Do Something That Scares You

Ten years ago this week, I embarked on what would become a more than 2 year professional and personal journey unlike any other in my life to date.

I think of my time on my international assignment often, and about the people, work, environments, interactions, and adventures that made it an incredibly fulfilling and insightful learning experience. Not to mention the food, which I’ve certainly shared plenty of times before.

I didn’t know what to expect when I signed the contract to transfer to Tokyo, Japan, for work, but I did know that I was a full combination of excited, terrified, and optimistic about what the experience would be like. I also didn’t know how long I would be there, nor did I expect that at the end of two years I would be heartbroken to leave and return to the U.S.

As I reflect on the entire experience a decade later, I am able to see and appreciate much more than I knew at the time. For example, I vividly remember the thrill of signing the international assignment contract, borrowing our then-CEO Brent Saunders’ desk for the occasion. What made for a good photo op at the time later became a happy memory of Bausch & Lomb and its great leadership team before it went through the transaction with Valeant Pharmaceuticals, which ultimately changed the company forever.

Signing the international assignment contract
Signing my international assignment contract on September 29, 2011 in the Bausch & Lomb building in downtown Rochester, NY

I remember the sharpness of the words in the contract indicating that I would be on a one-way flight from Rochester to Tokyo, and that my return would be “discussed and arranged at a later date”. The gravity of that statement did not really hit me until about 3 months later when I was actually on that one-way flight and realizing in the moment that it is a surreal experience to be on a trip with no known plan to return home.

Which all brings me to the theme — do something that scares you.

After sliding the signed contract back into the envelope and submitting it to the senior management team who made it all possible (a tremendous thank you to Pete Valenti, Susan Denman, Hideyuki Ashikaga, and Steven Robins), my mind started racing with some of the basic questions: where would I live? how would I adapt to the [vastly different] work culture? how can I learn the business to be most effective in my role? do I need to start learning Japanese? what about my personal things in Rochester?

From that fear came a new sense of purpose, one that would keep me motivated to make the most of the experience.

And that is the moment when the excitement shifted to what I might describe as straight-up fear that I had made a very wrong decision. But from that fear came a new sense of purpose, one that would keep me motivated to make the most of the experience. I thought to myself, “millions of people have relocated like this before, whether for work or for personal reasons, and they all turned out OK. Why should my experience be any less successful?”

Professor Andy Molinsky wrote about the topic a few years ago in a short piece in Harvard Business Review entitled “If You’re Not Outside Your Comfort Zone, You Won’t Learn Anything“. While his commentary is about public speaking, networking, and communication, the underlying premise of how we challenge ourselves to learn, grow, and adapt is very relatable.

Fast forward to the end of 2011 just prior to my departure for Japan, and my cognitive cocktail of optimism/fear/excitement/curiosity/energy mixed with only a few weeks of Japanese language and culture lessons was just the fuel I needed to pack up my things, step on the plane, and start achieving some immeasurable professional and personal growth.

If I could, I would do it all over again, and I hope you take the chance if offered, too.

Finding Fuji

If I mention “Mt. Fuji” to someone in Japan, the immediate response is often one of smiles, favorable gasps, and expressions of elation. Indeed, Fuji-san (富士山), as the Japanese affectionately call it, is a true legend.

Umegawa in Sagami, part of Thirty-six Views of Mount Fuji
Umegawa in Sagami, part of Thirty-six Views of Mount Fuji
Mt. Fuji is the subject of many works of art, including the internationally-recognized “Thirty-six Views of Mount Fuji” woodblock print series by Katsushika Hokusai. According to a journalist at Modern Tokyo Times, Hokusai-san believed “Fuji was symbolic of eternal life, a goddess having deposited the elixir of life on the peak“; a quote which may inspire you to view the whole collection of prints. And, of course, Fuji-san appears on many souvenirs, dishware, postcards, t-shirts, and even on the package for the special sakura green tea I buy for my family around the holidays.

Common cloud formations and names, courtesy of the Fujigoko Tourist League
Common cloud formations and names, courtesy of the Fujigoko Tourist League
Actually seeing Mt. Fuji is an entirely different challenge, however. The top quarter is often shrouded in clouds, as the very cold temperatures at the summit mixing with the moisture in the prevailing winds creates a unique weather pattern. Since moving to Japan, I have tried repeatedly to see the symmetrical volcanic rim clearly, often to be disappointed by cloud cover, haze, building obstruction, or some other reason getting in the way. On any given day, hundreds of thousands will try to catch a view of Fuji-san, from as far away as downtown Tokyo to as close as the surrounding Five Lakes region formed from previous volcanic eruptions.

During this past weekend, Kristen and I set out on a journey to finally see “elusive Fuji-san” in all its glory. I’ll admit, it’s not easy to accomplish that task!

Thus begins Operation Finding Fuji:

Upon arriving in the slightly elevated city of Gora (500 meters above sea level) just outside Hakone around noon, the sky started to fill with clouds and the sun virtually disappeared. (This is generally how afternoons around Mt. Fuji end up.) The scenic train and cable car rides through the mountains made the journey well worth the time, and we decided to adjust the itinerary and see if the next morning yielded a better viewing result.

On Sunday, fueled with a belly full of tamagoyaki, shirauo, and tea, we rode a ropeway gondola and ascended to Owakudani (1,044 meters above sea level) while the morning air was still clear and crisp. The air had the distinct smell of sulfur dioxide being released into the air from the surrounding volcanic fumaroles. The conditions were perfect for accomplishing our goal. Upon walking to the crest of “Great Boiling Valley”, we struck gold. Victory!

Presenting the almighty Fuji-san, photographed yesterday:

Mt. Fuji

Daryl Donatelli

New Year, New Adventure

Happy new year!

After several weeks of — let’s call them “bustling” — preparations, I am starting my new assignment as an expat living in Tokyo, Japan. It should be quite the adventure, and I look forward to sharing the pictures and stories on this very web site. The language and cultural training have been going well, but I will still maintain a full reserve of Snickers bars in case I have trouble obtaining food.

Until then, be well and have a wonderful start to 2012!

Back from Hong Kong

I just returned from a business trip to Hong Kong and have started a photo gallery of the highlights. I worked hard and played hard, and tried to see a lot, as I doubt I’ll be on that side of the world again for a while!

From a sea of 300+ photos on my camera, I’ve tried to pick some of the best. It’s a work in progress, so expect more soon! Let me know your thoughts via the comments feature on this post.