On a Matcha Diet: Pieces of Dartmouth I Found in Japan
I expected Japan to be unlike anything I'd ever known—and in many ways, it was. Between ancient temples, trains, matcha ice cream at every corner, and unique food, Japan was new and vibrant. But, somewhere between sipping tea in a bamboo forest in Kyoto and wandering the clean streets of Tokyo, I realized something strange: I kept finding little pieces of Dartmouth.
The cultural immersion I experienced in Japan surprisingly reminded me of my first-year fall. There is something quite humbling about being fully immersed in a culture you don't yet understand. In Japan, everything felt otherworldly—train stations with quiet crowds, phrases I'd rehearsed but still mispronounced ("Arigato gozaimasu" became a daily soundtrack). It all had a resemblance to my first Dartmouth term, when I was still learning how to navigate a new campus, new classmates, and new systems. That same mixture of nerves and excitement washed over me in both places. Except at Dartmouth, the daily soundtrack was "Hi, what's your name? Where are you from?"—the most common words spoken during orientation. What I learned in Hanover about diving in, asking questions, and laughing at mistakes and mishaps gave me the courage to explore Japan with an open heart.
A huge piece of my exploration was the food. In Japan, it was more than a mere necessity, but a ritual. From slurping ramen at a tiny counter in a marketplace to eating sushi at Sushizanmai, every meal felt like an entirely new experience. Matcha was its own category, though: matcha tea, matcha ice cream, matcha cake, matcha everything, everywhere. Eating slowly, intentionally, and with quiet appreciation was a daily experience. It brought me back to moments at Dartmouth: trying Collis sushi for the first time or exploring Hanover restaurants. I won't lie to you, the food in Japan was better, but the excitement of exploring a new world was the same.
One thing that stood out to me everywhere was the Japanese etiquette. The quietness on public transport, the timeliness of everything, the subtle bows exchanged between strangers. It was all respectful and elegant, and oddly familiar. At Dartmouth, we hold doors open for each other, and we wave across the Green to say hi to friends or even acquaintances. There is a shared sense of consideration throughout campus with small, everyday acts that make you feel welcome and dear to the community.
However, the most impressive piece of Dartmouth that I found in Japan was an actual Dartmouth hat. Hiking the Fushimi Inari Shrine—a network of hiking trails along a mountain covered in torii gates that lead to multiple prayer sites—I spotted a very distinct pine tree logo on someone's hat. Even in the middle of a forest in Kyoto, Dartmouth makes its presence known.

Not only that, but my Dartmouth hoodie was recognized at the airport, followed by a "Congratulations!" That's always a fun experience. :)
Since returning, the instinct to reply "arigato gozaimasu" instead of thank you still lingers, as I hope the memories of this incredible adventure will.