'A Place Called Home'

a.k.a.
A little bit of Tokyo all my own!
a.k.a.
Merry Christmas Eve!

After four weeks of listening to the same damn pan flute tune every night, of trekking down two flights of stairs to get to the shower/decent toilet, of sharing facilities with 70 strangers, of hitting my head on the top bunk, of the girl down the hall practising opera really loudly every morning, of people vacuuming at 2am, of listening to my French neighbour snore through my wall or my other neighbours stomp down the hallway… I have moved to my own apartment!

I love it. It is more space solely my own than I have ever had. I could put up shitloads of naked Harry Potter fan art if I wanted. (I won’t, though…) I could pick a character and cover every single surface with its face – Snoopy, Rilakkuma, Care Bears, Anpanman, or of course the ubiquitous Hello Kitty. (Doubt I’ll be doing that, either.) I could walk around naked for days on end, eat a bunch of peanuts and throw the shells on the ground, or sing show tunes at the top of my lungs. Point is – I’ve never had a place of my own before. I’ve never had a mailbox for just my mail, or a kitchen where all the food in the cupboard is mine (or rather, where the lack of food in the cupboard is solely my fault). Not that I don’t like shared living, I love it – but this is something totally new and exhilarating for me.

My toilet has a button that puts the seat up/down for you. There is also the bidet and seat-warming functions, although I’m yet to brave the former. My lights are remote controlled. With fancy dimmer functions for mood lighting. And I thought I’d need to buy a lamp – ha! Just press a button and BAM! Romantic lighting. Fluorescent lighting. No lighting. Awesome.

I’m glad I moved before Christmas. Actually, I’m glad about a lot of things.

***
It’s Christmas Eve. Christmas spirit is rampant here. I’ve seen about twenty different people in Santa-themed costumes today (as well as a cow and a Pikachu) and have heard almost every carol known to man. All day I’ve seen crowds lined up to buy tiny roast chickens, or gorgeous cakes with holly and strawberries on top.

On the way home tonight, I bought two pieces of fried chicken from two girls dressed as Mrs Claus. They were camped outside the Family Mart near where I live, and they had a little set-up complete with carols, a selection of Christmas cakes, and colourful signs. I wasn’t planning to buy any, but they were just so damn enthusiastic – waving their little sign by the side of the road, yelling and jumping around. How could I not buy some greasy deliciousness from them? I had managed to successfully breeze past every other vendor selling chicken/Christmas cakes/confectionery of the holiday kind/general cheer up to that point, too. Even the two girls outside CoCo, who instead of playing Christmas carols were playing the soundtrack to High School Musical 3 (do not even ask why I can recognise it). But these two girls… they were clearly having a great time, and didn’t care that they had to dress up as Mrs Claus and scream at the top of their lungs for several hours. It kinda made me smile. And it kinda made me want chicken.

Christmas in Japan is such a funny thing… but more on that another time.

***
All I want for Christmas is:

• Lomo camera
• Awesome sneakers I saw the other day
• Jalapeno poppers (Um, how have I never had these before?! Jalapenos stuffed with cream cheese and then deep-fried? Shit yes!)
• The Legend of Zelda: Spirit Tracks
• Japanese ability
• Hugs from my friends and family
• Really, really cheesy lasagne
• A really, really cheesy Christmas movie
• Pie of any kind – I’m thinking apple, or a really good pumpkin
• Direction in life
• A sense of direction

***

Merry Christmas!