Roasted Barnacles and Healing Baths in Rural Niigata, Japan

Today, my neighbors rang my doorbell and gave me juicy, softball-sized Japanese pears. Yesterday, my wife left burdock roots at their door. A week ago, I received golden orange persimmons from a farmer as I biked past his orchard.

In Japan, giving gifts is customary among both strangers and friends. This sense of community is one reason—of many—why I relocated to rural Niigata, a prefecture (essentially a county) nestled in central Japan’s coastline. Here, I don’t feel nervous talking to strangers or walking late at night, and I’ve learned firsthand that Japanese folks are both trustworthy and helpful.

My wife and I are professional language teachers. Before arriving in Japan, I had taught in the U.S., Thailand, and South Korea. My plan was to hop from country to country every few years, but because of the decent pay, long vacations, opportunities for advancement, and safety, I stayed… for almost three decades now.

My wife, a native of Japan, and I live in a comfortable two-story house with three large bedrooms, two traditional Japanese rooms with tatami (straw mat) flooring, a spacious living room, two bathrooms, and a kitchen. A dozen trees surround my home, and I grow herbs and vegetables in my modest backyard. A comparable home in my hometown of San Francisco would rent for at least $5,000. But all this rings in for about 80,000 yen ($600) in monthly rent… typical for Japanese homes outside of big cities.

Each spring, my wife and I walk twenty yards from our home to the local park, where we picnic with neighbors under the pink and white cherry blossoms. In winter, we build yuki daruma (Japanese two-balled snowmen) and play on sleds. Every summer we join the community festival for public karaoke and festival foods. Food stalls offer sizzling yakitori (chicken skewers), steamy baked popoyaki (a Niigata pastry), fizzy beer, and local sake.

Food—as you’ll have gathered from that mouthwatering lineup—is a crucial part of Japanese culture. Globetrotters may know that UNESCO included washoku (traditional Japanese food) on its Intangible Cultural Heritage List.

But you may not be familiar with the Japanese philosophy of ikigai, which teaches the importance of finding and embracing one’s joy in life.

You’ll find evidence of ikigai in the most unexpected places… as I certainly have. While sipping some of the best espressos I’d ever tasted in a small Niigata cafe, I noticed first-place trophies from European barista contests on the shelves. I learned that the barista, now a close friend, followed his ikigai to open this tiny coffee shop for like-minded individuals who savor analogue jazz albums and the high-quality coffee he roasts, grinds, and prepares with near-religious devotion.

I constantly meet gourmet chefs in pursuit of their igikai in obscure cafes, restaurants, and inns. Many use local ingredients to create dishes that are rarely, if ever, served outside their region. For instance, the chef at a small inn in Aomor stuffed Aomori-grown apples with scallop gratin, prepared with locally farmed scallops, and baked them. A cook specializing in ancient northern Japan’s dishes introduced me to roasted barnacles. (The soft inner flesh tastes like lobster meat!) A tea grower on the island of Kyushu introduced me to the tasty pleasure of eating spent gyokuro leaves with rock salt.

Then again, there have been some strange dishes I was glad to try but won’t again. For instance: sliced sea cucumber mixed with ice cream.

Although many young Japanese have adopted Western fast food eating habits, healthy dishes made with fresh vegetables and small portions of seafood or meat are part of Japan’s holistic approach to health. And that approach extends past the dinner table… all the way to the doctor’s office.

I’ve had my own run-in with Japan’s advanced medical treatment. Eight years ago, local doctors discovered stage 4 tumors in my throat and neck. I recovered, thanks to Japan’s top-notch radiotherapy. Here, the government invests heavily in medical research, and because doctors are plentiful in the countryside, I was able to get recommended tests day-of.

National health insurance is outrageously affordable in comparison to the U.S. Health insurance costs vary according to household size and the previous year’s income. Newcomers to Japan can expect to pay between three to seven hundred dollars the first year… a price well worth the superb medical treatment.

I never feared losing my savings because deductibles for treatments, including chemotherapy, radiotherapy, consultations, and all medications never exceeded $700 monthly. And because of Japan’s emphasis on wellness, patients aren’t quickly discharged from hospitals… so I could rest and recuperate in comfort.

During hospitalization and recuperation, the local community kept me positive. A family in my neighborhood took my dog into their home for several months. And my employer paid my full salary for one year while I had no job duties for six months and limited duties for the second half.

Now I use my new lease on life to pursue igikai by enjoying the outdoors and indulging in stress-melting onsen, or hot spring baths. I’ve soaked in baths on streambanks, healing baths of hot mineral-laden mud, outdoor baths perched on mountainsides with almost endless views of forests and valleys, baths infused with aromatic herbs and citrus fruits, steamy baths surrounded by snowbanks, and baths on islands with views of stunning sunsets.

But the one that takes the cake is located at the remote Kawarage Oyutaki Falls in Akita, Japan… where I relaxed in a rocky pool at the base of a steaming waterfall.

Occasionally, I turn from indulgence to altruism. My wife and I volunteer with the bear team at the Picchio Wildlife Research Center in Karuizawa, Nagano. Our responsibilities include assisting bear researchers in rescuing Japanese black bears that have stepped into snares meant for deer and boar near remote farms and towns. We touched and weighed the bears—after they were tranquilized by experts!—and assisted with radio tracking the locations of collared bears. We also enjoyed tours to see flying squirrels and other local animals. Rich in wild flora and fauna, Karuizawa continues to amaze me.

I’ll give up teaching at the end of this school year. My wife and I are considering fixing up a home in the countryside, or renting. Either way, we know it won’t cost much. Japan’s population is in decline, and younger generations prefer urban dwelling to the rural living I favor. As a result, about 15% of Japanese homes are empty… and prices for countryside homes are shockingly low.

Nowadays, numerous expats are buying and fixing up old homes for residences or repurposing them as restaurants or boutique hotels. As a foreigner you certainly won’t be alone in cities like Tokyo, Osaka, and other main cities, where expats are a dime a dozen. And running into small communities in rural areas is becoming more common, too. Skilled workers from North America, Europe, and Oceania can acquire short-and long-term visas fairly easily. Check the homepage of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs for Japan for specifics.

A British expat friend purchased a home complete with a rice field, bamboo grove, and fruit orchard for about $5,000 in a community shared by Japanese residents and expats alike. Though the house required lots of work, he found it rewarding… and his neighbors helped him. Today, his chickens provide meat and eggs, his garden produces fresh vegetables, and his neighbors share produce from their own backyards.

As a result, he says he’s happier than ever.

I feel the same way. Sometimes people ask me when I will return to the U.S. Though I love my home country, when I compare the cost of living, the healthcare, and above all, the sense of community with what I experience now, I find I’m not in any hurry to return…

I’ll be here for a while longer… in pursuit of my igikai.