Maya
IT programmer / interpreter
After living in the U.S. and China, she has been living in Stockholm, Sweden since the dawn of the new century.
Main occupation: IT programmer, occasional overseas location assistance, research, interpreter.
Private life: volunteer work related to pandemic.
12.10.2025
DAYS/ Maya Column
Stepping forward at Baltic
The Drifter of Winter
“I’ll be stopping by Stockholm tomorrow. Do you have time to meet up for a bit?”
The message came out of the blue from a former colleague I worked with in Japan.
It’s been a quarter of a century since I worked there as a temporary employee. From time to time, I wonder what my old coworkers are up to now. But since I’m not on Facebook or any similar platforms, I have no way of reaching out.
This colleague contacted me through LinkedIn. He was a full-time employee, and although we weren’t in the same department, we somehow had a connection during our time at the company. He told me he FIRE’d seven years ago and now spends half the year traveling abroad. Apparently, he’s already visited 160 countries.
“Oh, by the way, I also have a YouTube channel. Feel free to subscribe!”
That was the message he sent me.
I immediately assumed he was funding his travels around the world through YouTube revenue.
We agreed to meet at the city market on Saturday afternoon and walk together to the old town.
When I arrived at the market at the appointed time, I saw a man standing in the middle of the square wearing a bright yellow jacket that looked like a raincoat. Even though we hadn’t seen each other in a quarter of a century, we recognized each other instantly.
“How old are you now?” I asked.
“I’m 65,” he replied.
His long hair, reaching down to his waist, was tied back in a single ponytail. He was clearly much older than me, yet until he told me his age, I had somehow assumed we were the same generation. Even on this day, we spoke to each other casually, as equals.
So that means he retired early—FIRE’d—at 58, seven years ago. I wasn’t too familiar with Japan’s retirement system, but if the official retirement age is 60, then 58 might not be considered especially early for FIRE.
“Are you funding your travels with YouTube revenue?”
“No way. YouTube only brings in about 10,000 yen a month. I’m traveling by dipping into my savings. Our company paid us really well, didn’t it?”
That may have been true for him, but I was a temp worker, paid a flat hourly rate no matter where I worked. Still, if he’s been able to travel the world for seven years living off savings, his salary must have been quite substantial.
He was a top-performing employee, and thanks to a recommendation from his department head, the company even sponsored his doctoral studies at MIT.
He told me that in Japan, the official retirement age is 60, but public pension benefits don’t begin until 65.
“So how do people manage during those five years in between?”
“They live off their savings.”
“Isn’t that tough? I mean, what if your spouse isn’t working and all your kids are attending private universities or something?”
“Yeah, that would be tough. That’s why a lot of people go back to work. The salary’s only about a third of what they used to earn, though. But in my case, life’s pretty easy. I don’t have a family, I don’t own a car or anything, and I rent an apartment. If I die with zero savings, that would be just right.”
I see. It makes perfect sense—investing the money you earned in yourself. Starting next year, he’ll begin receiving his pension. No worries about old age. An ideal life, really.
“Of all the countries you’ve traveled to, which three were your favorites?”
“They were all great, but if I had to choose just three… Tunisia, Madagascar, and Laos, I guess.”
None of the countries he named were what we typically call “developed nations.”
“What about your most viral YouTube video so far?”
“Probably the Hell Temple in Thailand.”
I had never heard of Thailand’s Hell Temple, but when I looked it up online, I found many reports about it. The entire temple was filled with grotesque, three-dimensional scenes depicting hell—like a vivid, sculpted scroll of torment.
As I listened to his tales of adventure, I walked through the old town, swept by a wintry wind. In the square, trucks were unloading stalls for the upcoming Christmas market.
Come to think of it, it’s already that time of year.
2025 hasn’t been a particularly good year for me—nor would others likely say it was—but even this year is now drawing to a close.
He plans to continue traveling through the Nordic countries, with Greenland as his final destination. Having already visited Antarctica, Greenland probably doesn’t pose much of a challenge for him.
I had always believed myself to be an avid traveler.
But in this world, there are people like him who have visited over a hundred countries. Some of those places, I’ve heard, were in the midst of war—where sightseeing meant being escorted at all times by armed soldiers.
He once told me he was arrested just for taking a photo of a road, and had to pay a bribe to be released.
What drives someone to take such risks just to fill in the blanks on a world map? Is it a sense of duty to complete a mission?
“What an incredibly rich life experience. But I could never do the same,” I said.
“You don’t have to,” he replied with a laugh.
I doubt I would ever willingly set foot in a war-torn country.
So am I truly passionate about travel? Or am I simply trying to escape the reality of where I am now?
He handed me his business card. On the back, the countries he had visited were shaded in. The remaining blank area was mostly central Africa—likely places not known for their safety.
Is he planning to conquer those countries too, even if it means risking his life?
As I watched him from behind, photographing the landscape across the cold Nordic waters, I found myself thinking: no matter the danger, he seems to possess the wit and wisdom to survive. Perhaps we’ll cross paths again somewhere in the world.
When I reach his age, what kind of life will I have chosen? Will I still be trying to survive in the jungle of organizational politics, constantly reading the room?
Even if that’s the case, in the end, it’s not something imposed on me. It’s a path I chose myself.
9.10.2025
DAYS/ Maya Column
Stepping forward at Baltic
The life goes on
One morning, I received a text message on my mobile phone.
That day, I was busy running around, so I glanced at the sender's name and decided to reply later, leaving it as it was.
However, I suddenly became curious.
The sender of the message appeared to be an acquaintance of mine who is a musician, but the content of the message was that her second daughter, Mira, was visiting Stockholm and she wanted to get in touch with my second daughter.
The musician I knew had been on tour throughout August and was not in Stockholm. Furthermore, she only had one daughter, and her name was not Mira.
I picked up my mobile phone again and checked the sender's name. Although the first name was the same, it was not my friend who lived in Stockholm, but a friend who lived in the United States. I hadn't seen this friend in over ten years, but we still kept in touch from time to time. We were friends who had been close with each other as couples in Tokyo when we were young.
I immediately sent her my second daughter's contact information. I thought about asking her why Mira was visiting Stockholm alone, but I felt that it was more important to get hold of my daughters immediately.
After that, I forgot about our daughters' meeting because I was busy, but in the evening, I remembered and asked my second daughter if she had met Mira.
‘Yes, we met and spent three hours together.’
My daughter replied in a flat tone, as if it were just a part of her daily life.
‘I'm glad you guys met. What language did you speak?’
‘English.’
‘Why did you speak English when you're both Japanese?’
‘Because her Japanese is much better than mine.’
I wondered what they had talked about, given that there had been no contact for over ten years, but perhaps young people have something in common that allows them to connect.
Later, Mira's mother called, so I asked her why Mira was visiting Stockholm. I had imagined she would say ‘sightseeing trip,’ but her answer was that she was visiting Stockholm on a tour.
From the nuance, I felt it was not a sightseeing tour but an artist's tour. Then I remembered that Mira had been taking piano lessons and had won awards at competitions.
‘A tour for piano performances?’
‘She's touring Europe with a band, playing piano and base.’
It took me a while to process that information.
‘A band? Can she make a living from that?’
‘Well, it's her job, and Mira still lives with me.’
I asked her the name of the band, but I had never heard of it.
‘Well, let's not talk about the band. Tell me about what's been going on with you,’ she said, trying to change the subject, so I didn't bring it up again.
However, to my surprise,
when I later searched for the band's name, it seemed that Mira's band was quite famous. It seemed that there were Japanese fans as well, and they had performed in Japan.
I felt how fortunate it was to be able to make a living from music she loved, but after hearing Mira's vocals, I understood why. Having been trained at a music university, her skills were so impressive that even an amateur like me could appreciate them.
Mira, the middle sister of three, had a somewhat eccentric appearance, as far as I can remember. Her appearance and aura were different from her gentle and intelligent eldest sister and her cute youngest sister, who was as sweet as cotton candy.
However, in the video, she had grown up to be so beautiful.
It is often difficult to understand the lyrics of songs sung in a foreign language. Even songs sung in Japanese can sometimes be hard to understand. Their songs are not upbeat. The lyrics are probably not cheerful either. They are in a minor key, somewhat melancholic and serious in tone.
What was going through her mind as her exceptional singing voice overwhelmed the audience?
Perhaps it was the sudden death of her father.
Her father, who embodied the word ‘goodness,’ collapsed and passed away the day after returning from a two-week cycling trip. He was not yet at an age where he should have died.
Due to the pandemic, we were unable to attend his funeral. As a result, I still cannot fully grasp the reality of his passing.
My friend says she still feels like she is living in a daytime dream.
And my ex-husband lost his last of only three true friends that year. The ages of his friends were 52, 55, and 60, none of whom were at an age where they should have passed away.
When the 52-year-old friend passed away, the first notification came to me from his family. It was past midnight.
Immediately after that, when I contacted my ex-husband, he replied,
‘Are you kidding?
‘Do you think I'm the kind of person who would call in the middle of the night to tell a joke like that?’
The reality of my friend's untimely death was difficult to accept, but it happened three times in a row.
And the third death was that of Mira's father.
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How did Mira, the second daughter, come to terms with the sudden death of her father, who was known as a good man?
And did Mira's father get to know about his second daughter's remarkable achievement in the music world? Did he make it in time?
And last year, another tragedy struck this family.
Their youngest daughter, as sweet as cotton candy, was diagnosed with a very rare and severe illness.
My eldest daughter cries out in despair at this injustice.
‘Why does such a kind family have to endure such misfortune repeatedly? They've suffered enough. I wish the world would stop making them unhappy.’
Most people recognise, even if they don't say it out loud, that the world is full of injustice. But deep down, they believe or hope that good deeds will be rewarded.
Perhaps Mira's singing voice sounds sad because it carries the misfortune that her family has been forced to endure. And perhaps that is why Mira's singing voice resonates with so many listeners.
Will Mira continue to sing about the absurdity of life in her songs?
I have a photograph taken over ten years ago. It was taken when Mira's family visited Stockholm. It is a group photo taken in the sun with a lake as the backdrop. We are smiling and making peace signs toward the camera. Mira's father is also in the photo.
Only Mira is looking in a different direction.