randomberries

I know this would be one of my grandest quests once I arrived in Tokyo: finding a place to live.

With my best friend Google, I have spent many hours over the internet and quizzed many Tokyo friends / acquaintances in search of the perfect neighbourhood and the perfect apartment, close to convenience and my workplace. I looked at many listings, created a beautiful Google Spreadsheet shortlisting the ones I like, identified my favourite suburbs, and braced myself to live in a tiny space (20-25m²).

Here are my expectations: A sun-filled and airy South-facing apartment with a cute sleeping loft, large glass sliding door to a balcony, and wooden floorboards. Extra points for exposed timber beams / columns. The unit shall be in one of my shortlisted hipster and ultra-instagrammable areas where I will live happily surrounded by lots of plants and other artistic types.

In short, I want this apartment (nevermind the carpet):

Credit: iiimono. Go see his Instagram! He’s moved to an even more gorgeous apartment.

Did I mention that my budget is a bit low?

I was okay-ish with my temporary unit settled by my company, which was livable but not perfect and in no way hipster. I had made up my mind to find a better place and move.

Sooo…. On Day 3 in Japan, I met with one real estate agent. After talking for a while, we shortlisted 20 something apartments and agreed to meet at a later time to see how things progressed. Twenty something! I was positive and hopeful! So many choices!

How naive. I am a gaijin (foreigner) and I speak no Japanese. Since it is also high moving season for the Japanese, my competitions were at better odds than me.From twenty something, only two were available for me. Um… okay.

The real estate agent continued, due to the fact that:

1. I could find my way around;
2. I have a working mobile phone; and
3. I am a structural engineer and therefore appreciative of buildings

… They trusted me enough to do MY OWN inspections. Unaccompanied.

I didn’t know how to react; to be proud of my trustworthy self or to conclude that they’re a bit lazy??

Anyhoowww.. it turned out to be quite a fun adventure. Armed with maps and the agent’s phone number I went on to do my own inspections. Once I reached the front door; I called the agent for instructions and pass codes to open the key / mailbox / door. Then I rode the elevator up, and called them again to open the next key.  I must take off my shoes while inside, not use any water / toilet, and not break anything.

Navigating these pretty suburbs that I saw so often only on Google Maps and finally saw in reality, in a foreign country where I could not read nor communicate, I felt like James Bond on an important mission or a solo Amazing Race contestant. It felt pretty good!

Look! A random flower shop at Meidaimae.


Afterwards I mentioned this self-apartment inspection to a friend, and she said that was VERY weird even by Japanese standards. Ah…

Anyway I didn’t end up taking those two places. Cute suburbs but the living spaces are so small! Most of the already small space was taken by spacious corridor, separate bathroom and toilet, kitchen, leaving the bedroom / living space tiny)

I wasn’t daunted. There would be more apartments to search… Right?

People closest to me would know that when I am hungry, I could turn ugly. Therefore one thing I take extra care here is to always eat well to avoid hangriness, keep my spirits up, and keep healthy. I find that in Tokyo, you can really get by without cooking, especially that my neighbourhood is littered with cheap random eateries that tastes good and convenient stores everywhere.

Even though it’s not always straightforward to buy - I couldn’t manage to buy food from one of those ticket machines and had to sheepishly asked help from the guy behind me, as the queue had suddenly grown long. I was rewarded with a very delicious yet affordable bowl of rice, salmon, and ikura. Life seemed full of win.

But after a few days my mouth felt laden with MSG and I started feeling uneasy. I started playing Mum and told myself that I need something fresh. Milk. Fruit. Vegetables. Home-cooked meals. Simply, I have to cook.
So this was when I ventured out to the supermarket with one simple mission. The vegetables and fruit section was kind of fun. I was happy to see cheap Asian mushrooms, marveled the many types of fishes and roe and ready-to-eat dishes. But, no, I am a proper adult and I will cook my own food.

Then, it’s time for basic pantry ingredients…. I was not mentally prepared for what to come: rows and rows of colorful intimidating bottles, no English. Why is everything in Kanji?

I am a proud person who likes to think that I am quite independent… so I did what any other tech-reliant Gen-Y would do: whipped out my phone, opened the voice translate app, and started commando-ing: Salt. Pepper. Oil. Soy sauce. The app dutifully spat out the kanji.  

….. Nothing seemed to match. Too many words. Too many bottles. I started to get really hungry. It all got kind of overwhelming as panic started to set in.

Never in my life have I felt so relieved to see a Caucasian woman… I desperately pleaded her to please help me find such and such. Bless her, kind woman with European accent who walked through the two aisles to help and even showed me sugar as a bonus. God bless you.

I didn’t cook that night. I bought a prepared bento instead.

But on the next visit to the supermarket, I have come prepared. On a scrap paper I’ve written down the English, kanji, and romaji pronounciation. I was not in a hungry state. I was cool, calm and collected. The supermarket music / theme song was like an arcade game theme, cute and adventurous, cheering me on.

I found sesame oil and oyster sauce ON MY OWN. I made my first dish that day.

This… maybe is just a humble bowl of quick pork and vegetable dish. It didn’t even taste that great… in fact my cooking will probably all taste the same since I have very limited pantry ingredients. But to me, this is a symbol of perseverance, hard work, and sweet, sweet victory.

Lesson learnt. Being proud isn’t the best course. It’s very humbling to realise that one can’t always be self reliant all the time… Sometimes it’s easier to just ask. People are nice here after all…. But it still feels pretty darn good to be independent.

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A few weeks later, as a more experienced home cook I made nikujaga (beef and potato stew). Here's my extremely small kitchen bench top in Tokyo. One stove top burner is the norm here, two is amazeballs, three and above is luxury.