This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Levi Pells, 32, a life coach and retreat leader in Japan. It’s been edited for length and clarity.
I spent five years as a recruiter in Tokyo.
From my high-rise apartment in Roppongi, with Tokyo Tower glowing in the distance, I had everything I thought I wanted: a steady paycheck, a girlfriend, and the trappings of success. Yet I felt completely alone.
My achievements were measurable; my happiness wasn’t. So I walked away — from Tokyo, and the life I’d built — to start over in the Japanese countryside.
Japan wasn’t new to me
I was born in Texas and raised in Hawaii. As a teenager, I became interested in the Japanese language and culture. I dated a Japanese girl and watched a bunch of movies and TV shows. After a family trip to Japan when I was 20, I was hooked.
After graduating from Boston College, I joined the JET Program, a government initiative that sends foreign graduates to teach English in Japan.
While most wanted to be placed in Tokyo or Kyoto, I requested a location that was remote. They sent me to a mountain village on Shikoku Island. The village had about 670 people, and it took an hour to get to the nearest supermarket.
The village taught me patience and humility. Every interaction required effort; even buying bread was a small victory in broken Japanese. My classes were small, and I joined a local volleyball team composed mostly of people in their 70s.
It was the most connected I’d ever felt.
Provided by Levi Pells
The corporate climb — and crash
After two years, someone at a career fair pitched me the dream of recruitment in Tokyo: fast money and faster promotions. I went for it. My second interview landed me a job at a recruitment agency, where I began cold-calling investment bankers at firms like Goldman Sachs, Morgan Stanley, and JPMorgan.
Within a few years, I was managing a small team and earning more than I ever imagined. I was surrounded by ambition, but also exhaustion. My happiness rose and fell with my quarterly performance.
When my father was diagnosed with late-stage cancer in 2020, I flew back to Hawaii before flights were grounded. I stayed nine months, working remotely and learning to surf with my brother on empty beaches.
For the first time in years, I felt grounded.
Provided by Levi Pells
When I returned to Japan, I realized that the one thing I was certain of was my desire to surf.
So I left Tokyo for Chiba, a quiet beach town an hour away. I surfed at sunrise, worked remotely, and spent weekends helping local farmers. Covered in dirt and sweat, I felt more fulfilled than I ever had in an office. That’s when I realized I didn’t just want a new job — I wanted a new life.
Provided by Levi Pells
Building a slower business
I quit recruiting and started my own coaching practice in 2024. This year, I hosted my first digital detox retreat.
Most of my clients are expats in high-pressure jobs — recruiters, consultants, UX designers — who want to disconnect from screens and reconnect with themselves.
Retreat activities I’ve organized include organic farming, meditation, yoga, sauna sessions, cold plunges, art therapy, and group coaching. Meals and accommodations are included, often in renovated countryside homes near the coast.
In May, four people joined my first retreat — one a former coaching client, the others from LinkedIn. I charged 58,000 yen, about $380, each and barely broke even. But their positive feedback convinced me I was onto something.
Since then, I’ve run three retreats at two venues, raised the price to 85,000 yen, and now make a profit of about $500 to $600 per session. I pay local partners — the family who hosts meals, a yoga teacher, a sound healer, and a sauna business — about $1,000 per retreat.
In addition to the retreats, I offer one-day farm excursions, priced at $120 for adults and $60 for children, which include lunch at a farmhouse and optional temple walks or visits to hot springs. I also offer life coaching sessions and consulting for recruiters. I even sell peanuts with local farmers — a random but fun side gig.
At my peak as a recruiter, I earned 10 times what I do now, but I also spent far more. With lower costs and a slower pace, even a fraction of that feels like enough. I’m aiming to earn enough to cover my $2,800 monthly living costs.
Provided by Levi Pells
Life looks very different now
I now live in a two-story apartment near the ocean with my girlfriend. The view isn’t glamorous, but I’m minutes from the surf and surrounded by rice fields.
The community here feels closer than what I had in the city. I cook most meals at home with vegetables from my neighbors and meet friends — both Japanese and foreign — for morning surf sessions, followed by a cup of green tea.
My girlfriend works for the government and is an avid hunter. We spend weekends hiking, foraging, and cooking what we catch. If we ever had kids, I’d want to raise them in Japan, maybe we’d throw in a few years in Hawaii, too.
My life now follows a rhythm that feels honest and alive: far from skyscrapers, deadlines, and performance reviews.
Do you have a story about moving to Asia that you want to share? Get in touch with the editor: [email protected].
