My family moved to Japan when I was 6. Now, as an adult, I realize the move was harder on my parents than me.

• I moved from Seattle to Japan when I was 6 years old.
• At first I refused to go, and my parents had to negotiate with me to get on the plane to Tokyo.
• As an adult, I realized how the whole experience was probably harder for my parents.

A couple of years ago, I came across an old diary from when I was 6. I flipped through entries I had no recollection of writing. Yet there they were, full-fledged confessions of a 6-year-old who had no desire to move from Seattle to Japan, scrawled across pages from two decades ago.

"I don't want to move to the land where people eat with sticks," I wrote. "How will I make friends when I can't speak the language?"

My parents used a mix of clever negotiation and award-winning patience to get me to board our flight from Seattle to Tokyo. Once our plane touched down at Narita International Airport and we were on our way to our new home in Yokohama, I stared out the window with new sights flashing and never looked back.

I didn't expect to adapt so quickly to my new life, and I realized years later how much harder it was on my parents.

I adapted quickly to life in Japan

The differences were notable but easy to adapt to as a kid. The houses were more compact, and yards were almost nonexistent. With no green space, we had to leave our dogs behind in the US with family. As crushed as we were, a year later, we adopted a cat who quickly became an irreplaceable family member.

The language barrier was stark, but my daily Japanese classes at school gave me a sufficient vocabulary and phrases to help me get by. I quickly found myself reading the street signs and menus in restaurants. If they didn't speak English, a store clerk went out of the way to find someone who could speak English and help translate.

Yokohama was so safe that I took public buses by myself at 8 to meet friends in different parts of the city. Attending an international school eased the transition, as we weren't exposed to the rigorous Japanese education system, which included long hours, school on Saturdays, and rigid testing systems.

Shopping was generally an entirely different experience. Stationery stores were filled with rows upon rows of colorful glitter gel pens and erasers shaped like every food item and animal imaginable. I swapped out my favorite American brands for some of the colorful, eccentric street styles of Japan in the late '90s and early 2000s — perhaps the most notable being high-platform sneakers with shapes cut out of the wedge.

I wasn't a fan of sushi but found food I loved

Finding some of our favorite Western foods in grocery stores proved challenging. The goods that were available in specialty stores came at a premium price.

Not too keen on sushi, sashimi, or many of the other seafood-centric Japanese delicacies at my young age, I learned to eat a lot of rice, ramen, and tempura.

While I could no longer find my favorite American sweets, I came to love iconic Japanese candies and snacks, from seaweed-covered rice crackers and Pocky to all the funky, fruity candies.

I have distinct memories of my mom and I buying mystery pastries at a bakery, anticipating a custard or cream filling and instead biting into a red-bean curd or an octopus ball. All the details were part of the fun, though, and live on as favorite memories.

It was harder on my parents

The most drastic challenges fell on my parents. Years later, I look back with a deep appreciation for them, particularly my mother, and how they took the move in stride.

They had to adapt to a new country and language, leave family and friends behind, start new jobs, and find a new home, all while navigating the challenges my brother and I faced with a new school, living out of a hotel until we found a house, and finding food to make us lunches.

Simple things we took for granted, including driving, came with a big learning curve. My mom has told the story numerous times that it took her four tries to pass her driver's test in Japan. She had to take it to obtain a Japanese license — a process that reflected the perfectionist culture there. Once, she automatically failed the test for stopping just over the line. Not to mention, once she passed, she had to navigate the narrow roads, congested traffic, driving on the left side of the road, and reading road signs.

Learning that my family was moving us to Japan was one of the most daunting transitions I faced as a child, but the move was the best opportunity they could have provided for us. The cultural differences were anything but subtle, yet they were irreplaceable memories, unrivaled immersion, and valuable lessons along the way.