Many people looked toward the beach towns west of Yokosuka to live; for example, Hayama, Zushi, and Kamakura, which were all nice places to be, particularly in the summertime when the beaches all became lined with those types of bars where you drank with sand underneath your feet. The rest of the year these towns were pretty sleepy and quiet, and so very attractive to some folks.

Not me. I was 25, like I said, so I wanted to be a little closer to the action. A little closer to the lights—I wanted to be right in the middle of them.

A realtor showed me around several places that rented out to U.S. Navy personnel. I liked some of them well enough. But when we got to the apartment in Kanazawa Bunko, it was a different story altogether. I just about lost my mind.

Before I walked inside, I knew the apartment hit some of the major bullet points on my list. It was a five-minute walk to a major train station, which was a busy stop—it gave me direct access to Tokyo, all other parts of Yokohama, and Yokosuka too, for work. As a side bonus, this also meant there was plenty going on right nearby, nightlife and so forth. So, already I was optimistic.

And then I walked into the place.

It was on the top floor of the building, with a balcony that looked out high over the town. The bedroom floor was tatami mats, and shoji (Japanese sliding doors) connected it to the living room and kitchen area. I was practically speechless as the realtor showed me around, speaking in choppy English, and the entire time I was just secretly wondering how long I needed to wait until I told her I wanted the place. Wouldn't it be weird if I said I wanted it right away? I mean, I was at least supposed to look around a little bit, and perhaps ask a few relevant questions? But, I could barely wait more than a few minutes.

Standing out on the balcony, I took in the view of the city, and in awe I came back inside, already imagining having people over. Or better yet, entertaining ladies I might meet at some point—having a drink together out on that balcony, and then stepping inside atop the tatami floor and into this grand apartment that would be all mine and nobody else's. The realtor saw the look on my face and fell quiet for a moment, as though she could see exactly what I was thinking.

It's amazing I've made it this far while still mostly dancing around this topic—that is, Japanese girls. Understand, during this time of my life I was 25 and single, so it doesn't take a rocket scientist to understand what I might be interested in, while in a foreign country, or anywhere else for that matter.

A lot of Navy guys become attached to Japanese girls, and it's no secret why. The Navy sends a lot of young, unattached guys to different parts of the world, and wherever these guys go, they generally will chase after whatever girls happen to be around. In Japan, the girls are Japanese. I'm glad we figured this out.

The realtor was looking at me, so I looked back at her, and I said very simply, drawing from the minimal amount of Japanese I'd learned thus far, koko (here) suki (like).

Sometimes you don't need to use a lot of words.

As if all that wasn't enough, she then showed me my parking spot, which was another crucial check box in my apartment search. Space is at much more of a premium in Japan, as I already said, and there are often times just not enough room for parking lots. Instead, on the ground floor of the apartment building was a gated area that held within a bunch of cars stacked like Tetris blocks. When I wanted my car, what I did was enter in a specific code, and then stand back in awe as the cars shifted and rearranged, and then my car would either descend from above, or rise from the ground. It really was sensational, and the icing on the cake at this point, as I was signing a lease a short time later. I couldn't sign it fast enough.

I moved in soon thereafter.

I met the movers at the empty apartment and was amazed at how each and every time they'd kick off their shoes upon entry, even while carrying heavy loads, without missing a beat. I thought maybe, okay, the one time in Japan you might be allowed to wear your shoes indoors is while carrying a heavy set of dresser drawers—but no, this is not true at all. The shoes get kicked off each and every time, regardless of what kind of load you are bearing.

The movers finished and I spent the rest of the day unpacking boxes. I barely made a dent in the amount of work I had to do by the time twilight crept into the sky. Even though I'd been working all day, I wasn't even close to being tired, and in fact it was quite the opposite. I took a shower, threw on some clothes, and with great anticipation I walked out into my new town, for the first time as a resident.

I had friends I could call, but for that first night at least, I purposefully went solo.

There really is nothing more exciting than going out in a new place, where you know absolutely no one, and they don't know you. It is an entirely fresh start—a clean slate.

During this time of my life, I enjoyed hitting the reset button every now and then. It's a fun thing to do, if you've never tried it.