Experiences – Life – Inspiration 🇨🇭🇯🇵

One of the quiet joys I’ve come to deeply appreciate since moving to rural Japan is something I never truly experienced back in the Netherlands: eating vegetables and fruits that were just harvested—sometimes minutes or hours ago.

Often, we eat vegetables grown in our own small garden, or gifted by neighbors who have more than they need. My mother-in-law regularly shares seasonal produce with us—tomatoes, daikon, cucumbers, eggplants, persimmons, mandarins, and much more—either from her own garden or passed on from generous neighbors.

This isn’t just about food. It’s a rhythm, a way of life. In our community, people still exchange what they grow, and that spirit of sharing seems to root people more deeply into their surroundings—and into each other.

When you bite into a cucumber that was just picked earlier that morning, there’s something unmistakably fresh about it. Not just in taste, but in energy. It’s alive in a way that mass-produced vegetables never quite are.

Back in the Netherlands, even though many vegetables are grown domestically, they’re still mass produced in greenhouses—often not even in real soil. I used to believe it was “fresh,” but now I can’t help but wonder how much nutritional value we actually got from them. Most fruits were picked before they were ripe to extend shelf life—bananas, avocados, you name it—and many vegetables were shipped in from far away, often frozen to avoid premature ripening.

They looked perfect. But they didn’t feel alive.

Living here in Japan, I can taste the difference. And I can feel it in my body too. There’s a clarity, a sense of being nourished—not just fed—that I never experienced before.

I’ve come to see this access to fresh, locally grown, and lovingly shared produce as a real life asset. It doesn’t just support our physical wellbeing; it nurtures something much deeper. A connection to the land, the seasons, and to a slower, more communal way of life.

I may still be far from being a skilled gardener myself, but I already know: I wouldn’t want to live any other way anymore. In many ways, this lifestyle has spoiled me—in the best possible sense. And for that, I am profoundly grateful.