Living in Japan as an American Foreigner: Is It Hard or Worth It

Table of Contents — Click any section to jump ahead.

• Why I came in the first place.
• What is it like to live in Japan?
• Is it a good idea to live in Japan?
• Is Japan expensive?
• What are Japanese taxes like?
• Is living in Japan hard?
• Can I live in Japan without Japanese?
• Is it hard finding housing in Japan?
• What is Japanese work culture like for foreigners?
• What are the pros and cons of living in Japan?
• Final Thoughts

Why I came in the first place.

I was born and raised in Southern California to Syrian immigrant parents. As someone who grew up Arab and Muslim in post-9/11 America, I know what it feels like to live in a constant state of apology for what people who shared my identity did to the U.S. It was never-ending suspicion, and a desperate attempt to prove I was as American as everyone else.

After graduating college, I found myself stuck with the question of what to do next. I’d landed a job in tech support for a security camera manufacturer. It was rewarding in its own way, but I knew it was leading me to a dead end. I didn’t want to stand at a dead end for the next 30 years, regretting not taking a chance. Then one phone call with a close friend changed my perspective.

That’s when Japan entered the picture. In March 2017, I found myself face to face with the giant Godzilla statue in Shinjuku, about to embark on a journey with no idea where it would lead; I still don’t know, but I’m here for it. From that first step I began to learn what living in Japan really feels like.

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What is it like to live in Japan?—It’s liberating.

From the moment I stepped off the plane, the way I was perceived by people was no longer tied to things that happened in West Asia. I was now just a foreigner. It’s an oversimplification of my complex identity, but the most liberating one: I was lumped together with the whole world. We are all called the same thing—gaikokujin (outsider).

No more suspicion, just sympathy. For a long time after I came here, people forgave me for whatever mistakes I made or small cultural faux pas. Never once did I feel like I was seen as an enemy. I felt more welcome as an outsider in Japan—a country completely alien to me—than I did in the country where I was born and raised.

I was a kid in the rain getting soaked. Japan was the umbrella that tilted just enough to cover me.

The irony is that many of my Japanese friends told me they felt free when they left Japan. We were on opposite sides of the same equation, both flipping our signs. They found freedom abroad, escaping Japan’s overbearing rules, enjoying a society where people mostly keep to themselves. Here in Japan, there is a hyper-awareness of your environment and your place in it.

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Is it hard for Americans to live in Japan?—Yes.

I love this question. As an American I can answer it, but as a Syrian I can also reflect on it differently. In the U.S., ‘freedom’ often comes with a strong emphasis on individual choice, and it is sometimes expressed with the phrase, ‘What? It’s a free country!’ In Japan, however, freedom is closely tied to courtesy for others. That shift in mindset can be challenging for many to adjust to.

As a Syrian, I actually found parts of Japanese culture familiar. Kids would ask me about wearing shoes indoors, and I’d explain that I never wore shoes inside growing up. At washoku (traditional restaurants), people would warn me about sitting on the floor without chairs, only to be surprised when I sat comfortably in seiza. I’d done it my whole life at mosques.

Still, I can see why Americans might find it harder. American culture places a strong value on individuality, while Japan places greater emphasis on harmony within the group. In the U.S., the question is often, ‘What’s in it for me?’ In Japan, it’s more likely, ‘What’s best for everyone?’

Take parking lots, for example: in America, arriving early often means grabbing the closest spot. In Japan, people sometimes park farther away to leave the closer spots for those arriving late. That’s collectivism in action. Japan, in many ways, thinks of itself as one team, and that mindset shapes daily life. Seen this way, many of Japan’s countless ‘rules’ aren’t about being strict; they’re about making sure no one’s comfort comes at another person’s expense."

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Is it a good idea to live in Japan?—Yes! Even if it's for a year.

Eugene Sledge, a marine who fought in WWII on the Pacific front, once wrote about the crushing terror of constant shelling, and how civilians back home could never understand war unless they experienced even a mock bombardment themselves. In the same spirit, I think if more people lived abroad, and felt an even mild sense of being decentered—that jolt when you realize you are not the priority, not the norm, but simply one among many in someone else’s world—they would return home with deeper empathy for others. That perspective is worth more than any guidebook about train etiquette or convenience store food.

Maybe the ideal isn’t one culture or the other, but the balance between them—the independence of America tempered by Japan’s consideration for others. Somewhere in the middle lies something close to a utopia.

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Is Japan expensive?—No, but be careful.

When I came to Japan in 2017, the dollar was worth about 106 yen. Eight years later, after a pandemic and economic turmoil, it’s around 147 yen per dollar. Great news for travelers, but tough for those of us paid in yen.

There’s never been a better time to visit Japan. Your money will go further, which is one reason record numbers of tourists are arriving. But if you plan to stay, be careful. When I first moved here, I lived recklessly and burned through my savings. When the yen was stronger, it felt like putting from the green—progress came easily. But now, with a weaker yen, it’s more like hitting from the rough: every shot takes effort, and the ball hardly moves.

My advice: if you plan to live in Japan, save enough not only for life here, but also for a ticket home in case of emergency.

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What are Japanese taxes like?

I can only share my experience: there’s income tax, residence tax, health insurance premiums, pension contributions, and unemployment insurance.

• Income tax: Withheld from your paycheck, similar to the U.S.

• Residence tax: Often billed separately by your city the following year. Some companies (like mine) deduct it directly, but that’s not standard.

• Health insurance and pension: Paid manually, usually at convenience stores with a barcode slip—though automatic bank withdrawal is possible.

• Unemployment insurance (koyō hoken): A small deduction that supports workers in case of job loss.

Each of the tax bills you receive (health, residence, pension) can be paid at the convenience store. We have a separate post about all the functions of Japanese convenience stores here. And if you’re worried about what to say, don’t worry. The cashier knows the drill: just handing over the bill is enough. They’ll process it, stamp your slip as “paid,” and hand it back once the money is received.

Health insurance premiums are based on your previous year’s income. If you’re new to Japan, there’s no record, so your first year is cheap (mine was about ¥10,000). Residence tax also doesn’t apply the first year. But in your second year, costs jump once your financial history is on record.

You may hear about Shakai Hoken (social insurance)—this is the system that bundles health, pension, unemployment, and workers comp. I’ve never been enrolled in it myself, since my jobs didn’t require it, so I’ve only dealt with the national systems separately.

Pension contributions: Legally, everyone must join. Some cities enforce it strictly, others less so, but if you stay long-term, the pension office will eventually follow up. Many foreigners assume they’ll only stay a year or two, but life can change quickly—and if you stay longer, you may face backpay.

Before leaving Japan, you can apply for the lump-sum withdrawal (dattai ichijikin), which refunds up to three years of contributions. Beyond that, you don’t get extra back—but thanks to the Japan-U.S. social security treaty, your years in Japan can still count toward the U.S. Social Security.

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Is living in Japan hard?—Yeah, kind of.

Even if you speak the language, Japan isn’t catered to you. The basics—finding an apartment, registering at city hall, updating your address, switching your driver’s license—all require in-person visits with paperwork. Nothing is really online.

One of my biggest gripes has been Yūcho Bank. Any change—a name, an address—requires a hanko stamp. Getting a stamp in the first place feels like an adventure straight out of Zelda. And online banking is practically a fiction. People still use bankbooks to track their balances, and the “apps” offered by banks feel like a step back into the stone age.

You’ll quickly learn Japan isn’t in the ‘future’ as people have imagined. It’s paperwork, stamps, and face-to-face bureaucracy. But in the end, that hassle comes with a kind of security: the system is designed to make sure the person doing the business is really who they say they are. It sucks, especially when you forget your hanko at home, but it is what it is. しょうがない

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Can I live in Japan without Japanese?—Yes, for the first year. But…

When I first arrived in Japan, I knew only two words: sayonara (thanks, John Connor in Terminator 2) and arigatō (thanks, Styx). I’d watched anime in Japanese, but never with the idea I’d end up here, so nothing stuck. In hindsight, I think that was for the best.

With translation apps, AI, and gestures, you can scrape by. Many ALT jobs even prefer you not to use Japanese in class, though elementary schools sometimes welcome it. Still, everything around you is in Japanese, and you’ll often feel lost.

Most Japanese people study English for six years. A few get really good at it, but for most it’s just another subject to pass—quickly forgotten once school is over. Most people will avoid talking to you in English to cover for that fact. When I first arrived, my friends often gave me the same look: “I wish I studied English better.” These days, my Japanese is strong enough to meet them halfway, which makes all the difference.

There’s one thing, though, that even experienced learners struggle with: a concept called kuuki o yomu (空気を読む), literally “reading the air.” The English equivalent would be “reading the room,” but the Japanese version goes further. My father-in-law once compared it to reading someone’s mind. The idea is simple: if you understand a situation, the right reaction should be obvious, because you’re considering everyone else’s feelings. It ties closely to Japan’s collectivist mindset—and even after years here, I still stumble with it.

My advice: make a bilingual friend early. You’ll need help with bureaucracy. But if you plan to stay longer, learn the language—and just as importantly, pay attention to how people react in everyday situations. That’s how you start to “read the air.” Otherwise, relying too much on others for translation will eventually wear them down, and you’ll risk becoming a burden

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Is it hard finding housing in Japan?—In theory no, but also yes.

I can’t speak for everyone, but here’s my story. When I first moved, I rented a Leopalace studio for about ¥44,000 a month. Then came the scandal—the company admitted some of its apartments had skipped fire-safety regulations, and I, along with 13,999 other tenants, was told to relocate within a month.

To their credit, Leopalace covered the moving costs. They gave me a choice: find a similar studio, or take a bigger place for the same price. I picked the upgrade—and ended up in a two-story, two-bedroom apartment with a living room, kitchen, and a prime location near the grocery store and station. It was a stressful moment, but the silver lining was huge.

That’s not the standard housing experience, though. Normally, when you move, you go through a fudōsan (real estate agent). They don’t just sell houses—they manage rentals for private landlords. You apply, they vet you, and the landlord has the final say.

Why do so many foreigners struggle? Simply put: landlords see us as flight risks. Some foreigners leave the country mid-contract, often because of culture shock, and landlords don’t want the hassle.

That said, companies like Leopalace21 cater specifically to foreigners. I stayed with them for almost seven years, and whenever something broke—TV, fridge, washer, even the AC—they replaced it quickly. My only complaints? Slow internet (their “premium” service capped at 100 Mbps), no option for my own fiber line, and their mini-fridges. For a gamer like me, the lack of high-speed internet was rough. But overall, they weren’t a bad company to rent from.

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What is Japanese work culture like for foreigners?—Honestly, hard to say.

I’ve only worked for one company since I arrived, and my experience has been surprisingly chill. I work as an ALT in the countryside, and since I’m employed by a dispatch company, my “real” boss isn’t the principal—it’s the company I signed with. That means my contract dictates when I leave, not school culture. None of the principals I’ve worked under have pressured me to stay late.

Japanese teachers, though, are another story. They’re chronically overworked. I’ve seen initiatives designed to force better work-life balance—like principals and vice-principals leaving the building early so everyone else has no choice but to follow. It’s sad to see, but it also reflects a cultural mentality: once you choose a path, you dedicate your life to it. That’s why you see shops that sell only one item—the pursuit of mastery.

Being in that environment has influenced me too. It’s pushed me to pursue excellence no matter the job. But I need to be clear: my experience isn’t universal. There are real horror stories in Japanese work culture, and they deserve more than a passing comment here. For me, the lesson has been this: Japan’s work culture reflects its pursuit of mastery. Inspiring at times, crushing at others.

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What are the pros and cons of living in Japan?—There are a lot!

Cons

• Bureaucracy. Slow and old-school: everything is on paper, in Japanese, handled in person, and unforgiving if you make a mistake—or worse, forget your hanko.

• Language barrier. Japanese is the official language, and people may avoid you to save face. If you can’t speak it, making friends will be hard. And even if you’re fluent, there’s still kuuki o yomu (“reading the air”)—a cultural intuition that trips up even advanced speakers.

• Social isolation. People keep to themselves (an introvert’s dream). Forming deep friendships takes time, especially outside major cities—and especially if you don’t speak the language. Japan is welcoming, but it can still feel like you’re always just outside the circle. We have a remedy for that here by the way.

• Housing is small. Even my “big” apartment had a bathroom too tight to stretch my arms in. And I couldn’t open certain cabinets if certain doors were opened. Have you tried cutting vegetables on a washing machine?

• Western comforts & food variety. Imported foods are pricey and often taste “off” (don’t get me started on Japanese Hot Cheetos). And outside big cities, the food variety is narrow—if you’re used to SoCal’s mix of Mexican, Syrian, Thai, etc., the lack of options stings. Check out our post about food you might encounter in Japan here!

Pros

• Healthcare is affordable. Even with Japan’s 70/30 split, the 30% out-of-pocket often costs less than a U.S. copay. My first dentist bill here was less than a Starbucks order.

• Safety is unmatched. Lost wallets and phones almost always find their way back to their owners—even in busy Shibuya. I once left my wallet on a train; it was waiting at the lost-and-found the next day, cash untouched. People even sleep off their drunken nights in public without fear.

• Public transportation is excellent. You can reach almost anywhere by train, and the system is efficient and punctual (just don’t miss the last one).

• It’s clean. Trash cans are rare, but litter is rarer—a shock to most visitors. People take responsibility for their own waste. Wondering how they do it, we have a post about it here.

• No tip culture. Workers are paid fair wages, and service doesn’t hinge on tips.

• Food quality is top-notch. Convenience store meals are carefully made, flavors are true to their names, and the general standard of food puts the U.S. to shame.

• Customer service is consistent. Whether it’s a restaurant, store, or service desk, the professionalism is uniform across the board—no “hit-or-miss” days like back home

• Currency rate (for visitors). A weak yen is tough on expats like me, but great for tourists. There’s never been a better time to visit.

Wrap-up: Living in Japan is a balance of daily frustrations and quiet joys—and while the cons are real, the pros often win out.

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Final Thoughts

Muslims are required to perform Hajj at least once in their lives—a pilgrimage meant to recalibrate the soul. In a similar way, I believe every American should live abroad at least once. Not for food or festivals, but to understand what culture really is: the unspoken rules that allow people to coexist without constant friction.

In Japan, people don’t think of themselves as especially courteous; it’s just the norm. Meanwhile, in the U.S., cleaning up after yourself is treated like a heroic act. That gap in perspective is exactly why the experience is valuable.

If you’re young, free of obligations, and curious—do it. Move to Japan for a year. Work, travel, struggle, learn. It will strengthen your character and broaden your worldview.

If you’re older or tied down, plan carefully. Don’t treat Japan as an escape from responsibilities. But if you can manage it, even for a short time, it’s worth it. Many people test the waters with a vacation, then make the move later.

However you come, one thing is certain: you’ll leave with more empathy than you arrived with.

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