Contrary to many people's beliefs, I did not move to Japan only to train and compete in MMA. My parents always pestered me about the importance of school work and gaining skills which would support me in the future. Their wisdom rubbed off, and I could see that becoming a professional fighter would not pay the bills. In college I lived off the generous support of my father until I started doing mixed martial arts. Concerned for my safety, he disapproved of my fighting. Before I knew it, I was working at a bakery called Bruegger's Bagels from 5 AM to 9 AM every morning during my senior year.

When someone asks me why I chose "Japanese" as my major, I usually reply with, "I like it."

Rumina Sato poses with me before teaching Shooto at Cross Point Kichijouji.

Since I was little, I always thought people who could speak more than one language were awesome. I had an interest in the culture, so I dedicated myself to learning the language, hoping to someday get a job using it. To have speaking skills adequate to do a translating job, I heard from countless sources that one must not only study obsessively, but must live in Japan for five years or more. That is the main reason why I moved to Japan.

I've also always wanted to be a teacher. Unfortunately, in college I had to choose between a major in Education, or major in Japanese. I chose Japanese, and now rejoice at the opportunity I was offered to teach English in Japan without any official teaching certifications. Soon I will be a proud employee of Berlitz, Inc. thanks to the support of a Gary Hoogswerf, former head of the branch in Tachikawa. I ran into him at Smack Girl World Remix 2004 in Shizuoka, I as a competitor, and he as a spectator. We exchanged contact information. I later applied and was accepted a few months before graduation.

Thus began a story of luck, kindness, and hard work, which promises to be long and exciting. I had the fortune to meet Shu Hirata who attended the Abu Dhabi Submission Wrestling Championship on March 28th in Los Angeles, California. When I was stressed out trying to find housing and training locations in Japan, he gave me advice, guidance, and contact information for people who could help me once I arrived.

Little sticky rice balls, or "dango," are covered in sweat bean paste. Additional flavors like soy, sesame seeds, and green tea are added to the paste.

The summer before my move was filled with lots of driving back and forth across my home state of Massachusetts, visiting parents, friends, and my old dojos, not knowing where I really wanted to be the most. Finally in July I flew away from it all and arrived in Japan, burdened down like an ant with suitcases three times my body weight. An Australian man who helped me pull my gym bag onto the local train was the first out of many people who have helped me in Japan. I had a host mother who I lived with when I studied abroad from 2003 to 2004. She graciously put me up for a week and fed me while I searched for apartments.

Shu introduced me to the altruistic Mrs. Kitamura. She took it upon herself to drive hours from her home in Shinagawa to Atsugi, where my job was to be, to visit real estate agencies with me. My Japanese language level is intermediate, but without her simplified explanations, I would have drowned under the tidal waves of complicated Japanese customs.

Shu also introduced me to Ida, who took time out of his busy day to take me to various jiu-jitsu clubs in my area. Despite my stress from being uprooted, training at many new gyms has been a delightful experience. Since I didn't know my work schedule yet, I was reluctant to join a gym.

A entire fresh tuna is displayed next to pre-packaged portions of it in the supermarket.

My bank account was severely depleted from the initial payment of my Japanese apartment, so my old sensei Satoshi Kotani from Cross Point Paraestra in Kichijouji allowed me to return numerous times to his dojos in Shibuya and Kichijouji. In this way I managed to keep my sanity, which has been known to slowly depart if I don't train jiu-jitsu for more than two days.

I had the good fortune to visit Cross Point one time when Rumina Sato taught the Shooto class. The normal instructor, Naoya Uematsu, had gone to Brazil to compete in the Mundial Brazilian jiu-jitsu competition.

At the end of my first week, I had secured my apartment and began the Instructor Training course for my job. I had to commute an hour, and when I returned that night I returned to a big empty space. I lacked all household appliances. A one-room Japanese apartment comes with nothing but a toilet and a kitchen sink. Over the next few weeks I actually received gifts like a table, washing machine, stove, refrigerator, rice cooker, and microwave from the unlikely sources of my real estate agent, host mother, and friends already living in Japan. I could finally begin food shopping.

I love shopping for food. Unfortunately, the daytime "sales" are negligible, unless you go to the supermarket around closing time. The feeding frenzy begins around 9 PM when they mark down the meat and perishables to 50%. If I go at 9 there’s still ground beef and fried fish left in the cooler. It amuses me to see things like a whole tuna fish laying out on display. Sometimes there's a sample bin so buyers can taste the quality.

Three children from Children's English School in Tsurumi pose with me at the end of my first long day of teaching four and five year olds as a part time job.

Near the bread section, the grocery store makes dango, or sticky rice balls, and covers them in red bean paste called "anko", candied soy sauce, and green tea flavored anko. I became addicted to anko and not one day has gone by without me having it in some form or another.

Of course, buying food is fun if you have the money to do it. Japanese immigration wouldn't accept my letters and transcripts showing proof of my graduation from my University until I showed them my diploma. Therein lay the problem of late application. I had tried to apply early, but I just graduated and didn’t get the paperwork until a few weeks ago. Although I finished the job training course, I wasn't permitted to begin work unless I held the actual work-visa in my hand. I was told I'd have to wait three weeks for processing, which meant another three weeks without a paycheck. Desperate for cash, I signed up on ten different "find-an-English-teacher" websites, hoping to find private students to teach. I succeeded in finding two, and also taught a day at an English daycare center, which I hope to do again in the near future.

The latter was rewarding, if difficult. I love Japanese children unless they're throwing things and taunting me in Japanese, which I can understand. My latest part time job was sitting in at an English Cafe, where Japanese pay about ten dollars an hour to chat with a native English speaker over tea and cookies. Although profits are low, I am able to return home at night with a big bag of groceries and money for the train.

Japanese immigration finally accepted my application and I am another week away from my actual working visa. Then I can relax into a routine of teaching, training, and get back into shape to compete.

Vol. 02 >>