From Screen to Reality: I Carried A Piece, Yet Received The Whole

Shafiyyah Hasna Rahman (INA Asia Kakehashi Project+ to Japan 2025)

If someone had told me years ago that the places I admired only through screens — anime scenes, Instagram photos, Pinterest ideas — would one day become part of my everyday life, I wouldn’t have believed them. Back then, Japan was something distant, far beyond my reach, almost fictional. But now, it is the very place where I wake up, go to school, take the subway, and hang out with friends. It feels surreal that sometimes I still think I am dreaming.

When I first stepped my feet in Fukuoka, Japan, I asked myself:

Can I survive?

Could I adapt to a new environment?

Would people here accept me?

At first, I tried to began by sharing Indonesian culture in every way I could: presenting Indonesia in front of more than sixty people while performing the Mappadendang dance, letting my friends try batik and kebaya, giving out batik pencils on Batik Day, sharing Indonesian rupiah with my classmates, drawing a famous Indonesian traditional shadow puppet character, Srikandi while holding sakura flowers (still in progress), playing Indonesian folk song Gundul-gundul Pacul in koto (Japanese traditional music instrument), and handwriting more than eighty Japanese name cards in the Hanacaraka and Kawi scripts. Many nights I stayed awake until two in the morning just to finish them, yet the genuine smile I got made all the exhaustion vanish quickly.

I then found myself enjoying the koto club and the sadou (Japanese tea ceremony) club at school. At the beginning, I was so nervous, but soon I became comfortable because my friends at the club patiently guided me with enthusiasm, step by step. There are also special classes that I had never imagined experiencing: shodo class or Japanese calligraphy, a yukata (Japanese traditional attire) sewing class where I stitched my own yukata and later wore it proudly in a tatami room — it made me feel like a character in Demon Slayer, to be honest — , and cooking classes that felt like a real culinary course.

There are many times I have made mistakes and faced misunderstandings because of the language barrier. Yet, my friends and teachers always respond with understanding and help me to overcome the situation. One teacher even offered her office so I could pray during lunch breaks. And whenever I hang out with friends to eat, like yakisoba or shabu-shabu, they always ask carefully about what I can and cannot eat. They even chose to avoid pork entirely just to respect me. These actions may seem simple to them, but to me, they are true examples of genuine tolerance that mean the world to me.

Here, I live in a dorm, but once every month during school breaks, I stay with my host family. Our time together was not long, still every moment felt meaningful. They took me to waterfalls, to the aquarium, to beautiful places like Sakurai Futamigaura — a place where the two stone standing at the back of a white gate among the beautiful beach that used to exist only on my phone wallpaper — and many other great spots. One of the most unforgettable moments was when we celebrated my birthday. We sat around the table, shared dinner, and I received presents wrapped with warmth. I thought I was already lucky just to experience a birthday in Japan, but I was far luckier because I celebrated it with a family who truly cared for me.

In the dorm, I have five wonderful dorm mothers. They are always ready to listen to all my stories and worries with endless patience and gentleness. Some even invited me to join their family trips. Thanks to them, I can witness the breathtaking views of 123 meters above the land in Fukuoka Tower, I can ride a ten-minute boat to Nokonoshima Island, then experience kusatori (weeding grass) — a Japanese activity to take care of the environment — , watch a drama musical show in elementary school, and spend the day in fields full of blooming cosmos. I can also watch the beautiful sunset on top of a hill in the Atago Shrine area. I am feeling as if I were walking inside a lot of postcards. On top of that, one of the dorm mothers with her family took me to a bookstore, asked me to choose my favorite books, and gave them to me as a present.

Beyond that, AFS volunteers made my experience whole. They taught me how to navigate Fukuoka’s Chikatetsu (underground train), which allowed me to visit more than twenty shrines: Dazaifu Tenmangu Shrine, Kamado Shrine (yes, the Shrine that is expected as the name of a famous anime character, Kamado Tanjiro), and many more. They took me to sports festivals, art musical shows, Japanese traditional dance performances, taiko (Japanese traditional drum) performances, Peace Park in Nagasaki, and a visit to a university in Oita. They also treated me most delicious sushi and udon I ever ate. One volunteer even invited me to her apartment to teach me the Japanese tea ceremony privately.

I do not know what to say except that I am so grateful to have so many caring people around me. I never expected that Fukuoka — a name far quieter than Tokyo, Kyoto, or Osaka — would become the place where the people made me feel everything, completely.

And now, as I begin packing my things, trying to fit every memory into a suitcase, I once again ask myself:

Can I survive?

But this time the question hits differently. It is no longer “Can I survive in Japan?”

But “Can I survive without it?”

Without Fukuoka, the place where the people whose kindness made me feel like a home and not a foreign land. The place that made me realize: leaving home is much more heavier than I thought.

Japan has taught me something priceless: dreams often begin as simple things like wishes, screenshots, photos saved in a folder, or as screen wallpaper, but when we dare to carry even a small piece of ourselves into the world, the world often gives us something much bigger in return.

I brought a piece of Indonesia, a piece of myself, a piece of my homeland. And even though my exchange period lasted no more than 3.5 months, Japan gave me a whole new family, a whole new home, and a whole new understanding of how extraordinary kindness can be. I am sure that someday, when I look back at all these precious moments, I will remember how that small piece I brought grew into something whole and incredible.

To everyone I met here, I would like to say thank you. Thank you for your kindness, thank you for your time and hard work, thank you for choosing to make the world a better place.

Thank you so much for everything.

Because of all of the sincere generosity I received, my experience as an exchange student is truly beyond words. I won’t forget this for the rest of my life. These memories are irreplaceable treasures.

And yes, indeed. Exchange really has its magic:

You give a little, you get a universe.