My path to Japan started with languages: not just Japanese, but Chinese and Korean too. As someone drawn to hard problems, these languages fascinated me.
When my high school offered Japanese classes, I jumped in, even though I didn’t know much about Japan at the time. Everything changed through online exchanges with a high school in Osaka. Using Japanese with actual Japanese students, hearing about their lives, it was no longer abstract vocabulary lists but real people and real conversations.

When my school announced a five-day homestay program in Osaka, I went for it. We were paired with local Japanese families, and those five packed days had more impact than I could have imagined. I experienced my first onsen hot spring bath, spent a day in Kyoto, and got a taste of what life in the Kansai region was like. But what struck me wasn’t the tourist attractions. It was the peacefulness of it all, the way people treated each other with such respect.

The trip also delivered a humbling reality check. Despite a year of study, I could barely follow conversations. Everyone spoke so fast, the words blending in ways my textbook hadn’t prepared me for. But here’s what kept me motivated: Japanese people’s reactions when I tried speaking their language. Even my broken attempts made them light up with genuine smiles and visible pleasure that this foreigner was making the effort to speak their mother tongue. It wasn’t about perfection; it was about connection. I wanted to experience more of that.

Choosing the Sagamihara campus over the Aoyama one was unconventional, I know. When you tell a college student about the buzzing Shibuya atmosphere, it’s no wonder they get excited. But I realized that’s just not me, I’m more of a low-key guy. Coming from the more rural Arkansas, I’m not wired for 24/7 city intensity. I wanted a slower-paced Japanese suburban life, keeping the Tokyo buzz at arm’s length. I have some friends who take karate classes at the Aoyama campus, and they confirmed that the crowded commute into the city could be a tiring one. At Sagamihara, excitement is optional, not mandatory.

The practical factors mattered too. Sagamihara’s science and technology focus meant I’d meet more people with similar interests. Both campuses have their upsides, and of course there are many perks that come with being in Shibuya, but after weighing the options I felt that Sagamihara would be the right fit for me. Since I’m here for two semesters, I feel that the more relaxed environment has let me to adjust to Japan at my own pace.

Choosing to study in the School of Global Studies and Collaboration (GSC) was a deliberate decision to push myself outside my comfort zone. My curriculum since early high school has largely focused on computer science and math. I’ve always been good at those subjects, but I realized that putting all your eggs in one basket is risky. I wanted to balance STEM with humanities and interdisciplinary studies.

The shift has been profound. In computer science, you’re trained to find the correct answer efficiently and move on. But GSC’s liberal arts courses revealed how much of the real world does not work that way. My political history classes showed me that historical events resist simple narratives and are not black-and-white. There are always multiple perspectives, complex motivations, and contextual factors. Not heroes and villains, just humans making difficult choices.

This nuanced thinking will make me a better computer scientist. Technology doesn’t exist in a vacuum. Understanding societal impact, considering multiple viewpoints, appreciating human complexity: these skills matter when you’re building systems that affect people’s lives.

Japanology has been my favorite class, hands down. Instead of lectures about Japanese culture, we practice it through traditional dancing, koudan storytelling, and calligraphy. Doing these activities hands-on makes them memorable in ways lectures never could and is something that I could only experience through coming here as an exchange student.

My Japanese study has been equally intensive. I am focusing on speaking and listening courses, a big change from my self-studies back in America, when I would focus on reading and vocabulary. Even in a short few months, I have felt my listening comprehension improve dramatically. It is a challenge, since my conversational fluency lags behind my knowledge, but this pressure motivates me to double-down on my studies.

Independence takes on new meaning when home is 6,000 miles away. While I’m at Hendrix, my parents live less than an hour from campus, close enough to help me with any problems and offer advice rooted in their own American college experiences. Here, they can’t help me set up a Japanese bank account or navigate procedures at my city hall. When challenges arise, I figure them out myself.

It is a big leap to move to a country where everything operates differently: language, culture, customs, systems. But people adapt faster than we may initially expect. After just a month, I’d established my routine, and what once felt overwhelming became manageable. The juggling act of new schedules and unfamiliar procedures gave way to comfortable patterns.

These problem-solving skills have value beyond practical survival. I’ve grown more patient, more adaptable. Living where I can’t speak the language fluently has taught me to embrace uncertainty, to communicate creatively when words fail. That first month, my dorm felt like temporary lodging. But repetition breeds familiarity. Now it genuinely feels like home, complete with a fourth-floor balcony view of parks and distant buildings.

You can’t learn who you are by just staying comfortable. Growth requires leaving your bubble, experiencing different realities. If you never step outside familiar patterns, you’ll never discover what you’re capable of becoming. Japan has taught me things about myself that Arkansas never could. I’ve learned I thrive in peaceful, genuinely calm, environments. I’ve discovered Japanese cuisine extends far beyond ramen and udon—the variety and quality are remarkable. Most importantly, I’ve learned to pause before judging unfamiliar practices, to ask “why” instead of just comparing things to American norms.

The language barrier itself has become a teacher. Japanese people respond completely differently when I speak their language versus English. Even fragmented Japanese can make them brighten up and show genuine smiles of appreciation. It seems to be more important to meet people where they are, rather than worry about perfection. That lesson extends beyond language to all cross-cultural interaction.

What strikes me most is how internationally minded the Japanese students that I’ve met are, compared to back home. They casually mention middle school trips they took to Thailand or high school exchanges in Europe. In my hometown, even traveling abroad during high school would be unusual for most people. Maybe that’s why American perspectives can be more limited: fewer opportunities to expand the bubble besides trips to Canada or Mexico.

Tokyo itself offers more than just Japanese culture. Last weekend, my friends and I ate at an Indonesian restaurant. The city teems with Asian culture and cuisine, like Thai and Malaysian, which I would not encounter back in Arkansas. I’m not just learning about Japan but rather sampling a broader Asian experience.

This exchange has balanced my technical training with a humanistic perspective. The critical thinking and communication skills emphasized in liberal arts complement my computer science foundation. Understanding broader impacts, considering multiple viewpoints: these will make me a better technologist. Looking ahead to a potential career in financial technology, the adaptability I’ve developed here—while solving problems independently in unfamiliar environments—is just the training I need. And having experience in Japan, one of the world’s major financial centers, is giving me insight into Asian markets that I believe will prove valuable.

I’ve learned that the heiwa I experience in Japan is not just an absence of conflict, but the presence of something that makes me feel content, even blissful. I find this to be pervasive in my daily life in Sagamihara, and I want to carry this feeling forward in my future.