This morning, while scrolling through X, I saw a rather alarming post. From now on, in order to become a Permanent Resident (PR), you first need to have held a 5-year visa. Previously, a 3-year visa was sufficient – and since that’s most likely what I’ll receive at my next renewal, I had already mapped out a whole plan in my head. As soon as François and I have been married for three years (another requirement you have to meet), I would apply for PR. That would be two years from now. But with this legal change, that will only work if they immediately grant me a 5-year visa this July. And the chances of that are slim.

After the initial shock, I was able to put things back into perspective a bit: if I first get three years and then five, it will only cost me just over one extra year and a chunk of money (visa renewals are also about to become a lot more expensive). It’s also possible that the Japanese government, in an effort to reduce the backlog and long waiting times, will start granting longer visas more quickly. Two of my friends recently went from one-year renewals straight to three years, and people online were saying the same.

On top of that, I’m perfectly fine on a spouse visa, although it does come with a few small disadvantages compared to PR; for example, I’m not allowed to stay outside Japan for longer than 100 days (unless I have a very good reason), I have to live at the same address as my husband (which means I can’t insure my little apartment in Hachioji against earthquakes, because I don’t officially live there), and François isn’t allowed to die. Not that he ever is, if you ask me – but without PR, it would also mean I’d get kicked out of the country.

Anyway, those are all fairly unlikely scenarios, and that’s not even really the point. It’s the constant threat of yet another change. What will they come up with next week? The idea that you can be discarded like yesterday’s trash overnight, while at the same time being expected to go all-in, build a life here, learn the language, buy a house – although I recently heard they’re planning to keep a database of foreigners who own property. To make them pay more taxes, or something.

Maybe I should have known better, because this volatility and xenophobia have been around since covid. Longtime readers will remember how I had to wait 14 months to emigrate because Japan kept adjusting its border policies. How I had already given up my apartment and ended up sleeping on Riemer’s floor, and later lived in the Lee Towers. Last year, the rules for the Business Manager visa were suddenly tightened, which, among other things, meant that instead of needing 5 million yen (about 27,000 euros) in capital, you now had to have 30 million (well over 150,000 euros!) sitting in the bank. You also suddenly needed to employ a full-time Japanese staff member, and several other hurdles were introduced – mainly intended to stop fraudulent visa factories and Chinese Airbnb operators. The Chinese found loopholes. Small IT startups didn’t.

I was lucky (or rather: cautious – sometimes overthinking does pay off) and had just come off my Business Manager visa, because François received his PR in time and I was able to marry him. My friend Elyse and her husband didn’t have that option, since they were both on Business Manager visas. Or rather, were. Next week they’re leaving Japan and moving back to the Netherlands. In this Instagram post, Elyse explains it in a bit more detail, but in short, it simply stopped making sense for them to continue in Japan. Thankfully, Elyse has started to feel a bit excited about going back – but oh, how I’m going to miss our K3 marathons and coffee dates!

It’s a well-known part of living abroad: people come and people go. Yesterday I said goodbye to Elyse, today to Mila. Mila isn’t here on a work visa, but she’s basically me from eight years ago; she’s a freelancer who packed up her laptop full of projects and moved to Japan to explore the country in between coding sessions. We regularly ended up side by side in Starbucks, tinkering away on our websites. Luckily, both Mila and Elyse plan to return to Japan often – even if just for short visits.

Mila just asked me: Is it still worth it? Living in Japan? With all the extra red tape (I’m still dealing with the bureaucratic aftermath of dissolving my Japanese company), the stress and uncertainty, and the growing xenophobia? My answer is yes. For now. (I don’t exactly have much of a choice either, because François definitely wants to stay here, so that would immediately turn into a much bigger drama.) I’m happy to be flying to the Netherlands next week, but after those seven weeks I’ll probably be longing again for mountain landscapes, convenience stores, clean and quiet trains and yes, probably even the hanko stamps, overly polite people, and the tax refund of six yen that I ab-so-lutely have to collect at the post office – because otherwise there would undoubtedly be consequences.