee out on the balcony, and in three days flat, it bleaches into a weird rusty red. On top of that, the wild temperature gap between the mountains and the valley kicks up massive winds every single afternoon. You’d think it feels nice and breezy, right? Wrong! It literally feels like eighty thousand hair dryers blasting hot air straight into your face on high!
Winters do a complete 180—super dry. Getting zapped by train handrails during the day is just the warmup; take off your sweater in the dark at night, and the static sparks pop hard enough to light up the whole bedroom. Snow is rare, but without fail, the basin will treat you to at least one good snowfall every single year.
Winters do a complete 180—super dry. Getting zapped by train handrails during the day is just the warmup; take off your sweater in the dark at night, and the static sparks pop hard enough to light up the whole bedroom. Snow is rare, but without fail, the basin will treat you to at least one good snowfall every single year.
But honestly, the spring and fall squished in the middle? You will fall head over heels, totally in love with them.Because of this crazy sunshine and wild day-and-night temperature swings, the local peaches, plums, and grapes taste insanely sweet.
But honestly, the spring and fall squished in the middle? You will fall head over heels, totally in love with them.Because of this crazy sunshine and wild day-and-night temperature swings, the local peaches, plums, and grapes taste insanely sweet.
And somehow, this hidden-away little city became my very first stop in Japan. My reason was dead simple: big cities are way too loud, and I just wanted a chill, quiet spot surrounded by mountains to hit the reset button on my life.
And somehow, this hidden-away little city became my very first stop in Japan. My reason was dead simple: big cities are way too loud, and I just wanted a chill, quiet spot surrounded by mountains to hit the reset button on my life.
Foreigners in Kofu are nowhere near as common as in the big cities, so if you're hoping to live here by clinging to your mother tongue, you're out of luck—unless you happen to be from China or Vietnam. From sorting out residency at City Hall and opening a bank account to buying a bag of rice at the supermarket or catching a local bus, every single step forces you to spit out Japanese on pain of daily collapse.
Foreigners in Kofu are nowhere near as common as in the big cities, so if you're hoping to live here by clinging to your mother tongue, you're out of luck—unless you happen to be from China or Vietnam. From sorting out residency at City Hall and opening a bank account to buying a bag of rice at the supermarket or catching a local bus, every single step forces you to spit out Japanese on pain of daily collapse.
Freshly arrived international students usually lose their minds at first, running to their teachers for help every five minutes. But this sink-or-swim setup was an accidental blessing; my Japanese got better so fast it actually freaked me out. Luckily, the locals are super patient.
Freshly arrived international students usually lose their minds at first, running to their teachers for help every five minutes. But this sink-or-swim setup was an accidental blessing; my Japanese got better so fast it actually freaked me out. Luckily, the locals are super patient.
If you ever run into a rude one, you might as well go buy a lottery ticket, because the odds are about the same. Small as it is, daily life is super solid. Supermarket shelves are always packed: Wagyu, US beef, Aussie steaks side by side, right next to hardcore country snacks like fried grasshoppers and braised silkworm pupae chilling right there in the grocery section. Life feels grounded, but delightfully weird.
If you ever run into a rude one, you might as well go buy a lottery ticket, because the odds are about the same. Small as it is, daily life is super solid. Supermarket shelves are always packed: Wagyu, US beef, Aussie steaks side by side, right next to hardcore country snacks like fried grasshoppers and braised silkworm pupae chilling right there in the grocery section. Life feels grounded, but delightfully weird.
One of the few places in city overflowing with foreigners is Unitas Japanese Language School.
One of the few places in city overflowing with foreigners is Unitas Japanese Language School.
The street out front was nicknamed "International Street" by the locals. Walk through the front doors, and it’s like diving headfirst into a mini United Nations, with faces from dozens of countries crammed under one roof. In class, you get those picture-perfect teachers straight out of a Japanese TV drama.
The street out front was nicknamed "International Street" by the locals. Walk through the front doors, and it’s like diving headfirst into a mini United Nations, with faces from dozens of countries crammed under one roof. In class, you get those picture-perfect teachers straight out of a Japanese TV drama.
But if you just sit there cramming grammar rules for tests, by the time you reach the advanced class, you just end up as a boring, soulless bookworm. The real action happens outside: teaming up with classmates from all over the world where nobody shares a native language, rolling deep into the streets on a "quest" armed only with scrappy, broken Japanese. Picture three or four of us on a street corner, trying to chat up an old local dude who talks in heavy Koshu mountain dialect. He takes one look at our clumsy moves, his eyebrows shoot up, and he barks: "ちょびちょびしちょし!" ("Quit clowning around!").
But if you just sit there cramming grammar rules for tests, by the time you reach the advanced class, you just end up as a boring, soulless bookworm. The real action happens outside: teaming up with classmates from all over the world where nobody shares a native language, rolling deep into the streets on a "quest" armed only with scrappy, broken Japanese. Picture three or four of us on a street corner, trying to chat up an old local dude who talks in heavy Koshu mountain dialect. He takes one look at our clumsy moves, his eyebrows shoot up, and he barks: "ちょびちょびしちょし!" ("Quit clowning around!").
We just stood there looking at each other like idiots, with no clue whether he was trying to be cute or cursing our entire bloodline. But between his wild hand gestures and our lucky guesses, that’s how our street smarts and the real rules of old-school Japanese society finally clicked.
We just stood there looking at each other like idiots, with no clue whether he was trying to be cute or cursing our entire bloodline. But between his wild hand gestures and our lucky guesses, that’s how our street smarts and the real rules of old-school Japanese society finally clicked.
Hanging out in that little bubble tore every single stereotype to shreds—like watching an Italian guy twirling spaghetti from Saizeriya with chopsticks, completely unfazed. That’s where I learned what open-mindedness really means: stop using your own background as the baseline for the entire universe. It’s like when everyone gets together to make dumplings. You realize Japan has gyoza, China has jiaozi, Argentina rolls empanadas, India fries samosas, and in Xinjiang, baked meat buns go by the exact same name. Arguing over who’s the most "authentic" or who did it first is totally lame. The real fun is tearing open that dough and checking out all the weird, awesome fillings inside.
Hanging out in that little bubble tore every single stereotype to shreds—like watching an Italian guy twirling spaghetti from Saizeriya with chopsticks, completely unfazed. That’s where I learned what open-mindedness really means: stop using your own background as the baseline for the entire universe. It’s like when everyone gets together to make dumplings. You realize Japan has gyoza, China has jiaozi, Argentina rolls empanadas, India fries samosas, and in Xinjiang, baked meat buns go by the exact same name. Arguing over who’s the most "authentic" or who did it first is totally lame. The real fun is tearing open that dough and checking out all the weird, awesome fillings inside.
All that amazing fruit in the basin isn't free—every year, the school drags everyone out to the vineyards to bag grapes on the vine (ブドウ掛け). Come harvest time in the fall, the local wineries crack open wine aged two years prior and let us drink as much as humanly possible. Take a big gulp—damn, that's rich! It clearly tastes like the hands of that Mexican girl senpai (先輩) from two years ago!
All that amazing fruit in the basin isn't free—every year, the school drags everyone out to the vineyards to bag grapes on the vine (ブドウ掛け). Come harvest time in the fall, the local wineries crack open wine aged two years prior and let us drink as much as humanly possible. Take a big gulp—damn, that's rich! It clearly tastes like the hands of that Mexican girl senpai (先輩) from two years ago!
The bites paired with the drinks were in a wild-game league of their own: grilled venison and wild boar stew were the baseline, and when the mood struck, they’d even whip up a massive, hardcore pot of bear meat curry. At gatherings like these, the ultimate spectator sport was watching our usually buttoned-up, super-proper teachers toss back a few drinks, drop their guard completely, and show off their gloriously unhinged drunken antics.
The bites paired with the drinks were in a wild-game league of their own: grilled venison and wild boar stew were the baseline, and when the mood struck, they’d even whip up a massive, hardcore pot of bear meat curry. At gatherings like these, the ultimate spectator sport was watching our usually buttoned-up, super-proper teachers toss back a few drinks, drop their guard completely, and show off their gloriously unhinged drunken antics.
The annual Winter Party was never fancy food, but the energy was through the roof. Everyone got a nice buzz going, talked trash, watched people put on goofy performances, and then split into small crews to hit up local bars for round two. Toss in the giant Shingen-ko parade where the whole city dresses up like samurai, crazy Halloween bashes, and by the time our class graduated, we even tore down a tiny venue with a sweaty, loud-as-hell indie rock show.
The annual Winter Party was never fancy food, but the energy was through the roof. Everyone got a nice buzz going, talked trash, watched people put on goofy performances, and then split into small crews to hit up local bars for round two. Toss in the giant Shingen-ko parade where the whole city dresses up like samurai, crazy Halloween bashes, and by the time our class graduated, we even tore down a tiny venue with a sweaty, loud-as-hell indie rock show.
The craziest part, though, was that the second the party ended and everyone crashed, the city flipped straight back into power-saver mode—dead quiet, super slow, totally unbothered, with the mountains wrapping around you like a big, quiet blanket.
The craziest part, though, was that the second the party ended and everyone crashed, the city flipped straight back into power-saver mode—dead quiet, super slow, totally unbothered, with the mountains wrapping around you like a big, quiet blanket.
It was like a hidden dojo out in the wild. You get fried by the sun, shocked by static electricity, fueled by local wine, and fed on mountain game. Without even realizing it, you sharpen your Japanese, figure out how Japanese society actually works, and open your mind wide up. Once your stats are maxed out, your health bar is full, and you finally head out into the bigger world, that’s when it hits you: starting out in this forgotten little valley gave you all the grit you’ll ever need.
It was like a hidden dojo out in the wild. You get fried by the sun, shocked by static electricity, fueled by local wine, and fed on mountain game. Without even realizing it, you sharpen your Japanese, figure out how Japanese society actually works, and open your mind wide up. Once your stats are maxed out, your health bar is full, and you finally head out into the bigger world, that’s when it hits you: starting out in this forgotten little valley gave you all the grit you’ll ever need.
You don’t truly get it until you make it out of the basin!
You don’t truly get it until you make it out of the basin!
