I am Chloé, and while many space paths seem to point towards the USA, NASA or JPL, I felt drawn to Japan, Japan Aerospace Exploration Agency (JAXA) and a culture I knew would challenge me far beyond science. As part of the first cohort of a new programme, there was no established exchange path yet, so getting here meant searching, asking, hoping and slowly finding my own way.

Then Prof. Louise Harra from PMOD/WRC connected me with Prof. Toshifumi Shimizu at JAXA/ISAS, who accepted me as a student on a SOLAR-C related project studying the Sun and space weather. I was incredibly happy, but also thought: “Okay, now this is actually happening.”

The months before leaving were intense: visa papers, housing, exams and goodbyes all came at once. I chose to live in Tokyo to fully experience the city, knowing it would be overwhelming. I left Switzerland excited and nervous, hoping the path would start to make sense once I walked it.

Arriving in Japan was beautiful, but also very humbling. One of the first big challenges was the language. Japanese is not only a new language for me, but also a completely different writing system. Actually, three writing systems. Before coming here, I had learnt hiragana and katakana, but suddenly I was standing in front of a washing machine covered in kanji, trying to understand how to do laundry with Google Translate and AI. It sounds funny now, and in some way it was, but in that moment I realised how many simple things become difficult when you are far away from home.

My commute to JAXA/ISAS in Sagamihara became a daily lesson in humility, from taking the wrong train between local, (semi) express and rapid express lines to navigating Shinjuku Station like an escape room until, after two weeks, I finally found my way to work.

At JAXA/ISAS, I was welcomed with so much kindness, but being a student surrounded by experienced researchers and scientists can still feel intimidating. In my thesis meetings, several supervisors, postdocs and senior scientists join to discuss my progress, and although I am grateful for their support, I sometimes feel a quiet pressure to prove that I belong there. After one of my first meetings, I felt completely overwhelmed and out of place, unsure of my results, my words and whether I belonged in science at all. I wanted to talk to someone, but with the language barrier and my lab friends speaking Japanese, even sharing that frustration felt difficult. That day, I went home angry at myself, lay in bed and seriously wondered whether I should return to Switzerland.

I think this is one of the most honest parts of my journey here. I am still learning how to take up space in the space world. Not as someone who already knows everything. Not as someone who is always confident. But as someone who is curious, hardworking, sometimes overwhelmed, and still trying.

And then there are the small moments that make everything feel warmer. Every morning, a Japanese student in my lab teaches me a little kanji. We talk about our days, our weekends, our favourite things, and slowly I learn more than just characters. I learn small pieces of language, culture and friendship. In the afternoon, we often have oyatsu, a snack time where people gather, share sweets and talk. Sometimes I learn a new phrase. Sometimes I try to guess the meaning of a kanji. Sometimes I just listen and enjoy being part of it.

My lab also has a tradition of bringing souvenir snacks from trips. Each snack is recorded in a book with its origin and taste. I really love this. It is such a small thing, but it says so much about the group. These small rituals have helped me feel less like a visitor and more like someone who is slowly becoming part of a place.

Not every day feels easy. Even after three months, the language barrier still makes me feel lost, and I still doubt myself sometimes. But almost halfway through my stay, I also see myself changing: finding my way, asking more questions, and learning that feeling unsure does not mean failing.

This journey is about more than my master’s thesis at JAXA/ISAS. It is about finding courage in small moments, following a path that was not clearly laid out for me, and slowly making it mine.