An Otaku Wanders to the End of the World: My Retirement Dream by Lake Tekapo

Yesterday on Facebook, I saw an old friend enthusiastically detailing his grand retirement dreams. Those words acted like a gravitational pull, instantly whisking my memories back to backpacking across New Zealand’s South Island years ago.

At that time, I was riding an intercity bus along the winding South Island highways until a sudden view caught my breath—Lake Tekapo. The sheer visual impact remains vividly etched in my mind. The water glowed with an otherworldly turquoise blue, framed against distant snow-draped alpine peaks, breathtaking beyond words. In that exact moment, I genuinely fantasized about finding a quiet timber cabin along the lakeshore after retirement, living in secluded peace away from the world.

Of course, as a seasoned otaku, my “ideal life” came with non-negotiable specifications. That lakeside cabin must feature a massive deep freezer and—above all else—a rock-solid, high-speed wireless internet connection.

After all, even when an otaku wanders to the literal ends of the earth, he remains an otaku at heart.

Coincidentally, the very day after reading my friend’s post, the Facebook algorithm surfaced a post I had written two years earlier:

“I cannot recall when this thought first took root, but a persistent notion began lingering in my mind: I yearn for a life in the remote wilderness sustained solely on coffee beans, flour, and fresh eggs.

If memory serves, this idea stemmed from a National Geographic documentary. It profiled a hermit living in a cave deep within the mountains of southern France, embracing extreme minimalism. Yet what caught my eye most was that even this hermit used a Brita water filter pitcher!

Later, I realized my grocery wishlist needed milk too. And, of course, the absolute lifeline for any otaku: blisteringly fast Wi-Fi.

Human desires truly are bottomless.”

Revisiting these two reflections from different chapters of my life made me chuckle. Whether set in a lakeside cabin in New Zealand or a mountain cave in southern France, my core prerequisites have never shifted.

I began to realize that I could thrive in virtually any corner of the globe. Deep in ancient forests or standing at ocean’s edge, as long as there is an uninterrupted supply of three staple provisions—coffee beans, flour, eggs (and perhaps fresh milk)—I can establish my world.

Life can truly be that simple: as long as the soul is nourished by coffee and simple meals, and the intellect remains plugged into the universe via high-speed internet, any sanctuary on earth can become my utopia.