外から / 外人 · Stranger
05 — 外人 · gaijin · "person from outside"

Stranger

Gaijin literally means “outside person.” In 2019 I came here for an internship — a brief but real look from within; ever since, I’ve been taking the country apart from a distance and growing to love it. And I remain outside. This section is about why that’s right.

What I can

  • Read the system — transit, service, the logic of the city.
  • Respect the rules and keep the protocol of behaviour.
  • Taste the cuisine and understand why season matters more than recipe.
  • Fall silent at the right moment and not demand explanations.

What I never will

  • Grow up inside this — nursery, school, first job, a grandfather’s funeral.
  • Read the unspoken the way those born here read it.
  • Feel shame and obligation with the same weight that holds the whole system together.
  • Become “one of us” — not a guest who was welcomed, but part of the inner circle.

The boundary isn’t rejection

Japan politely keeps its distance, and at first that hurts. You’re served flawlessly, welcomed warmly, thanked — and left outside. I took that for coldness for a long time.

Then I understood: it isn’t coldness, it’s honesty. They don’t pretend I’ve been accepted as one of their own. They don’t lie about a closeness that isn’t there. Distance they don’t hide is a form of respect. False familiarity would be far worse.

Why I don’t want to “become Japanese”

There are foreigners who spend years trying to dissolve — dress like a local, erase the accent, vanish into the culture. That seems to me both impossible and unnecessary.

I look from — from outside. That isn’t weakness of position but its essence. An engineer who fell in love with a system he didn’t build sees what those inside don’t: the air a local breathes without noticing. My love works precisely because I remain a stranger.

What remains

What remains is the choice — the same one this site began with. Loving a country from inside is natural: it’s your home, you have no alternatives. Loving from outside is a decision you have to make again every day, with no default reciprocity.

I accept it again. Knowing the boundary. Not trying to cross it.

I was here once. I want to come back — and this time, not to leave so soon.

You can love from outside. Perhaps — only from outside can you see clearly enough to love for real.

外から · soto kara · end and beginning