An unforgettable birthday in Japan - freedom, beach and karaoke

My birthday in Japan - Part 1: In the morning at the language school

I'll be honest: I woke up a little tired. I had celebrated my birthday the night before - nothing wild, one or two beers - but it was still a bit noticeable this morning. Nevertheless, I had to get up because I had planned to be at a language school at 10.35am. A language school that is not for normal students, but for teachers in training. They train prospective Japanese teachers there, and as part of that they need real students to practise on. I had volunteered and today was my first day there.

I was a bit late and arrived five minutes late, but the atmosphere was relaxed straight away. The room was full of trainee teachers, all making their first attempts at teaching Japanese, and a couple of professors supervising the whole thing. My task was simple: I was supposed to take part in the lessons, pretend to be a normal language student and give feedback at the end.

And that was a cool experience.

Some of the teachers were still very unsure of themselves, which is normal when you're just starting out. Some of them got confused, some spoke too quickly or didn't explain things well. I listened attentively, took part in everything and made notes so that I could give feedback that was as helpful as possible later, but of course encouraging. And then came the moment when I was allowed to speak. I shared my thoughts on what was good, what could be improved - and I realised that people really appreciated that. Probably because, as a lecturer in Germany, I have a lot of experience with teaching myself and was therefore able to give relatively precise feedback.

I somehow enjoyed the whole thing and that was also reflected back to me. At the end, I was asked if I would come back next week. And of course I will. There is also a small reward: you get vouchers worth 12 euros, which you can redeem for food and drink in the convenience stores.

I was pleased because the whole thing was not only a nice experience, but also somehow meaningful. I realised that I could really help through my way of explaining things and that was a good feeling. And on my birthday. A nice start to the day.

But the day was far from over - next up was a trip to the beach.

Part 2: Spontaneously to the beach

After leaving the language school, I had a voucher in my hand and a free feeling in my head. I knew that I would use it to go to a Kombini (Japanese convenience store) and get something to eat, but what exactly I would do afterwards was still undecided.

I stepped outside and immediately noticed the weather: It was really pleasant. Sunny, warm, almost spring-like. I had my woollen jacket with me, but I knew right then that I would take it off straight away. I took a deep breath and realised how good this moment felt - almost like a little birthday present from Japan itself.

Then I had an idea: why not just spontaneously go to the beach?

There are several beaches in Fukuoka, but I hadn't been to any yet. I had no fixed plan, no time, no destination except: just sit down, think a bit and enjoy the day. That's exactly how my birthday could be.

Shopping for the perfect moment

But before I set off, I had to stock up on provisions. I went to the nearest Kombini and rummaged through the shelves until I found exactly what I was in the mood for:

A Japanese egg sandwich - these are extremely popular in the convenience stores here and really tasty too.

Macadamia chocolate with whole nuts in it - a little luxury, because macadamias are really expensive in Europe.

A strawberry soufflé that just smiled at me.

With my snacks in my bag, I suddenly realised I had a little problem: How do I eat the soufflé without cutlery?

I didn't want to just reach in with my fingers, so I quickly googled how to ask for a spoon in Japanese. Armed with the new vocabulary, I went back in, asked my question - and immediately got my spoon. A small victory, but somehow it felt good.

Off to the beach

Then we were off. I got on the bus, with half an hour's journey ahead of me. As I looked out of the window, Fukuoka passed me by - modern buildings, small restaurants, narrow streets full of people going about their daily lives. I sat back and just let myself drift.

When I arrived, the beach was exactly as I had hoped it would be: quiet, spacious, uncrowded. Maybe 30 to 50 people were there, scattered along the shore. I walked a few steps until I found the perfect spot - right on the edge, where the sand was still damp but not wet.

I put my jacket on the ground, took off my shoes and sat down. The sun warmed my back while I unpacked my food.

The egg sandwich? Perfect for my big appetite.

The strawberry soufflé? Sweet and fluffy.

The macadamia chocolate? A real treat.

I chewed slowly, gazing at the water and listening to the gentle waves rolling onto the shore. No big swell, just gentle movements. Far out on the horizon, I could see huge steamers travelling slowly through the water. Near me, children were playing in the sand, building castles, laughing.

I just sat there, taking it all in.

It was one of those moments when nothing else was needed. No mobile phone, no distractions, no thoughts about the future. Just me, the beach and the day, which was all about me.

Part 3: Thoughts on the beach

After enjoying my meal, I sat back, relaxed and watched the sea. The wind was mild, the sun warmed my back and I felt like I was in the right place at the right time.

I put on my headphones - not to shut myself off from the world, but to get a little input. Stoicism, Taoism and Buddhism - three philosophical schools of thought that have been with me for a long time and that I always enjoy thinking about.

I let the words from the audiobooks sink in, but they didn't overpower the moment.

I had adjusted the volume so that I could hear every word clearly, but at the same time I could still hear the gentle sound of the waves. The world in front of me - the sea, the sky, the ships in the distance - and the thoughts from the millennia-old teachings blended into something I find hard to describe.

Taoism in particular spoke to me at that moment. ‘Flow with things, don't hold on, but be in the moment.’ That suited my day. I hadn't planned anything, but had simply followed my feelings - and that's exactly why everything felt so light and right.

A little Zen garden in the sand

As I sat there, I drew lines in the damp sand with a small stick. No clear patterns, just circles and waves. I thought of Japanese Zen gardens, where sand and stones are deliberately arranged to radiate calm. This was my own little Zen moment.

I don't know how long I just sat there and thought - without pressure, without feeling like I had to do anything. It was one of those rare moments when my head wasn't thinking forwards or backwards, it was just there.

Notes in the moment

At some point, I did pick up my notebook. Not because I had to, but because I had thoughts that I wanted to record.

I like to brainstorm with ChatGPT and record my ideas digitally, but at that moment I wanted to do it in an entirely analogue way. There's something special about writing with pen on paper - consciously, slowly, almost meditatively.

I was writing about a topic that had been on my mind for days: How can creative workspaces be better designed?

In my experience, the space you work in has a huge impact on how you feel and how productive you are. So I thought about what an ideal coworking space could look like:

Should the workspaces have different themes?

How could the spaces be designed to encourage creativity?

What routines make for a pleasant working atmosphere? Eating together? Feedback rounds?

And most importantly, how do you create a place where people enjoy spending time?

I sketched out ideas, jotted down thoughts - without any pressure, just because they came to me.

It was a perfect moment of clarity.

After a while, I put the pen down and looked around again. I was completely in the moment. No distractions, no rush, no thoughts about what was coming next.

Part 4: An evening full of music and conversation

The beach lay peacefully before me, the waves retreating evenly and breaking gently on the shore. I just sat there, felt the warmth of the sun on my skin and let my thoughts drift.

I was in no rush. There was no plan, no ‘I should set off slowly now’. I just knew that I would go when it felt right.

And at some point, that exact moment came. I stood up, knocked the sand off my trousers and jacket, put my jacket back on and looked out at the sea once more. Then I slowly started to move.

Less than a minute later, the first raindrops started to fall.

It wasn't heavy rain, just a light drizzle - just enough to freshen the air. I had to smile. It felt like I had timed my stay at the beach just right. Stayed just long enough to enjoy it to the full, but left at just the right moment.

Snacks and anticipation for the evening

On the way back home, I made a quick stop at a konbini. I wanted to pick up a few snacks - perhaps as a little reserve for later or simply as a reward for the lovely day.

I decided on a few Japanese sweets, an onigiri and a bottle of cola. It wasn't anything special, but it was exactly what I was in the mood for. I liked the idea that on my birthday I could just treat myself to whatever made me happy - whether it was big experiences or small things like a chocolate croissant.

Then I went home, had a snack, had a short rest and prepared myself for the evening. Because now it was time for karaoke.

Four hours of karaoke and a whole bottle of whisky

We met up in a small group - four friends and me - in a karaoke bar. I knew beforehand that this was going to be a highlight of the day. Karaoke in Japan is simply in a different league.

We had booked our own room, equipped with microphones, a huge song list and an endless selection of drinks.

I was a bit reserved at first, but that soon changed. We ordered our first drinks, the first songs were sung, and with every song the atmosphere became more exuberant. At some point, my reticence disappeared completely - we sang, laughed and shouted into the microphones at the top of our voices.

One friend of mine and I in particular had a special run that evening: the two of us emptied a whole bottle of whisky. It somehow just happened. One glass after another, one song after another - and at some point the bottle was empty.

We partied for three or four hours, laughed about failed high notes and simply enjoyed the moment. I didn't even realise how much time had passed.

The last trip to the bar

After the karaoke evening, I was in a great mood but not yet ready to go home. So I persuaded the others to go to a bar with me.

We ended up in an English pub - a place where I didn't really want to end my birthday, but at that moment I didn't care. I had to have one last nightcap.

I ordered a Paulaner, a piece of home in Japan, and ended the evening with good conversation. My friends looked after me - ordered me a juice in between so that I could drink something else. It was just nice to be surrounded by people you could laugh and celebrate with.

The way home - a moment for me

After the bar, we parted ways and I made my way home alone. 25 minutes through the streets of Fukuoka at night.

I put on my headphones, turned the music down and reviewed the day. It had been a long day - full of little moments, full of intense conversations, full of lightness.

As I passed my favourite konbini, I made one last stop. I spent the rest of my vouchers, bought an onigiri, an egg sandwich and a few sweet croissants. Not because I was really hungry, but simply because it was the right thing to do - a last little snack before the day ends.

When I got home, I drank half a litre of water, changed my clothes and fell into bed. It was one of those days that makes you sink contentedly into your pillow.

A birthday I will never forget

It was my first birthday in Japan. For the first time without family, without a girlfriend and without close friends from Germany - and yet it didn't feel lonely.

I had organised the day completely according to my own wishes, listened to my instincts and spontaneously decided what I wanted to do. It was a day full of freedom, full of beautiful moments - and a day that I will remember for a long time to come.

Being alone on a birthday can be scary, but it can also be incredibly liberating.

And this birthday was exactly that: a day on which I simply did what makes me happy.