So, I am currently writing this in my first apartment. Ever. It's fantabulous (a portmanteau of, "fantastic" and, "fabulous" that I've been using for years. Let it be known here and now, oh future linguistic peoples, that I made it up! Or, at the very least, that I came up with it on my own, independent of any other source) and tiny, and I absolutely love it. I love my loft, and the death-defying climb up and down the ladder of death whenever I want to sleep. I love my tiny kitchen, and how I've finally rearranged things so that I can use both burners. I love my living area, and how my desk looked so useable this morning, but now looks like a disaster zone--complete with crying refugees (order now for one low price of 9.95). And above all, I love knowing that, no matter what, it's a place where I can really be alone.
That's not to say that there aren't problems; far from it. But most of these are familiar problems, such as bills and groceries, that I expected and knew full well how to deal with. In America. But this is Japan, where everything is different. As such, there have been some, shall we say, unexpected hiccups on the road to independence, mostly due to my cultural ignorance.
Bills
Bills, bills, bills; everyone has bills. I have bills. I've had bills. Bills are simple so long as you're smart. You just check a box, input some numbers, and then, suddenly, money magically flies away from your account every month to go where it's supposed to. It's simple, it's easy, and you only need to really worry once. In America. Here in Japan, there are two ways to pay bills: the way that I researched, and the way that it has turned out. From my research, it sounded simple: you take your bill to a convenience store, have them ring it up, pay the money, keep the receipt (just in case) and voila, you need not worry for another month. A bit more work than in America, but still bright and easy. That's not how my gas bill works. Imagine me, happily cleaning my apartment, when I am surprised by my doorbell ringing. "Oh, my friends," I say to the imaginary woodland critters gayly helping me clean, "I do so wonder who that could possibly be?" Away to the door I go, to find a small, Japanese woman, who takes one look at me, smiles knowingly, points to herself and says, "gas." I smile and nod, expecting a bill. She shows me a piece of paper; it looks odd. It does not have a bar code. After a few minutes of talking at me, and me getting more confused, she sighs, prints a receipt, and walks away. Confused, I none the less take the receipt to the nearest convenience store--the 7-11 down the way--with enough money in hand. I am then told that I need to take the bill to the bank. Shouldn't be too hard. Wrong, because I don't have a bank card yet. It's in the mail. Half an hour and three bank workers later, I leave the bank, bill still unpaid, because the charge to wire the money to the gas company would have been more than 50% of my total bill. Disheartened, I show the bill to one of my colleagues, and ask what I should do. She calls the company, and makes an appointment for them to come by so that I can pay my bill. The appointment is tomorrow, the money is waiting. I am sick and tired of bills.
Food
As many of my readers are aware, I am currently cooking illiterately. I do not speak Japanese, I do not read Japanese, and most of my amazing friends who do are an ocean away. Also, I refuse to bother my colleagues with such a simple problem as interpreting instructions! If it takes three weeks and three friends back home to decipher a box of pancakes, then so be it. However, though I am cooking illiterately, most of the food here is fairly easy to prepare. So easy, in fact, that once I figure it out (curse you, curry, I will best you yet) I can reliably make it. Simple, easy, and cheap. And it lasts, and lasts. But not forever, as I have found out. Even if you put it in the fridge, time takes its toll. Things rot, and nothing is more sad then preparing Okonomiyaki with carrot bits only to find that your carrot has magically metamorphosized [I like how it sounds better than the alternative, so sue me] into a new stage of life. It is like a free air freshener for your fridge, where free implies what you want to be of your fridge. And so, lesson is learned. Food may last a long time, but one had better use it or lose it; and in a world where food is the physical embodiment of a month of labor, rotting food is like a televangelist: sickly, oily, and a waste of money.
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Speaking of my fridge, I was deicing it the other weekend, and opened it up to find this:
But that's a bad picture. This one should better illustrate what it was, after I chipped it out:
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A Social Life
I am a hermit, by which I mean that I am an introvert who really likes his alone time. I can do people, I can be social and interact with people, but on the whole, it can be really exhausting. As such, having my own apartment is fantastic. I can do whatever I want, and be alone whenever I want. It's such a happy cocoon of solitude that I don't want to ever leave. Which is a problem. Don't get me wrong, I will always leave for work, which I love, but I have a hard time leaving for other things. Particularly if they involve people. I went to Tokyo today--it was a lot of fun, I got lost twice, and I found the Ikea of electronics--but it was a struggle to get out of my apartment this morning. Not because I didn't want to do my shopping, nor because I didn't want to see the sights. I didn't want to deal with people. I didn't want to stand on a train, or push through crowds, or be generally lost in the sea of humanity. I ended up doing all three of those things, and had a blast, but it was a struggle to take that first step. And that's what I need to work on. I could end up being very happy sitting in my apartment here, never leaving except for work, but then I wouldn't experience Japanese culture. I wouldn't really make any memories. I wouldn't see the wonders of the world. If I just wanted to sit at home, doing nothing, I could have stayed at home in the US. It would be far cheaper, and all of my stuff is there. But I didn't do that, I came to Japan. And, as such, I need to start pushing myself to get out a little more on the weekends; make some friends, learn some culture, and cultivate memories. And, going with a social life...
Night Life
Particularly noise. And, no, I'm not talking about parties, nor loud music, teenagers in general, or the sweet sound of traffic. I live in suburbia in an apartment complex inhabited by single workers; the parties tend to happen elsewhere, most of us only play our music loud because we can't hear it otherwise, the teenagers try to get further away from their parents before they do anything, and the traffic just doesn't exist by my apartment. No, I'm talking about these:
And these:
Standards
As I have mentioned, when you have your own apartment, you can do whatever you want whenever you want. Want to walk around nude? Go ahead. Want to burp and fart as you please? Do so with pleasure. Want to put up poster paper on the wall and use it to badmouth every single person who has ever said anything bad about you? Write away. But do keep in mind your standards. Yes, it is possible to do these things when you're alone and face no consequences--barring soon-to-be embarrassed unexpected guests--but keep in mind that humans are, by nature, creatures of habit. Had Bilbo tickled every fancy, Gandalf would have had his unexpected party at the home of a different hobbit. Likewise, if we choose to live with lower standards when alone in the comforts of our own home, that laxness will bleed into the rest of our lives. And, in many ways, that is good. Writing down the ways that someone can cause you problems can make one more candid in life, avoiding many problems by simply being honest and open. However, that candor can get a little grating; plus, by solely writing down what is wrong with people, we teach ourselves to be negative and only look for those aspects. Likewise, by walking around nude we can teach ourselves to be more comfortable with our bodies, but we can also become a little lax in our appearance. In all standards while alone, as in most parts of life, it is important to find a balance that you are both, a) comfortable with and, b) will allow you to still function unimpaired outside of your abode.
One final point to any intrepid adventurer out there: never be afraid to get lost, and if you do get lost, don't panic (note the big, friendly letters). Getting lost is part of exploration, because if you only stick with what you known, you'll never find your next gem. The first thing that you should do when it happens is find your barrings. Did you just get out of a station from an unfamiliar angle? Then where is the station. Looking for a specific store that you last saw at night? Look for any big or familiar land marks. If you can get yourself situated in relation to what you know, then you're more likely to be able to find either what you're looking for, or something better. The second thing that you should do is to remember where that landmark is, and never get separated from it. Think of it as a life-line--or a Golden Man, to use the Willamette term--that will always guide you back home. Now, the third thing: once you have yourself situated, pick a direction and go. Look for anything else familiar that you can use to triangulate the thing you're looking for. Don't be afraid if this takes a while, but use your logic: if you feel deeply that what you're looking for wasn't this far away, then turn back. Don't do the asinine man thing and keep going; you will just end up looking like a block headed tourist when you finally break down, ask for directions, and find out that it had just been around the corner from where you had started. Five miles away. Lastly, never lose your head. Even if you don't know where you are, odds are that those around you do. There are people all over the world willing and able to help a tourist in need. Plus, as any adventurer worth their salt knows, while the story of the destination may last a few minutes, the story of the journey can be three times as long and infinitely more entertaining. Well, this has been another adventure of the Austentatious; if you liked it, tell your friends; if you hated it, tell your enemies; and if you don't care either way, tell everyone.
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