If you pride yourself on being a global citizen, I recommend that you live by yourself for some time in a foreign land. It takes a special type of personality to forgo everything you know and build a new life somewhere else. But the rewards are immeasurable. I joined the Japan Exchange Teaching program for two years. Even though it was a mere two years, it had a disproportionately huge impact on the person I am today.

As Singapore has limited land, we tend to live with our parents until we get married and move out. So, my first time living alone was in Kumamoto. It was exhilarating having a whole apartment to myself and not having to account to anyone else. Being removed from family and friends induced loneliness, yet injected liberation. I miss hanging out at the city area till late at night and then cycling back to my apartment. I miss bringing my luggage to work so that I could catch a bus bound for Fukuoka and kickstart my travelling plans on Friday evening. I miss being alone at my apartment, soaked in the gloriousness of solitude.

I learnt to enjoy my own company and find things to occupy my time, which I think brings me incredible clarity in an age of megawatt speed.

2. You get shit done My command of Japanese was rudimentary at best when I headed over to Kumamoto. I was too proud to ask anyone for help then, so I lumbered towards the handphone store to sign up for a new contract. It took me a grand total of two hours, and I pity the staff who had to make sense of my clumsy Japanese and obscure gestures, but I DID IT. I walked away from the store, with a new phone and contract in tow. Another example would be my supervisor and principal going through my work review. At first, I was sitting there in disbelief, incredulous at how I was expected to discuss my performance in a language not my own. But hey, I understood most things that were said. To date, I still remember the one line I contributed to the discussion: I know your feedback is aimed towards me improving as a teacher. I feel immensely gratified that I could complete a pivotal milestone at the workplace in Japanese. If I can do this, surely most things are within my grasp.

I learnt that when push comes to shove, my instincts will kick in - and I have the ability to emerge unscathed on the other side.

Back in Singapore, I was just one Chinese dude that represented the majority race. But in Kumamoto, I elevated to be a rare gem - a bilingual person who could speak English and Mandarin and straddle both the Western world and the Eastern world. I was asked to conduct a lesson for Japanese homeroom teachers and foreigners entirely in Mandarin so that they could understand how Japanese children and teenagers felt when learning English. I never expected to survive one hour getting an audience to recite 1-10 in Chinese, much less singing the chorus of an evergreen hit song. I remember feeling the jitters at first, but my “students” were so enthusiastic that I fed off their energy and delivered my best. I can conjure the rapturous applause I received at the end in my mind - anytime!

I learnt that my heritage makes me unique even if I don’t think so.

We think of Japan as this super disciplined society, so I was surprised when primary school boys came to school with long hair touching the collars of their clothes, without having anyone raise a ruckus. Well, back in my home country, the ‘offending’ boys would have been hauled to the discipline master for a severe talking-to. Another thing that amazed me was how kids were entrusted to form human pyramids during Sports Day. At least, for my junior high school, it was customary for all male ninth graders to partake in the formation of a human pyramid. Can you imagine a 10-storey pyramid forming before your eyes within minutes? I used to stare agape at this phenomenon. This would never happen in Singapore due to safety reasons.

I learnt that the Singaporean way is only but one of the ways of living. And that I have been conditioned by my society to not keep an open mind.

Japan is a largely homogeneous nation, but ironically, it helped me meet people from a multitude of nations. Having my own apartment helped because it allowed me to join Couchsurfing and host people when they visited Kumamoto. It also enabled me to stay at people’s houses when I travelled to other prefectures. I used to ask my guests to pen something on postcards and paste them on my wall. At one point in time, I had English, Mandarin, Japanese, South Korean, Spanish, Russian, Italian and French postcards adorning my wall! Singapore may be cosmopolitan but it doesn’t afford me the opportunity to be acquainted with these world wanderers. Meeting them has broadened my horizons and unleaded first-hand cultural insights. I even managed to further my friendship with some of them by staying with them in their home countries.

I learnt that Japan was a good place to enhance my cultural acumen because people from all over the world came to explore it to fulfill their wanderlust regarding this fascinating country.

Japanese textbooks make the distinction between the tatemae (the feelings one reveals to others) and honne (how one really feels and reveals to his closest ones). That actually didn't bother me much. I mean, sometimes I knew that my Japanese colleagues were saying things out of courtesy and that we were just following the prescribed conversational norms rather than interact authentically. But because I felt that they did so out of consideration for me, I never felt that they were being fake. The weather, however, was a different story. It got under my skin more than I had expected. I absolutely dislike Japan's weather. During the rainy season, it rains the whole day. During summer, it is blisteringly hot. During winter, I feel like the cold winds are stabbing my heavy heart. And I lived in Kumamoto, where the weather was considered milder than other parts of Japan. I can't imagine myself living somewhere with heavy snowfall!

I learnt that something as basic as the weather could have a huge impact on my mood. I miss the four seasons in Japan, but I think Singapore's predictably hot and humid weather allows me to function better (read: duck into an air-conditioned shopping mall).

The environment we're living in shapes us, as much as we like to think of ourselves as sovereign individuals. But when I lived in Japan, far removed from everything I was familiar with, I had the time and space to think about what truly makes Sensei? What rocks my boat? What values ground my inner core? Back in my home country, I did certain things, but I didn't quite know whether it was because I believed in them or because the societal norms exerted pressure on me to do so and be seen as professional. Living alone stripped me of all cultural expectations. Take for instance homework. I wasn't expected to give my students homework. But I dished out simple assignments during my first year because I believed in the value of constant reinforcement.

Living in Japan served as a mirror for me to examine my behaviour and motivations. What would I still have insisted on doing, even though no one else expected me to do so?

Immersing yourself in a foreign land is the best way to find out things for yourself and see how your observations compare to conventional wisdom. The writers of cultural guides who claim that the Japanese are polite and reserved probably have never spent time with them at a karaoke lounge. I accompanied my colleagues for karaoke a couple of times and discovered that they are far from being the stoic and uptight people the world has unfairly accused them to be. Boy, do the Japanese sing in unison and have an uproariously good time! And because I got attached to a Japanese lady, I became acquainted with Japanese dating norms. You aren’t really officially a couple until both of you discuss it and say “Yoroshiku onegaishimasu” (Please look after me) to jumpstart the relationship. Because my girlfriend was afraid of her family’s reactions, I was first introduced to her mother. After I gained her mother’s approval, I then met her parents at an Izakaya. Subsequently, after her father seemed to like me (because of my stellar drinking prowess), I was finally unveiled to her grandmother. I sure felt how hierarchical some Japanese families can be!

I learnt the multifaceted nature of reality. Just because things turn out in one way for some people doesn’t mean that it has to unfold similarly for me.

Honestly, even Japan loses its allure and lustre after a while. Since I worked as an Assistant Language Teacher, which meant that I couldn’t be entrusted to teach my classes alone, I faced little motivation to stretch my potential at work. Although I found my job boring, I didn’t find my life boring. I looked forward to going to school every day because I knew that I would definitely learn something new - be it a kanji character I chanced upon in a student’s work or a cultural insight explained to me by a colleague. And who can forget the holidays? Japan actually has one of the most number of public holidays in the world. I explored the entire of Shikoku during the Golden Week holiday. I even found time to travel to Busan via a ferry on a 3-day holiday. Towards the end of my stay, I kept reminding myself that I had to cherish these mundane work days because I wouldn’t have such opportunities to learn from my everyday surroundings in the future.

I learnt more about Japan’s quirks and beauties and everything else in between.

Suffice it to say that you will leave the foreign land a different person from the one you entered it. Whether I like it or not, I accept that the Japanese sets the bar high in many aspects of life. And once I have been exposed to such stunning standards of professionalism, I cannot in all good conscience revert to the Sensei I once was. Case in point: farewell messages. I don’t know about your home country, but in Japan, it seems customary for the homeroom teacher to take a photo of every student in his class and pair it with a heartfelt thank-you message. The long-suffering teacher will then compile all messages and photos in a book and gift it to me - with a lovely bow keeping all the appreciative sentiments together. It was hard not to feel overwhelmed by such a grand display, especially when I worked alongside them and knew just how busy they were. So, these days, I always thank the initiative to get my students to write thank-you messages to their teacher. I just paste them on A3 sheets of paper, but I have made many a colleague happy with my unexpected gesture.

I learnt to synthesise the best ways of living from my home country and Japan to accentuate the unique brand that is Sensei!

I hope this resonates with people who have lived abroad and inspires others who are wavering whether they should step out of their comfort zone. In guess you haven’t gotten my message, my response is: YOU SHOULD!