My August Apartment

I said something yesterday about wanting to post daily until I leave, and I'm going to try to stick through with that. To be honest, I really don't feel like writing right now, but if I don't post today, then I won't post tomorrow, so I'm going to face the challenge and just write something.

You've missed out on the past four or five months of my life, so I'll try to give you a quick summary. Actually, I'm having trouble remembering. To make this easier, let's just focus on my apartment situation starting from the end of July when I got back to Japan.

In July, I landed in Osaka and was happy to be back. The air was hot and felt like the sauna of a Filipino sweatshop. Drunk businessmen were passed out on the streets, as others were being carried into cabs or having their backs patted as they vomitted into gutters. Yes, just the way I was told summer in Osaka would be.

I spent the first few days living on the floor of a Japanese friend's one-room apartment. I hate sleeping in the same room as other people - I have a ninja-like sense of the people around me, so if anyone's within sight, I can't relax. Despite this, I was happy to accept his generous offer of accomodations since I was on a new campaign of financial frugality for phase two of Japan (after having so carelessly wasted away all my money in phase one).

So, I set off on a search for a one-bedroom apartment. After a few horrendous options (one including a shared, coin-operated shower), I ended up settling with a clean, *newly-renovated* one-room apartment in Shinosaka. The Australian landlord assured me that everything was fresh and new and I reluctantly signed the steep $660 monthly lease. Actually, including deposits, I spent over $1500 of the $1700 I had in the bank on my first day in that new apartment. This was a big, big mistake.

The apartment didn't turn out to be so flawless. The air conditioning didn't work properly (NOT GOOD FOR AN ASIAN SUMMER), neither did the hot water, the drain in the bathtub, the electric stove, or the microwave. And the washing machine leaked all over the balcony. Despite the room being "furnished", it had no bed, so I slept on a comforter laid-out on the hardwood floor. And since the air conditioner didn't work, Japan's summer unbearability forced me to take cold showers at night and sleep completely naked to avoid the nightly risk of death.

Furthermore, the building manager (and other tenants) didn't like me. As the only foreigner in the building, I shook things up on my first night when I tried to hook up the overhanging lamp and inadvertently set off the building's fire alarm. Out of embarassment, I tried to hide in my room to pretend it wasn't me, but somehow, they figured it out and showed up at my door. They couldn't speak any English, so it was a rough conversation full of wild hand gestures, bowing and angry glares.

I lived directly across the street from a hospital, so in the middle of the night, a barrage of ambulence sirens would start wailing and I would wake up in a confused, naked state, covered in sweat and searching for my bottle of water. And picture this: living alone, no TV, no internet, no money. After two weeks, I could no longer afford the daily newspaper. Yes yes, life was terrible. I was determined to move out by the end of August.

To be continued...