By ; Ali Syarief
This year marks my 31st visit to Japan. For most people, that number might seem excessive for returning to the same country. But for me, Japan is no longer just a travel destination. It has become part of my life journey—a place that now feels like a furusato (ふるさと), a second home of the heart.
Yes, I’ve seen Mount Fuji in all its majestic glory, strolled through the historic streets of Asakusa, and laughed like a child at Tokyo Disneyland. Those places are iconic, beautiful, and memorable. But once is enough. What keeps drawing me back is not the landmarks—but the people.
Each of my trips has been part of a cross-cultural exchange program with the Cross Culture Institute. This is not your typical tourist package. It’s an immersive experience that touches the soul. We stay with nihon no katei (日本の家庭)—Japanese host families. We sleep under the same roof, wake up together, eat gohan (ご飯) at the same table, and share laughter, conversations, even silences. The intimacy is real. The bonds are deep.
Over time, I’ve found a new kazoku (家族) in Japan—families who treat me not as a guest, but as part of their lives. I’ve made lasting friendships with Japanese tomodachi (友達) who are always there, ready to share, listen, and laugh. These are the moments that linger, far beyond the snapshots of famous places.
What makes this experience unique is how we learn Japanese culture not in a classroom, but in everyday life. We practice sadō (茶道 – the Way of Tea), try our hands at bento making, learn the art of ikebana (生け花), or fold origami (折り紙) with children. We reflect on wa (和), the Japanese sense of harmony, and understand the deep values of respect, humility, and community that underpin daily life.
Surprisingly, language has never been a barrier. Even without perfect fluency, we communicate—with gestures, smiles, shared experiences, and the sincerity that transcends words. As for the so-called cultural gap, it never feels like a wall. In fact, it becomes a bridge—an invitation to grow, to understand, to connect.
That’s why I keep coming back. Not because Japan is beautiful—though it truly is—but because in Japan, I feel welcomed. I feel transformed. I feel that in a world of differences, kokoro (心)—the heart—remains the same.
I’m not just traveling. I’m returning home.
