American Homecoming — Reverse Culture Shock and the Race to Survive

My heartstrings to Japan are not easily severed. The grey in my beard bears witness to the passing seasons — a quiet metaphor for how both my adopted country and I continue to evolve. The early ’90s were very welcoming. Just like my ventures across Europe, locals found me a curious figure and many wanted to chat. My American passport once served as an instant credential, marking me as someone they could trust. Japan is different now — as am I — in ways both subtle and overt. Long known as a cash‑and‑go country, it now runs on plastic and QR codes, even at convenience stores. Not long ago, travelers routinely scrambled for ATMs, and only a fraction would accept foreign cards, landing me in a predictable bind too many times. This recent shift is a welcome relief. Speaking of convenience stores, many are now staffed by non‑Japanese workers, practically unheard of before the Covid shutdown. They appear to be Southeast Asian and wear a cultural uniform that doesn’t always fit. I am told t...