How I Got My Japanese Driver's Licence (The Hard Way)

I drove in the Philippines for many years. City traffic, long road trips, the occasional white-knuckle on EDSA at rush hour.

I knew how to drive. That part was never the issue.

The issue was that my Philippine driver’s licence had quietly expired while I was living in Japan. I hadn’t needed a car. Tokyo’s transit system spoils you into forgetting that cars exist.

By the time I wanted to drive again, the licence was long gone. The conversion route requires a valid foreign licence, so that door was closed.

So I had to start from scratch. Completely. From zero.

Things I learned the expensive way

Getting a licence from scratch as a foreigner while working a full-time job leaves two real options: enrol in a formal driving school, or take a prep program and handle the licence centre yourself.

I went to the latter after finding EDS Japan. On paper it made sense. The curriculum and mock exams are online, plus practice driving with a coach who gives real-time feedback.

EDS are genuinely nice people, and their coaching was solid.

But the administrative weight is what I underestimated. The trips to the licence centre, the paperwork, navigating the system. The interpreter cost every single visit. The paid holidays burned on exam days. It’s the kind of thing that’s easy to overlook when you’re comparing prices upfront.

In hindsight, an English-friendly formal driving school would have been the smarter call for me. But I know that recommendation isn’t for everyone. Those schools are expensive, sometimes shockingly so.

If the budget isn’t there, the budget isn’t there. I’m not here to tell anyone how to spend their money.

What you need before your first visit to the licence centre

You can’t walk in cold. Gather everything below before booking your first appointment.

Document	Where to get it	Notes
Residence Card	Your wallet	Must have 3+ months of validity remaining
Residence Certificate	Ward office (city hall)	Takes ~10 minutes, costs a few hundred yen. Get it within a week of your appointment.
Passport photos × 2	Photo booth or convenience store	Exactly 3cm × 2.4cm
Glasses or contacts	—	Only if you need vision correction to drive
Previous foreign license	—	Even expired. Bring it anyway.

What Samezu actually looks like

I went to Samezu in Shinagawa. It’s close to where I work and one of several licence centres across Tokyo.

The written exam is available in English, which helped. But the counter staff, the announcements, and the signage: all Japanese. My Japanese wasn’t strong enough at the time, so I needed someone next to me at every step.

If yours is solid, you might be fine on your own.

I also used paid holidays each time. The centre isn’t open on weekends for tests, so every exam attempt meant a day off work.

The two stages, laid out clearly

Getting a Japanese licence from scratch has two distinct stages, separated by weeks of waiting between reservations.

From first payment to licence card in hand: five months for me. That’s on the faster end.

Many people take longer, especially if exam slots are scarce or retakes pile up. I had an advantage: years of driving experience in the Philippines meant the practical skills were already there. I just had to learn the Japanese system on top of them.

Stage 1-A and 2-A: the written exams

Both written tests draw from one source: The Master of Your Driving, the official textbook published by Toyota Nagoya Education Center. It comes in English and Japanese editions. Read it cover to cover, and you’ll have the theoretical knowledge you need.

You can preview the textbook online through the TNEC library site. But you’ll want a physical copy to study from properly. This book and a set of mock exams were included in the EDS Challenger Plan.

I’ve heard other schools provide them too once you sign up for a package.

The book alone isn’t enough. The questions are trippy: lots of trick questions and reading comprehension traps that test how carefully you read, not just what you know. I didn’t fail either written test, but many people do.

Mock exams are essential to get used to the format. The style is its own skill.

Stage 1-B: the indoor course exam

Stage 1’s practical is built around a scoring system that rewards precision and safety habits. You start at 100 points and need 70 to pass. Deductions come in increments of 5, 10, or 20 points depending on severity, and a handful of mistakes end the exam immediately regardless of how many points you have left.

The person in the car with you is a licence centre examiner, not a police officer. They sit quietly, mark your score, and say very little beyond the occasional direction.

I failed this once. One mistake: I drove the wrong way. My Philippine driving instinct kicked in.

In the Philippines, you take the rightmost lane when turning right. I did the same thing here without thinking. Japan drives on the opposite side, so that move is considered dangerous.

Instant fail. I passed on my second try.

Stage 2-B: the on-road exam

Before booking this exam, you need to complete a mandatory safety seminar at a certified driving school. It runs roughly half a day, around 5 to 6 hours in my experience. I took mine at Yokohama Driving School, which is close to Samezu.

The seminar is conducted entirely in Japanese, and interpreters aren’t permitted. You go through it as-is.

Stage 2’s practical uses the same 100-point scoring system, but the environment is no longer controlled. In my case, I was driving through the streets of Shinagawa: office workers, trucks, bicycles, pedestrians, cars, and cabs.

The exam starts before you get in the car. A short warm-up drive of about 100 meters comes first. That portion doesn’t count toward your score.

Driving in Japanese

The exam gives you one direction at a time, in Japanese, and the examiner won’t repeat it. I needed to hear a word and react, not translate it in my head first.

So I learned the words. Intersections are numbered too. During the indoor course you’ll hear “1番” (ichiban) and up depending on the course layout. Most courses have around 10 to 15 numbered positions, but the count varies by centre.

Traffic lights and speed matter too. The examiner might say “shingō” to reference a turn at the lights, or call out a speed like “yonjū kiro”. That’s your cue to hit the minimum for that stretch of road.

You don’t need fluency, but you need to recognise each one on the spot. I drilled them on commutes, in the shower, during walks. It felt absurd studying direction words like flashcards for a school quiz. But there was no other way.

What it costs

The fees at the licence centre are the cheap part. What nobody mentions upfront are the costs that accumulate around them.

What I’d tell myself

I’d pick a different path next time. If you can get into an English-friendly driving school, do it. The price feels steep until you factor in the interpreter fees, the paid holidays, and the time it takes to figure out a system that wasn’t designed with you in mind.

Getting the licence felt like a win. And it was. But it was also one of the more exhausting bureaucratic experiences I’ve had in Japan, and I’ve had a few.

Now I’m ready for the good part. Summer trips with my wife and our dog, packing the car and going somewhere just because we can. That was the whole point.

The licence was never the reward. The scenery will be.