• Mori Nishimura, 34, grew up in New Zealand and moved to Japan at 16.
• After graduation, he began his career at real estate companies in Tokyo.
• Last year, he started his own company, which provides nature-based stays in mobile cabins in Japan.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Mori Nishimura, 34, the CEO of A Cabin Company in Japan. It's been edited for length and clarity.

I felt lost growing up. As a kid in New Zealand, I never questioned where I belonged. But as I got older, I became more aware of how different I was from my peers, which sparked my curiosity about Japan and my father's decision to leave it behind.

My father moved our family to Auckland because he wanted us to grow up surrounded by nature and away from the pressures of city life in Japan.

There weren't many Japanese families around, and I often felt caught between two cultures.

At 16, I moved to Japan by myself and enrolled in a boarding school in Kyoto. Life there was the opposite of New Zealand: Suddenly, I had curfews instead of the freedom to roam.

For the first time, I wasn't the odd one out. Two-thirds of the students were returnees — kids who had grown up abroad and come back to Japan — and they understood.

Exploring the countryside

Later, at university, I started exploring Japan. In the morning, before school started, I'd often drive out to different places and go surfing. I became fascinated with the Japanese countryside.

It reminded me of my childhood in New Zealand, when I used to escape into the woods near our house and build huts.

After graduating in 2015, I felt lost again and considered returning to New Zealand. Instead, I stayed in Tokyo and worked in real estate. A few years later, I started posting on LinkedIn about Japan's real estate market, the countryside, hospitality, and other interests. Eventually, I decided to strike out on my own.

During the pandemic, I traveled through rural Japan and reflected on what I wanted next. I came across a US company building tiny cabins on trailer chassis and saw an opportunity in Japan: fully operational accommodations that could bypass building permits and zoning laws because they were legally classified as vehicles.

I adapted the concept.

Starting a company from scratch

In 2024, I shared the idea on LinkedIn and wasn't targeting investors. Over time, though, the posts began attracting people who wanted to be part of what I was building.

A year later, when I launched a pre-seed fundraiser, investors reached out to back the business. My two full-time employees also found me through LinkedIn — the platform became an unexpected way to build both a team and a network of supporters.

The money raised from the fundraiser was used to open the first cabin in a national park in Chiba — about a two-hour train ride from central Tokyo — in August that year.

The 16-square-meter cabin is made from Japanese sugi and hinoki cedar and centered around a large picture window overlooking nature. Guests get complimentary firewood, coffee, and tea, plus bikes for rides to a nearby supermarket. It reached full occupancy within three months and has stayed booked ever since.

My second cabin opened in May, and my third will open in September.

Since the cabins are built on trailers, they are legally classified as vehicles rather than buildings.

Running a startup in Japan has been challenging because the ecosystem is still relatively new compared to those in other countries. There aren't many venture capital firms, so there aren't a lot of funding options.

The cabin costs about 30,000 Japanese yen for two guests, or about $190, a night.

So far, around 70% of our guests have been women. That came as a surprise, as I thought we'd get more solo male travelers, but we haven't had any.

Living up to my name

I didn't tell my parents when I started the business; they probably would have stopped me. When they found out, they were surprised but supportive.

My father was my biggest inspiration. About five years ago, he moved back to Japan and started looking for affordable land in the countryside where he could build a small cabin himself. But after being diagnosed with a terminal illness, he never got to see it completed. That experience gave me an even stronger sense of purpose in building the company.

He also gave me the name "Mori," which simply means "forest" in Japanese. It felt like I was born to do this.

Rebuilding my relationship with nature

My company focuses on nature, but I don't get to go out as much these days, except when I bring in guests. I work every day of the week.

Resting in Tokyo or any other big city is different because you never really switch off. I like doing campfires and having barbecues when I have the chance.

I want to enjoy my own cabin, but I can't because it's booked out.

• Moving to Japan from New Zealand gave my family cheaper living and better healthcare.
• Inexpensive flights and Japan's rail network made frequent travel part of everyday life.
• Less financial stress and a slower lifestyle improved my mental health and overall quality of life

Three years ago, my family of three left New Zealand for Kobe, Japan, desperate for a total reset. We were running on empty, exhausted by skyrocketing living costs, limited career growth, and relentless financial stress.

We already loved Japan as tourists, but moving here permanently felt like a massive gamble. Instead, trading hemispheres didn't just change our coordinates; it completely rewrote our quality of life.

Same-day medical care is possible

Back in New Zealand, my husband once waited months for an MRI after a severe work injury, while I spent years and thousands of dollars chasing answers to chronic health concerns through a clogged public system.

When his back pain returned, I braced for the same exhausting delays in Japan. Instead, I laughed out loud when the clinic doctor asked if he'd prefer his MRI in three hours or later in the day, after he'd had some lunch. The total cost was just ¥6000 (around $38 USD).

While New Zealand's healthcare is technically free, accessibility was often the real issue. I now feel an enormous sense of relief knowing affordable and timely care is available when we need it. My 10-year-old daughter's monthly pediatric specialist appointments cost just ¥280 — less than $2 USD.

Ditching our car improved our lives

We don't own a car, so movement is embedded in our daily life. Between train stations, school runs, and grocery trips, I easily clear 10,000 steps a day.

In my first four months here, I lost 10 kilograms (about 22 pounds), though I quickly found them again thanks to Japan's incredibly delicious bakeries.

Increased walking has also changed how I connect with my environment. In a car, seasonal changes passed me by. Now, I slow down to notice spring buds, cherry blossoms hanging over train tracks, or autumn maples turning a deep crimson. I even took extra winter walks just to feel snowflakes settle on my cheeks as the hills behind my home turned white.

We can travel frequently

In New Zealand, international trips were a rare and expensive treat. In Japan, cheap flights across Asia and an extensive rail network make travel effortless and affordable.

Last summer alone, we visited Vietnam, Taiwan, Singapore, Bali, and the Setouchi Islands. Our multi-stop summer itinerary — flying from Osaka to Singapore and Bali before heading back to Japan — cost just 212,587 Yen ($1,332 USD) for all three of us on budget carriers.

Traveling to Beppu this May made me realize just how lucky we are. As I rode the Yufuin no Mori scenic train past mountains covered in vivid green cedar and purple wisteria, I looked out the window and actually cried out of pure gratitude for this new life.

Having affordable international flights at our doorstep and a domestic transit system that makes spontaneous weekend trips easy has turned travel from an occasional luxury into a normal part of our lives.

Our housing and grocery bills plummeted by more than half

In New Zealand, we paid NZ $1,680, or about $985 USD, a month for a small two-bedroom unit outside Christchurch's city center. In Kobe, we now pay around $450 a month for a much larger three-bedroom apartment.

The first time I did a week's worth of grocery shopping in Japan, I walked into the supermarket with ¥50,000 (about $315 USD) in my wallet, expecting to spend most of it. When the total came to just ¥15,000 ($95 USD), I genuinely thought there had been a mistake at the register.

While rising prices and the weak yen have made everyday life more expensive for many families in Japan, it still feels far more financially manageable for us than life in New Zealand did, especially when it comes to housing, groceries, internet, and eating out.

Living in Japan has reshaped my perspective and improved my mental health

Starting over in Japan wasn't a magical fix; navigating a new language and culture was lonely at times. Yet immersing myself in a completely different way of living reshaped my perspective, teaching me to appreciate more and fight the current less.

They say money can't buy happiness, but the financial stability and lifestyle shift here reduced my stress so drastically that eight months ago, I finally came off antidepressants after relying on them since I was 17.

Japan didn't cure me, but it created the conditions for recovery, which reignited my curiosity for learning about the world.

• Laura Pollacco was struggling with depression and moved to Japan for two years to teach English.
• After returning home, she realized her career prospects and professional network were stronger in Tokyo, so she moved back.
• Now 31, working as a freelancer, and engaged, she's torn over where to build her future.

At 22, heartbroken, depressed, and unsure about my future, I craved novelty and adventure, so I packed up my life in England and moved to Japan.

Now, 31, living in Tokyo, and more secure than I've ever felt in my adult life, I can't help but feel that creeping depression, pushing me to pack my bags once more.

In my early 20s, upending my life felt exciting. Now, in my 30s, it just feels indecisive.

In 2016, I'd graduated with a degree in fashion photography and was working three part-time jobs in my university town to scrape by while simultaneously trying (and failing) to get over intense heartbreak. I was struggling.

Hobbies like theater and kung fu had lost their shine, my future felt vast and uncertain. I wanted a fresh slate.

During my personally elected studies into Japanese fashion and aesthetics, I fell in love with Japan. My dissertation was titled "The rise of gender neutrality and its origins in Japanese design." I even visited a friend studying abroad there in 2015, and that brief but fantastic sojourn left me thinking — somewhat naively — "I could live here."

A year later, in my depressed state, that thought resurfaced. Then it became all I could focus on.

I needed to move to Japan

The move wasn't completely off the cuff ー I'm not spontaneous enough for that. I applied to and was accepted into the JET Program, an organization that recruits thousands of graduates to teach English.

Rather than a traditional school placement, I was based at an education center in Kanagawa, about an hour from Tokyo, with occasional assignments at local high schools.

I threw myself into adapting: learning the rhythms of a new culture, working on my basic Japanese skills, and exploring my new environment. With every mountain climb, temple visit, and ramen bowl, I felt the blanket of depression start to fall from my shoulders.

I put myself out there once again, starting new hobbies such as MMA, kendo, and ikebana while reviving my old passions like drama. These led to new connections and opportunities. I felt reborn.

Japan had rekindled my passion for life. Feeling I'd gotten all I could from my teaching role, I decided to leave Japan with the goal of picking up where I was prior to my depressive episode.

Life back in Europe

I returned to the UK only for the pandemic to cut right across all my well-laid plans. Like most of the country, I was trapped inside, questioning my life decisions, especially about leaving Japan.

I was better connected in Tokyo's creative circles than in the UK, I had support in Japan, and the cost of living was considerably lower. I decided to move back, this time not out of depression, but out of hope and ambition.

In 2022, I returned on a working holiday visa, juggling remote freelance writing gigs with pitching to local publications. I pushed hard until, when my working holiday visa came to an end, I had enough work behind me to switch to the journalism visa in 2023.

Despite expanding my client list and gaining experience, my original fire began to flicker, then sputter, and more recently, it's felt like I'm helplessly blowing on the embers to keep them from going out. I was burned out.

Depression was setting in again. I experienced fatigue, a lack of interest in my hobbies, a desire to be left alone, all while self-flagellating my lack of ambition and for "settling" in my career.

My loving fiancé — whom I met here in Japan — was starting to worry to the point where he offered to cover the cost of online therapy. During these sessions, I realized that, for the first time since moving back to Japan, I was starting to feel homesick.

Living in a foreign country is tough

For starters, while I speak enough to get by, not speaking fluent Japanese is exhausting. As a multifaceted freelancer, immigration's restrictive boxes feel like a choking dog collar yanking me back from new opportunities, not to mention the new gray hairs I gain with every annual visa renewal.

On top of that, I've felt a rise of anti-foreigner sentiment, and Tokyo's concrete jungle is starting to feel claustrophobic and repressive.

In recent months, my brain has been flooded with ideas of returning back to the pastoral days of my youth. Stone cottages with actual gardens, walks down country paths with a dog by my side, fully understanding what's being said to me at a doctor's visit.

But I can't tell if I'm truly wanting to return to England or if I'm trying to escape back into a childhood where responsibilities were minimal.

I've worked so hard to get to and stay in Japan, I don't know whether to push through what could simply be a low period and wait to get to the other side, or whether my gut, my instinct, is trying to tell me something.

When it comes to big life choices like these, I realize I'll only find out if it was the right decision after the fact. I just hope that, whatever my partner and I choose to do, we make the best of that decision.

• On my first trip to Japan, I visited Tokyo, Kyoto, and Shima Onsen.
• I made some mistakes while planning my trip, like stressing about dinner reservations.
• I also wish I had spent far more time in Kyoto, which I fell in love with.

Japan has always been at the top of my bucket list.

So, my fiancé and I took a last-minute trip at the end of March 2025, hoping to catch the start of cherry blossom season as we explored Tokyo, Kyoto, and the hot-spring town of Shima Onsen.

The trip was full of incredible food, the kindest people, and sights I'll never forget. It was nearly perfect, but I made a few mistakes while planning.

Stressing about dinner reservations

As a food writer, I love researching restaurants when planning a trip. I dive into reviews, food blogs, and the occasional TikTok.

It wasn't long before the algorithm caught on, suddenly inundating my FYP with videos full of suggestions. As I attempted to navigate all the different reservation systems — Tabelog! TableCheck! Omakase! — I found myself getting more and more stressed. In the end, I only made a single reservation for an omakase experience — the very good Sushi Yuu.

And you know what? Almost every meal we ate was still fantastic.

With so much great food around every corner of Tokyo and Kyoto, it was easy to embrace spontaneous travel. When we got hungry, my fiancé and I would just pull up Google Maps and see what looked promising around us, often finding spots beloved by locals rather than packed because of a popular TikTok.

This led to our favorite meals of the trip, including a delicious lunch set at Isshin Daikanyama and an incredible shabu shabu experience at Wagyu Sukiyaki Kyoto Chikarayama Pontocho — the best dinner of our 10-day trip.

Packing revealing outfits

I flew to Tokyo after a weeklong trip in Sydney for a friend's wedding, so I had packed plenty of summer dresses for Australia's hot weather and daily beach visits.

I knew I wouldn't wear them often in Japan, where winter was only coming to an end. But when a tour guide told me that locals tend to dress more conservatively and rarely wear outfits that expose their shoulders or décolletage, I felt even more out of place in my wardrobe.

I left my strapless tops in my luggage and covered up spaghetti-strap dresses with a jacket throughout the trip. If I had done more research beforehand, I would've brought more options with sleeves to ensure I was considerate of the culture and its customs.

Only spending two full days in Kyoto

As we walked through Kyoto's Gion district at sunset, I knew immediately that I would fall in love with the city.

All my favorite meals from our Japan trip were in Kyoto. I still dream about the perfectly crispy pork and shrimp tonkatsu I had at Katsukura Tonkatsu Sanjo and the tender wagyu cooked in sugar and soy sauce at that shabu shabu dinner.

There were also so many stunning sights I'll never forget, like walking under thousands of orange torii gates at Fushimi Inari (go at 7 a.m. to beat the crowds) and relaxing in the gardens at Nijō Castle.

We had a packed itinerary, but I would've loved an extra day to appreciate Kyoto like a local. The city seemed to hum with a laid-back vibe. I wanted to walk around and check out some of the city's many listening bars. We visited one where the owner was also the bartender and DJ, swapping out vinyls as he set the mood and asked everyone about their lives while feeding us chips.

Buying a physical PASMO card instead of adding it to Apple Wallet

We frequently rode on Tokyo and Kyoto's subway systems while exploring different neighborhoods during our trip, so we used PASMO cards to pay for our fares. While my fiancé had added PASMO to his Apple Wallet prior to arriving in Tokyo, I bought a physical card before our first subway trip.

Taking out the card to pay for each trip wasn't a big deal, but I ran out of money en route to the Arashiyama Bamboo Forest in Kyoto. Instead of being able to add money to my PASMO via Apple Wallet, I had to join a long line of people who were trying to top up their cards at the only machine in the station and almost missed our train.

Booking a ryokan too far from one of our main hubs

I knew I wanted to spend at least one night of our trip in a ryokan, a traditional Japanese-style inn that typically features rooms with tatami floor mats, futon beds, and hot-spring baths known as onsens.

We had a great experience at Kashiwaya Ryokan, which I booked due to a friend's recommendation. But in my excitement (and jet lag after flying to Australia), I didn't do enough research on how we'd get to Shima Onsen from Kyoto. Since there were no direct trains between the two cities, we had to take the two-hour bullet train back to Tokyo before getting on a four-hour bus. Major oops!

I still loved experiencing such a beautiful ryokan and will cherish my memories of relaxing in the private outdoor onsens surrounded by mountains. But if you plan to spend less than two weeks in Japan, I'd recommend selecting a ryokan near or between the main cities you want to explore.

• I took a group tour of Japan with my kids, and Hakone turned out to be my favorite stop.
• The beautiful town had amazing hot springs, and the Hakone Open-Air Museum was incredible.
• If I return to Japan, I'd go to Hakone again and I'd love to visit other small towns in the country.

Visiting Japan has been on my bucket list for a long time, and I finally booked a trip after relentless pleas from my children — and reading about how the US dollar is strong against the Japanese yen.

To simplify planning, I booked a family tour through Intrepid Travel. Unsurprisingly, the tour went to Tokyo and Kyoto, popular tourist destinations that draw many visitors (including my family) to Japan.

However, the tour also brought us to some places I may not have found on my own, including the quaint, quirky mountain town of Hakone.

Visiting the town, which is southwest of central Tokyo and about a 90-minute railway ride away, turned out to be my favorite part of the trip.

We loved the town's famous hot springs

Hakone is full of onsens, or natural hot springs, heated by geothermal activity happening beneath Japan. During my visit, I got to experience several types of onsens — and I still dream of sitting in their soothing waters.

First, I tried a bucolic onsen overlooking the mountains, which were lush and green when I visited during the summer. Lounging in a naturally fed hot spring from the top of a mountain allowed me to slow down, relax, and appreciate the beauty of Japan outside of its big cities.

I also tried a traditional onsen, which was segregated by gender and required visitors to disrobe completely. As an American, I'm not used to bathing naked with strangers, but I didn't want to miss this quintessential Japanese experience.

Although I didn't stay long, it was eye-opening to see how this tradition, so different than my own, quickly helped me feel more comfortable in my own skin. This is something I would not have experienced if I had not gone to Hakone.

Finally, my kids and I tried a series of themed onsens at Yunessun, a hot-spring theme park, which was one of the quirkier experiences I have had while traveling.

There, I hopped into an onsen shaped like a ramen bowl, complete with blow-up toppings. My kids joked that we were experiencing what it felt like to be cooked on a stovetop.

I also got to try unique baths, including one filled with coffee and another containing wine. My skin felt smooth and soft when I left.

Our trip featured some unique activities, including a visit to a mind-blowing sculpture garden

Although my children don't always share my affinity for looking at paintings and sculptures, they agreed to accompany me to the Hakone Open-Air Museum.

Beyond its gates, we found larger-than-life interactive sculptures unlike anything we've seen at traditional art museums.

As we walked through the museum's gardens, we hopped through rainbows, climbed to the top of a stained-glass tower, and walked underground to peek up at the sky from below.

My children even swung on colorfully knitted balls hanging from an elaborate net, seemingly suspended from the sky.

Near the exit of the gardens, I sat and soaked my feet in a hot-spring footbath while gazing out at the surrounding forest. I wish that every large attraction had something similar at the end.

Fortunately, there were many other unique and fun things for us to do in Hakone.

While there, I ate one of the town's famous black eggs, which had been transformed from their original white after boiling in a sulfur-rich hot spring. Legend has it that eating one of these adds seven years to your life — I devoured every morsel.

We also got a glimpse of Mt. Fuji from the Hakone Tozan Railway and rode on a pirate ship to get a fantastic view of Hakone's bright-red Torii Gate standing in a lake.

Hakone was a wonderful stop on our trip, and I'd happily return

During our time in Hakone, we stayed in a ryokan, a type of traditional Japanese inn, and were able to explore a lot of the relatively small town on foot.

Along the way, we wound through mountain roads dotted with small restaurants and shops, a welcome reprieve from the heat of the bigger cities we had visited earlier in our trip. We even took some time to hike along Hakone's lush forest paths.

Although it's easy to see the appeal of Japan's bigger cities like Tokyo, Kyoto, and Osaka, if I ever return to the country, I would spend more time in Hakone and seek out other small towns.