I moved to rural Japan for work. The reality of office culture pushed me back to London.

In my early 20s, I moved my life from the bustling metropolis of London to a quiet, scenic town in the mountains of Japan.

I had been offered a job as an English teacher in a high school, and I was eager to take advantage of what I imagined would be a quieter life, daydreaming about slow afternoons meandering through rice paddies.

I expected to be tripped up by unfamiliar food and a complex language.

What I hadn’t expected, however, was just how different — and difficult — a new working culture When I first arrived, it seemed like every day a smiling colleague thrust a small, individually wrapped cookie into my hand.

I couldn’t understand why this was happening, so one day I tapped someone on the shoulder and, pointing sheepishly at the plastic-covered pancake on my desk, asked what it was for.

My coworker explained that if you took time off, you were expected to return with snacks for the office, something between an expression of gratitude and an apology.

He picked up the pancake and pointed at the colleague who gave it to me. “He had to go to a funeral last week,” he said, gruffly.

I took stock of the number of people in the room; there were around 40 of us. “For everyone?” I asked.

Very expensive!” he said, chuckling.

At first, I found the practice oddly charming, but it didn’t take long for the novelty to wear off.

Every trip I went on was ever-so-slightly soured by the fact that, at the end of it, I knew I would have to lug gifts back for our 40-person office.

I began to mourn the plastic waste and the money spent.

I wished I could opt out of the whole thing, tell everyone that from then on, they could bring back 39 cookies and count me out.

On my first day, I had a meeting with my supervisor.

He handed me a contract and noted that I got 20 days of vacation.

A little less than the 25 I got in the UK, but manageable, I thought.

My supervisor saw me nod and said, “I would save 10 of those for sick days if I were you.

If you use it all up and then get sick, it will get taken as unpaid leave.” I balked at the suggestion. “Is there no sick leave?” I asked.

He explained that while sick leave technically existed, a hospital trip was required to secure it.

Sure enough, I was struck down with illness three months into the job.

After taking two weeks off, I was dismayed to find that my annual leave had been reduced by half.

Teachers in Japan are still required to work during the school holidays, even though there is little for them to do.

During those long periods, I began to notice that, even with no children to teach, none of my colleagues seemed to be taking any time off.

I brought this up once to a fellow teacher, and the office leave book was promptly plonked on my desk.

He flipped through to his leave record and pointed at all the days he hadn’t used: 120 in total. “They won’t even let me accrue any more,” he said. “I haven’t taken a day off in six years.” It wasn’t just taking time off that felt different: it was the working day itself.

I would watch other teachers work 12-hour days, running clubs that met every day after school.

I felt a need to match their efforts; I didn’t want to seem like a slacker.

After a while, I started to work overtime even when there was no real need, to avoid being the only teacher leaving at 5 p.m.

After a stretch of working from 8 a.m to 6 p.m, one teacher took me aside and told me how well I had been fitting in recently.

I worked in Japan for a year before moving back to London.

I didn’t leave because anything was broken or wrong.

The system worked, and it was coherent, with its own logic and expectations.

Over time, however, I realized that I was operating from a different set of assumptions about work, rest, and obligations.

I came to understand that it wasn’t Japan’s office culture that was the problem.

I was just far more shaped by a British idea of work-life balance than I had recognized before.

The experience taught me how deeply cultural norms shape what we consider sustainable, and how difficult it is to unlearn them once internalized.

While I look back on my job in Japan fondly, I now know that when it comes to office culture, London works for me.

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