Jul 3

Leaving JET: “Dear God, what have I done!?”

LifeAfterJET, Writers Comments Off on Leaving JET: “Dear God, what have I done!?”

By Hollie Mantle (Gunma-ken, 2011-13) who lives in the UK but has great memories of Gumma, home to the wonderful choking hazard konniyaku.

In February some of you would have ticked that fateful box and signed away all ties to that sweet, sweet wage packet and comfortable life you’re living tucked away in one of Japan’s mountainside prefectures, famous for cabbages or sweet potatoes or a particular flavour of senbei. (Oh the fame, the glory!) As it’s coming up to just before home time, I thought I’d give you a few tips just to horrify you into clinging desperately to your futon and make you comfort-eat kara-age as you think ‘DEAR GOD WHAT HAVE I DONE?’

Japan is unimaginably safe. You leave your phone, keys, computer and bank details on a table in Starbucks, go outside and make a phone call, go to the toilets and come back and not only will nothing have been stolen but there will be a free sample of cake next to your coffee cup. You sleep on the train without anyone scrawling profanities across your forehead. You leave home without locking your door and don’t feel that dawning realisation that all of your worldly belongings are now being vended on a market stall in a dodgy part of town. At home, if you nod off on the train people will loot your vital organs while you’re sleeping. They take no prisoners. That last tenner sneakily pointing out of your wallet? It’s a goner. There will be times that your things will be taken from you whilst you’re still clinging on to them.

Eating out in Japan is cheaper than air in your home country. Kaitenzushi, donburi, ramen… All delivered in the blink of an eye, by a waiter who almost definitely hasn’t spat in your food, in exchange for a couple of shiny, silver coins. At home, sushi costs the same price as a human kidney and will be shoved into your hands as you are ushered out of the door to make way for the next customer, while paying the tip involves pawning your own grandmother.

You’ve got used to the comforting knowledge that strangers are always there to give you a helping hand. Cautious of you at first, that obaachan is only staring because she wants to take a picture, or drag you into her living room to force feed you grapefruit and send you home with enough senbei to stock the local omiyage shop. Strangers, colleagues, next door neighbours – they all ply you with presents like it’s all Christmases come at once. Back where you’re from, the only thing you’re likely to be able to get for free is a knuckle sandwich. Those women handing out tissues outside Shinjuku station will become but an image in a dream as you exchange an hours wage for a box of Kleenex.

As for the job… On the whole, everything’s easy. Your supervisor calls the electrician, your BOE pays the majority of your rent, and you inherited a car from your predecessor. Some days it makes you want to rip your hair out as the kids holler ‘Let’s fighting!’ despite the fact you’ve mentioned four times that that’s not quite what we say, but all in all, when you leave at 4:30, the world of work is behind you. Back at home, on the other hand, a rat race to sell your time, and your soul, to the highest bidder awaits. Everyone is sprinting to the top of that career ladder, with the bulging eyes and permanent facial tick of those who no longer remember the names of their close friends and family.

Obviously these are exaggerations. Going or staying – there’s no right or wrong choice. You might have had enough of sweltering humidity, the lack of baked beans and the indestructible mukade and be more than ready to hop ship to start your new life.

Or perhaps you’ve made the wise choice to settle down offshore for good, in the land where beer is cheap and canned chu-his from the konbini are even cheaper. Congratulations. You are probably celebrating at the izakaya as I type, gorging on edamame by the handful and cackling wildly like only someone who is on a JET salary can. Can you send me a care package?