Along Hakusan-dori on the final day of 2025, I found myself in the queue for Ebimaru Ramen, a specialty ramen restaurant specializing in lobster bisque. It was a long queue composed of a mix of locals and foreigners and I happened to be sandwiched between two young couples from Korea and Hong Kong. Keen to distract myself from the cold and their constant banter, I plugged into my earphones and started listening to the podcast on Spotify between Andrew Huberman and Steven Pressfield entitled Overcome Inner Resistance.

I was only 20 minutes into the podcast before it was my turn to be seated. The cozy interior was decked out in warm lights and featured wood furniture from Hida Takayama. My seat at the counter had already been set with exquisite cutlery that would not have been out of place in a fine dining establishment. As it was the end of the year, the chef was serving a special New Year sardine broth ramen that came with a serving of Hida pork chashu, thin chicken and pork slices and julienned seasoned menma topped with a cross-section of a strawberry and two tiny pods of french beans. My eyes were already in for a treat before my tastebuds were.

The few strands of scallion and tiny wedge of lime did not just elevate the aesthetics of the bowl; the tartness of these condiments went a long way to complementing the salty and briny sardine essence. The accompaniments were a delight and were a symphony of flavors in their own right, not least the slab of umami (i.e. the Hida pork) which disintegrated upon contact. Short of the broth, I cleared just about every morsel of this most satisfying meal very much worth the one hour of waiting out in the cold.

It was already past 4PM when I was done; the queue outside had shortened considerably but it was still a feat considering how the Yoshinoya further down the block was completely void of customers. Right above that Yoshinoya was a Singapore Hainan Chi-fan restaurant run by Taiwanese entrepreneurs which I would still recommend as authentic. It was where I chose to host my 中文社团 (as my previous company’s informal gathering of Mandarin-speaking colleagues is known) dinner. The food was good, the turnout was better and the conversations were the best.

I had been one of the six original participants when we first met in a hole-in-the-wall Xi’an noodle restaurant along the crammed inner streets of Ikebukuro in August 2023. And as it happens, all six of us hailed from different places: US, Japan, Shanghai, Hong Kong, Taiwan and Singapore. We were all working on different projects so the impetus for all of us to get together was this shared linguistic ability and a desire to know one another better. This dinner would then grow into a routine where every month, one of us takes turn to host a group dinner at a Chinese-themed restaurant. Inclusion to the group was simple: one just has to be able to hold an entire dinner conversation in Mandarin.

Gradually, the group grew. Just before I left in June 2025, we had 20+ members show up to enjoy Uighur cuisine in Ueno. There was a lot of shouting across tables just to make ourselves heard as the live band two tables away blared away. Towards the end, I had my fill of lamb but definitely not the camaraderie I knew I would miss when I left.

天下无不散的筵席

There is no banquet in the world that does not end. The writing had already been on the wall for some time. As much as I enjoyed the company of the friends I have made at work, it did not negate my work prospects; there was simply nothing left that I wanted to do. And so in April 2025, I responded to a solicitation from a recruiter representing a live entertainment scale-up from Spain.

Upon receiving the offer the following month, it did not take long for me to decide that it was time to part ways. I loved my time at Gartner Japan, but staying any longer than I did resembled the fate and fortunes of the country as a whole for my career: a slow, steady decline. I did not know if being a Partner Manager at Fever was going to be the dream job but what I did know is that I did not want to be sleepwalking through life.

And so I hurtled into a new phase of life and work, marked both by transition from sharehouse dweller to apartment owner and consultant to partner manager. The following months were then spent adapting to these new identities.

The former was easy enough. As much as I loved Room 207 of Couverture Itabashi, nothing beats having my own space and all that it entails. No more silently stewing at midnight while housemates continue to make a ruckus while being completely oblivious to the fact that the noises easily seep through the non-acoustic wooden walls. No more cleaning up after the last user who left unwashed dishes in the sink, oil splotches on the walls and crumbs on the countertop. No more picking up the clump of hair (and other gunk) clogged in the shower drain.

Just like Room 207 however, this unit gets an unbelievable amount of light. To the point where drawing open the curtains to the bedroom window transforms the alcove from a cave to an altar to the heavens. To the point where the floor-to-ceiling balcony door serves as the foot of an inverse sundial casting a beam of sunshine that sweeps westwards from the kitchen to the common corridor as the day progresses. To the point where the angular porthole by the kitchen sink casts enough sunlight to sustain the life of a small bouquet of cut flowers for weeks by the windowsill.

There is no mandate to buy instead of rent, especially in Japan when the laws, taxes and the structure of property agent fees are very much pro-tenant than pro-landlord. Renting would also have been a lot cheaper to say the least even if two years ago I had thought otherwise (though my benchmark then was living in a sharehouse). It also definitely offers a lot more flexibility than renting too, which is not a small consideration even for a small house.

But if there’s anything that I have learnt in life in my last six years here, it’s that you should never take the days you have for granted and put your dreams on hold in perpetuity. Home ownership was one of them. Even if it did not make any financial sense, I wanted a space that I could call my own in a place which I love. It really was as simple as that. And when the opportunity presented itself, I seized it with both hands even when it came with the shackles of a 35-year mortgage.

The switching of cuffs from consultant to corporate has been much more of a mixed bag. Specifically, my current role is to serve as the main contact person for Japanese partners and for the last six months and probably a few more after, it has only just been me. For someone whose grasp of the language is still relatively tenuous and who is usually relegated to the support areas in front of Japanese clients for much of my career, this was a tall ask. This was also just half the battle too; the other half was against internal teams based in other continents around the world who have a tendency to either botch or delay my requests.

There is no sugar coating it; the last couple of months at work have been a struggle and my morale dipped to levels below those during the early days of Covid-19. I could barely contain the vitriol within me at times and it expressed itself in vituperation and other acts of recklessness. Too many times, I contemplated just pulling the pin altogether. Thankfully, having a new manager whom I could commiserate and consult with did ameliorate the situation.

In spite of how hard the work has been, there have still been some sparks of satisfaction in seeing the work I do translate into new experiences for visitors. One of which is Light Cycles Kyoto. It was already an ongoing event at the Kyoto Botanical Gardens when my company took over as the main ticketing partner in a bid to improve flagging sales.

With a complimentary ticket on hand, I squeezed time in the evening after a partner introduction to my company’s systems to attend the ongoing experience in mid-September. For good (or for bad), the conservatory was relatively empty when I arrived on a Thursday evening. Upon entering the first of four exhibition zones, I was immediately struck by the interplay of light and sound. The spotlights swirled and stopped and switched in iterations of illumination. The aural ambience evoked in us both alacrity and amusement, and on occasion a resonant tranquility. Save for the final zone, I felt that this masterful manipulation of the senses could better engage the vegetation and leverage its botanical background more.

All in all, it was a wonderful experience and I felt it there that my job was to bring this to bigger audiences. For the first time in my career here, I could feel a link between the work I do and a tangible outcome which would likely not be killed in a boardroom brawl. And while I may not be the most competent candidate for this role, I was the one who was chosen, and this was what I chose.

Our choices can make all the difference. Chef-founder MASA of Ebimaru Ramen parlayed his early training in French cusine to bring the bourgeoisie to the boroughs, with a bowl starting at ￥1,530. As a result of his choice, thousands of people from all walks of life are able to enjoy his passion from a parlor that barely seats 10. His ramen is perhaps a reminder from him for us all to live more intentionally and to make more choices that elevate experiences for the everyman.

To that, I can hear Steven Pressfield pressing in about overcoming Resistance, that powerful internal force that inhibits us from pursuing our true callings, creative projects and personal growth. The trick is to show up, do the work and regard oneself as a professional.

This blog is a creative project that I would like to put more effort into for this year and for the many years that come after. In the age of TikTok, Instagram and paid Substacks, I am well aware that personal blogs like these are part of the fringe. No matter because these writings are for myself, and for you dear reader who wants a sneak peek of the life of a Singaporean salaryman fumbling through his life here in Tokyo and trying to make sense and peace with it all.

Thank you for reading and for being with me. Here’s to a wonderful year ahead!