INTRODUCTION

“Five Years Later: Why I’m Finally Telling This Story”

It’s been five years since I studied in Canada as an international student — right in the middle of COVID lockdowns. A strange time to leave home, I know, but also the moment that transformed me more than anything else in my life.

Things might look different today, but the core experience remains the same:
studying abroad shapes you in ways you can’t predict.

I’m sharing this story for three kinds of people:

• those thinking about studying abroad
• those already in Canada, navigating a new life
• and those who returned home, dealing with that quiet ache of reverse-culture shock

This isn’t a guide or a list of tips.
It’s a collection of memories, struggles, and lessons — the moments that broke me open, the moments that rebuilt me, and the moments that helped me realize who I want to become.

This is how one year in Canada changed me — and how I found my way back to myself afterward.

HOW IT REALLY STARTED

“A Movie, A Pandemic, and a Sudden Decision”

Before I jump into the memories of Canada, there’s something important:
how I even got there.

I enrolled in a vocational program and completed a diploma in digital marketing. But honestly?
My main goal wasn’t just studying.

I wanted to experience diversity.
I wanted to use English every single day.
I wanted to feel uncomfortable — because that’s where growth happens.

During the pandemic, when offline business collapsed and digital work exploded, I realized:
digital skills weren’t optional anymore — they were essential.

Canada’s education system is structured around real-life projects, teamwork, and practical tasks. By the end of the program, we had to analyze real consumer behavior, build digital campaigns, and apply everything in an internship. It felt relevant to the world I was about to step into.

And yet, the true starting point wasn’t school.
It was a movie.

“The Intern” — The Spark

I can’t pinpoint the exact moment I became obsessed with traveling or learning English. But I do remember watching The Intern — and something inside me just… shifted. That movie pushed me out of my comfort zone in a way nothing else had.

I followed my intuition.
Booked a one-way ticket to Cebu.
And went to study English.

That decision became a huge turning point in my life.

For the first time ever, I spent entire days speaking only English.
It was frustrating.
Humbling.
And exactly what I needed.

Meeting people from all over the world, struggling through basic conversations, feeling lost — it made me want something bigger:
a life in a truly international environment.

So I made the next jump.

WHY CANADA

“Diversity, Openness, and Just the Right Timing”

That’s when Canada entered the picture.

I chose it because it’s one of the most immigrant-friendly countries in the world — incredibly diverse, open, and full of people who live as themselves. There’s this quiet welcoming energy where you feel like you belong, no matter where you’re from.

And you feel that diversity every day.

Canada is the 2nd largest country in the world, but its population (around 40 million in 2025) is surprisingly small.
You have vast landscapes — lakes, forests, mountains — and then you have multicultural cities like Vancouver and Toronto where 200+ languages echo through the streets.

It’s also bilingual, with English and French as official languages.
You see that blend everywhere — in signs, food, music, neighborhoods, and people.

And honestly, I got lucky.
I arrived right before the borders closed.

If my flight had been even one week later, I might not have made it in.
That detail still blows my mind.

DEPARTURE

“The Airport Line That Changed Everything”

I still remember lining up at the airport — excited, nervous, overwhelmed.

That’s when it hit me:
I wouldn’t see my family or friends for at least a year.

My heart was racing.
But deep down, I knew this was something I wanted — and needed — to do.

FIRST IMPRESSION

“Like Stepping Inside a Movie”

My first impression of Canada?
It honestly felt like stepping into an American movie.

The houses, the cars, the sidewalks, even the atmosphere — everything looked like scenes I’d only seen on screen growing up in Japan. The colors were softer, the space wider, the air quieter.

I never got bored of simply walking around.

EXPLORING FOR THE FIRST TIME

“Gastown, Nature, and the Beauty That Never Gets Old”

The day I arrived, I couldn’t wait.
I dropped my bags and started exploring.

First destination: Gastown in Vancouver.
Old brick streets.
Cozy cafés.
Artistic energy.
And of course — the steam clock.

It’s one of the first functioning steam clocks ever built, created in 1977 by Canadian clockmaker Raymond Saunders to cover a street steam vent. A few copies now exist around the world, but the original is here.

Canada also surprised me with something simple:
Nature. Everywhere.
Parks, ocean, mountains — all blended right into the city.

It felt unreal.

LOCKDOWN

“The World Stopped, and So Did My Life”

Then COVID hit.

Classes moved online.
My host family asked me not to go out.
The version of Canada I imagined — meeting people, exploring, living freely — disappeared overnight.

My only “friends”?
The characters from Friends the sitcom.

The American sitcom became the most consistent part of my life.
The realistic setting, the casual conversations, the humor—everything felt warm and oddly familiar. I watched every season at least ten times. I wrote down new vocabulary in a notebook, practiced phrases from scenes. And whenever I felt homesick or overwhelmed, Friends made me laugh again.

I watched every season more than ten times.
It taught me English.
It made me feel less alone.
It honestly carried me through the hardest days.

One day, I hope I can visit New York — just to walk around and see the iconic spots from the show.

MOVING OUT

“One Wooden House, Seven Strangers, and a Year I’ll Never Forget”

After months of isolation, I knew I needed change.
So I moved into a shared house — an old wooden Canadian-style home with seven roommates from all over the world.

One bathroom.
A tiny kitchen.
Endless memories.

Because everything was shut down — restaurants, bars, events — my housemates became my whole world. We had little parties, played games, helped each other with English, and had deep late-night talks. They supported me when learning English felt impossible and when life felt heavy.

That house became more than a home.
It became family.

EXPLORING AGAIN

“Victoria, Shooting Stars, and a Summer I Still Miss”

When restrictions eased, I finally explored again.

One of my favorite places was Victoria — a quiet, artistic island city, just a ferry ride away. We camped, watched shooting stars, and breathed fresh ocean air. Time slowed down.

And summer in Vancouver?
Perfect.
Dry air, clear skies, warm but not humid.
I still miss that feeling.

A MEMORABLE EXPERIENCE

“Weed, Awareness, and the Deepest Meditation of My Life”

One night, out of curiosity, I tried weed with my friends at the beach.
It didn’t hit me there — but walking home, it suddenly did.
The ground tilted.
My balance disappeared.

When I laughed, the world felt warm and golden.
When someone felt off, the world darkened — literally.

Another time, in our yard, the tree in front of me felt almost alive — colors brighter, air fresher, everything pristine. I sensed its essence, like it had a spirit.

Then something deeper happened:
I felt everything was connected — trees, walls, people — tied together by invisible threads.

I sat for hours in pure joy.
And ever since then, my meditation changed.
Even sober, I can go deeper now.

LOOKING BACK

“What Canada Really Taught Me”

Looking back, that year gave me everything — laughter, loneliness, discovery.

Before Canada, I was stuck in my bubble and unsure of my path. I played life safe.
But being abroad taught me the importance of being true to myself and embracing what makes me unique.

Being a student there wasn’t just about studying — it was about discovering who I am.

I’m grateful for how much that year shaped me into who I am today.

RETURNING HOME

“Reverse Culture Shock, Depression, and Finding My Way Back”

When I returned to Japan after a year abroad, the first few weeks were fun. I reconnected with old friends, ate the foods I’d missed, and finally relaxed after months of intense adaptation in Canada. But slowly, something else began to surface—something I couldn’t quite explain.

Conversations felt filtered.
Like everyone was holding back.
Like we were only talking on the surface level, never about how we really felt.

In Canada, my vocabulary was limited, so I had no choice but to speak simply and directly.
It was freeing.
People around me were open—talking about loneliness, struggles, failures, emotions. Nothing was off-limits. That honesty gave me the space to be honest too.

Because I speak Japanese fluently, suddenly I felt pressure to choose every word carefully. To read the room. To avoid offending anyone. I realized I was constantly regulating myself—tone, timing, content, everything.

And what hurt most was how some friends treated me differently after I returned.

If I talked about Canada, they’d brush it off.
If I sang English songs at karaoke, the room went quiet.
Their reactions made me feel… strange. Misplaced.
As if I had become someone “different”—someone who didn’t fully belong anymore.

Japan is my home. I LOVE JAPAN.
It’s one of the safest, most comfortable countries in the world, and I’m grateful for that.
But Japan is also a small, homogenous island where harmony is everything, and individuality is often quietly discouraged. “Not standing out” is seen as polite, respectable—even necessary.

The culture has beauty:
kindness, safety, order, respect, craftsmanship.
But the flip side is real too:
pressure to fit in, emotional distance, and a constant fear of being “too different.”

Meanwhile, in Canada, people were unfiltered and expressive—even if it sometimes came off as self-centered. They talked openly about personal struggles, mental health, frustrations, hopes. They said things directly. They let themselves be seen.

I didn’t have to pretend in front of them.
I didn’t have to calculate, adjust, or shrink myself.
I could just be me.

But back in Japan, the “switching” started.
Adjusting my personality depending on who I was with.
Watching my words.
Trying to match the atmosphere.

It was exhausting.

The two versions of me—Japan-me and Canada-me—kept drifting apart.
I held everything inside. I felt misunderstood. I felt mentally displaced.
Eventually, the pressure became too heavy to carry, and I was diagnosed with manic depression.

What helped me climb out wasn’t a dramatic breakthrough—it was small, gentle habits:
morning routines, meditation, yoga, grounding practices, support from friends, family, and old roommates. Slowly, I rebuilt the self I found in Canada—the one that felt real and true.

I learned I don’t need to be afraid of being different.
Being true to myself is what matters most.

And my morning yoga routine became essential for my mental health — grounding me every single day.

What I learned is simple:

Forcing myself to be someone I’m not is the fastest path to depression.
True ‘being’ comes from honesty — from embracing who I really am.

CLOSING REFLECTION

“If You’re Thinking About Studying Abroad…”

It wasn’t easy, but that year in Canada shaped me in ways I’m still grateful for.

Studying abroad makes you more self-aware and more well-rounded.
It exposes you to new cultures, new beliefs, new perspectives.
It forces you out of your comfort zone.
It teaches you adaptability, empathy, and courage.

These are lessons no classroom can teach.

So if you’re thinking about studying abroad — go.

It might challenge you, surprise you, even break you a little…
but you’ll come out understanding so much more —
about the world, and about yourself.