Xavier and I found an affordable two-room apartment on the industrial side of town. It was on the second level of a six-unit complex. All the apartments’ sliding front doors opened onto the outside; a metal stairway led to the second story and a walkway was shielded from the elements by a corrugated overhanging roof. The structure was ferro-concrete and not very attractive. We lived across an alley from a metal scrap yard which–we would later discover–was owned by our downstairs neighbours.
Traditionally the sliding door to our house would have been made of rice paper and wood or bamboo and would have had no lock. But this being a big city in the 80s, our front door was metal and opaque glass and did come with a lock. As you entered our apartment, the first area you came into was the very small entry hall. This was just big enough for storing coats and umbrellas and taking off your shoes. There was not room for a bench. You just had to step out of your shoes, leave them facing back toward the door through which you’d come, and step into the slippers offered by the host.
This little room was separated from the next area (kitchen) by a sliding shoji-style door. Again, rice paper had been replaced by a sturdier material, such as opaque, textured glass.
In one corner of the kitchen was the sink and small, wall-mounted water heater–which you only turned on when you were about to need hot water. Every family fills a huge thermos dispenser with enough piping hot water each morning to provide for tea breaks through the day.
In the middle of the room was a kerosene heater to be used in the winter months. I think I remember a pantry taking up some of the space on one wall. There was a small stove and refrigerator.
Separating this area from the living/sleeping room was another sliding shoji-type door. This one had opaque glass where rice paper would have been in a truly traditional home. In the living room most families have an alcove or niche called a tokonoma where they hang a scroll with a seasonal poem calligraphied on it, or maybe put an ikebana arrangement or piece of art. They change these according to the season. It is the meditative and spiritual focal point of the room. Xavier and I did not do this.
Our landlady spoke no English. The first day we moved in, a friend came to interpret for us. After that, we were on our own with her. I picked up Japanese very fast and was soon able to understand about half of the things she tried to tell us. One day she came and explained to me that the tenants in one of her units had been taken to jail. They owed a lot of back rent, so she was keeping their things. She offered us anything we wanted from their stuff. In turn, I offered to spend two solid days working alongside her and her husband to get the place clean and ready for the next tenants. One of my chores was to get up on a ladder and clean the windows that the elderly couple could not reach.
Voila, we were now the proud owners of a kotatsu, two futon mattresses to sleep on at night, sheets, blankets and a few other household items. These futons are not what we call futons in the west. They are pliable enough to roll up and stuff into a special closet during the day, converting the room into a living room by day. Thank you, Komada San!
The main living / sleeping room had tatami mats on the floor. These are considered almost sacred by the Japanese; you never, ever step on them with shod feet. Never. I understood how serious a cultural taboo it would be to step on them with shoes when I was watching a cops and bad guys show on TV one day. The cops were giving chase. The criminal cut through someone’s house to get away, very quickly stepping out of his shoes before crossing the strangers’ tatami mats. The cops also ditched their nice dress shoes before racing through the house after the bad guys. Yep.
Speaking of TV, how did we get a TV? Again, I don’t know if the Japanese have gotten over this by now, but at that time they were, as a society, obsessed with having the latest and best version of any gadget or device. Also, yard sales were not a part of their culture and thrift shops were very rare. I saw one second-hand bicycle shop and a few antiques stores, but nothing like the flea markets and second-hand stores we have here. That means that an enormous amount of still functional stuff got put on the curb for hauling to the dump. A Japanese person would probably not want to be caught dead snooping through their neighbours’ trash for goodies, but I had no problem with that at all. We quickly scored: a small vacuum cleaner, a television set, and… this one took a lot of whining on Xavier’s part about how sitting on the floor was giving him back trouble…a nice wooden desk and chair for studying. We stuck it in the kitchen.
The living area had a nice wide closet area on one wall. The top part was for clothing and the bottom section was for stashing away the bedding during the day. In the far corner was the water closet. I call it that because it only housed a toilet and very small corner sink just big enough for wetting your hands. We had no bathtub and no shower.
I’ll tell you about going to the public baths next time.
I’m fascinated that the bad guys running from the police would stop and remove their shoes as they cut through someone’s home. Certainly, the taboo is one I have heard of, but I never knew just how strong it was.
I lived in Japan for a year, but I was only 8 at the time. We lived on a US Air Force facility, so while I did have exposure to Japanese kids–we played together after school–I was not immersed in the culture.
My favorite memory is octopus on a stick. Made everyone else in my family cringe, and I loved it.
Rick, I tend to do as the Romans when in Rome…and eat what they eat. Octopus on a stick sounds good to me! I had squid tempura on Friday, so there you go. K
What a story, Kelly. You were very brave. I am also wondering how you remember all of this. My memory of such things blurs and fades. You must have a fantastic memory, which is pretty cool. You absolutely should write a book, as I know that your Japanese adventure is just a small portion of your Life Adventure! xoO
I think one reason I can remember certain details is that I recounted them so often after returning. Also I kept a journal. Although it’s long since been destroyed, perhaps writing these things down at the time helped seal them in memory. Yesterday when I was talking to my friend’s daughter, I remembered that when I was in Japan, I had a purple pen case, purple notebook paper and purple pens that wrote in purple ink. K
What an interesting post, Kelly! I loved hearing about your living arrangements in Japan and I’m going back to previous post to read the first part. I think I need to boil water and store it in a thermos for use throughout the day as it would sure save on electricity….I drink A LOT of tea! WOW on the cop show and the respect of both criminal and policemen for the tatami mats. I’ll look forward to the next post on Japan. :)
Yes, Serena, they use a very tall thermos with a spigot. You press a button and out comes piping water when you need it. It stays hot most of the day. K
So, you DO have an amazing memory! xoO
Do I? My short-term memory is terrible. I forgot today where I parked my car even though it could only have been one of two streets. I walked right past it to the second street, and then had to come back again. K
I’ve never been averse to starting a queue when a skip is being filled.
Sometimes it’s possible to have an organised queue too, with people saving places for each other.
Oh, the delights of being British !
Well, I had to look up “fill a skip,” but now I get it. Good old Internet. K
Oh, by the way, very informative video link about the baths. Thanks for that Kelly. :D
You got a lot of good INFORMATION out of it, I’m sure. ;)
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