So you've just spent three-quarters of your life in school, living with your parents for a lot of it or at least never leaving your hometown. You've met a wonderful person, someone with whom you're prepared to spend the rest of your life. And you've finally nailed down that degree you've been after, that piece of paper that says you're ready to enter the work force.

What do you do now? Leave the country, of course.

No, it's not always so cut and dried. But remember, even though I was a card-carrying adult at this point, I still didn't know what I wanted to be when I grew up. So when I heard about this internship program through my Japanese class, I thought it sounded like a great way to ease into the working world.

Nothing was easy about Japan, though. The culture, the language, the priorities, the personalities are about as far removed as one can get from the Southwest. And I found out pretty quickly that what I'd learned from The Karate Kid did not really apply.

On my 23rd birthday, I was awakened by the manager of the dorm I lived in, telling me I had a phone call at the front desk. My fiancee had the right idea -- conveying her love and best wishes -- but coming as it did so soon after I'd moved across the globe, it served to reinforce exactly how alone I was all of a sudden, how vulnerable I'd become, leaping into this (literally) completely foreign position. And it hurt.

But by the end of the day, after some co-workers had taken me to a bar and a summer festival that just happened to coincide with my birthday, I felt better. It was about then that I decided not to burrow inside myself, like I might have were I simply in, say, Pittsburgh; in a place where I knew the language and thereby could be self-sufficient, I would not have to make new friends, but a culture as strange as Japan would require it of me.

That year abroad was probably the best thing I could have ever done for my people skills and my self-confidence. I never really learned the language -- the best I managed was to buy a summer kimono with matching obi for my girl back home without a translator -- and I never fully felt at ease with the customs and traditions and ways. But I learned that in Japan, they understand that, even expect it of foreigners. They won't expect you to get why they do things the way they do, and they won't hold it against you if you don't do it that way. Maybe it's a little condescending, but it sure makes for a nicer relationship -- especially when you surprise them by doing things with wa-fu.

So I don't know more facts than I did when I went. I don't know more language; in fact, in the intervening years I've probably forgotten almost all of it. But I do know that if I go into something with an open mind and a willingness to try and learn, that's almost as good.