I am living in a pit
A few days ago, I moved into the latest in my string of temporary residences: a "gaijin house", which is Japan-based English-speaker English for "guest house aimed at (or restricted to) foreigners". It's a fairly large two-story building with five bedrooms, one kitchen and one bathroom on each floor. I am paying 50,000 yen per month for the right to live in a room that smells curiously of leather and is seven square meters in size.
The deposit, though, was only 30,000 yen, and 20,000 of that is refundable (allegedly), so it's not really that bad a deal.* Right now, money is more important to me than comfort, and it's not like I'm going to be home all that much given my new job and easy access to the Yamanote line.
The strange thing is that my street is lower than both the one before and the one behind. And I mean a lot lower. I live on the second floor, and when I open my window I'm still slightly below ground level of the street behind. So, I'm either living in some extremely fiercely eroded but long-dead river channel... or in the only barely metaphorical jaws of an old earthquake rift, all set to swallow this building whole when The Big One hits.
I imagine that it is the housemates that make or break a place like this. So far I've met three of the other four people on my floor, and they all seem either cool or happy to keep to themselves, and that works for me too.
* Please do not comment to tell me how bad a deal it is, unless you also have the means to hook me up with a better one.
Anonymous:
Is that like a British second floor, or an American second floor?
I see you've taken steps to ensure that all commentators either know some Japanese or are unafraid to stab at links they don't understand.