How to wrap this up? Well, my secret is out now:

I love Japan not for the anime, video games, or electronics; and not really for any traditional or cultural reasons, either. Instead, I love Japan for the hotbed of jambands, reggae, and funk that I found in Yokohama; it was laid down thick and heavy amidst a series of stellar bars attended by hilarious and outgoing people. Who saw that one coming? Not me, that's for sure. If you travel around a little bit, you never know what you might find.

But there is an even better answer for why I love Japan, this one a bit closer to the heart: I love Japan because of the thousand different times that people opened up their door to me and invited me in. There were masters that could always find me a seat, new friends and smiling faces that welcomed me to the party, and even that one convenience store employee who went out of his way to help a stranger find their way home. All these little things add up, man! Oh yeah, not to mention my wife, and her family, both of whom warmly embraced me and welcomed me into the family, forever changing my life and forever linking me with their great country and people. So there was that, too.

I could still go on, though. There is one more reason why I love Japan. This one may sound kind of selfish, but it wouldn't be right if I didn't mention, because it is true: I love Japan because of the way I feel when I am there.

I feel a certain way, with that atmosphere and ambience around me, as I'm moving about, to new and interesting places, meeting new people, and trying new kinds of food and drink. On the most basic level, that is it. I feel awesome when I am there, doing these things, like it gives me a new kind of life and energy that I'm normally lacking.

Note that the above paragraph is quite general, and it need not apply to Japan. So, that leads to the next bit:

This book is secretly not totally about Japan. Well, it is in a micro sense, but not in the macro. Let me explain further.

Prior to moving back to Japan, I had been in a serious rut—only I didn't know it. I spent my off-work time watching the same Simpsons reruns I'd already seen a million times. On the weekends I was forcing myself to go out to bars that I often wasn't really interested in. I was bored out of my mind and didn't even realize it. Why? Those Simpsons reruns were legitimately great, sure, but I could practically recite them. If I walked into a bar, I already knew what was on the menu. I knew which bar had a good burger, and I knew which one had good wings, and so on. I already knew what sports were on TV. I knew it too well. I already knew a receiver needed one foot down in college, but both feet down in the NFL, and that right after a turnover you should call a deep ball, and really go for the kill. I know this stuff too well, because I'd seen it all a million times.

Perhaps this is why the prospect of moving to Japan elicited such a reaction from me, as I was jumping around my apartment like I just won the Super Bowl.

If I turn on the TV in Japan, the expression on my face becomes mystified as I try to comprehend what I'm seeing. If I walk into a bar in Japan, well, chances are that I can't even read the menu, but even if someone explains it to me, what I'm ordering still might be an intriguing mystery. As for sports, I have no idea which teams were good, which ones have heated rivalries, and why all the fans started with a particular chant at a very particular time. I'd have a million questions. Figuring it all out is fun and exciting, and an endless hobby for me. Plus, it is a life goal to defeat the American stereotype and to become fluent in a foreign language. Stop laughing—I can dream, can't I? Being away from Japan hasn't helped these efforts, but, as suggested by the title of this book, I do intend to go back. Just as soon as I can.

This has all served to break me straight out of the rut I was in, see? I needed something new—in this case, it was a new hemisphere. I went to Japan, and it was like I woke up.

But, it didn't have to be Japan. It could have been another country. I mean, I'd argue that Japan is as good a host as any, because the people in general were so friendly and welcoming—which I will forever appreciate. But it could have been another country, had I been sent there instead. Well, assuming there wasn't a war going on.

Sometimes I think what my life would be like if I'd never gone to Japan, and I can't really imagine it. I'd never have met my wife, for one. Furthermore, I strongly fear that I might still be in that same rut, perhaps still planted firmly on my couch, still watching the same Simpsons episodes over and over again. Well, by now it might be Family Guy, but still, you get the idea.

I still watch both of those shows, by the way—and football, too. I watch it constantly and it will forever be my favorite sport. If I ever stop watching football, then I'll have officially taken things too far, and I would request that someone please come and punch me in the face. But I don't think that would ever happen—I'm still the same guy. It's just that now I have all these other things in my life that I'm passionate about, too.

So, this is my ultimate point:

Regardless of your age, if you feel a rut similar to the one I was in, then find the opportunity, and take the plunge. Jump off the veranda at Kiyomizu-dera, as they say. Whether it is overseas duty through your branch of the military, an international assignment through your employer, or a study abroad program through your school—if you have the opportunity, then do it. Go to a new country. But don't just visit—live there. You might just find what you didn't even know you'd been looking for.

If you don't go, then five or ten years later, whatever reasons you had for not going will likely seem inconsequential and weak, whereas the potential upside of your trip—everlasting memories, a fresh perspective, and maybe a new passion—will stick with you the rest of your life.

So just go already. Find your Japan. I'm going back to mine, just as soon as I can.

A little help, please?