The Even Greater Tokyo Region

New Year's Address

Drifter. Nomad. Wanderer. Vagabond. Vagrant. Hobo. Squatter. Tramp.

These are all accurate descriptions of me in 2008. I have had an incredible run, having abandoned my apartment almost half a year ago. Since then, I have lived in four different households with people who took me in as if I were family- especially the people who actually are my family already. As many good times as I've had, it has to stop sometime.

I have been looking for my own place in Leiden. Well, a "room" is all I can afford. Yes, I am downgrading from my giant 2 bedroom apartment in Japan, back to the world of student rooms, shared kitchens and shared bathrooms. However, in Holland, they don't make it easy. I remember my Auntie once saying "Holland is full". I never really knew what what that meant until I started room hunting.

To facilitate finding a place to live, the Dutch invented a thing they call "De Internet". The way it works is, it converts everything to Zero's and One's, and when you look for a room, it gives you the zeros. I was given a list of 20 websites for finding accommodation, each with their own convenient joining fees. When a room in your price range became available, you pay some money to send a reply, and if the other party is interested, they arrange a time to meet.

But not only do you meet your prospective housemates, but all the other applicants show up too, on the same evening. This is not due to poor planning, but incredibly, it is done on purpose. It is like blind date, speed dating version of The Bachelor reality TV show, combined with the classy-ness of the Jerry Springer Show. However, without subjecting yourself to this degrading process, you could never get a room.

My first interview evening came up. I found the apartment, a charming building with a cobblestone street one one side with shops like a 2nd hand bookshop and butchers at the ground floor and apartments above, and a quaint canal on the other side. Even as I climbed the almost vertical stairs to the 3rd floor of the decrepit building, I thought "I 'd live here". Apparently 15 other people also thought the same thing. So, in one room, we had 6 people interviewing 15 people for one small bedroom. Half an hour later, we had finished the self introductions, and they asked some questions.

"What music do you like?"

"Where would you take us on a date?"

"What kind of person are you like to live with?"

I mean, I'm not making this up, this could seriously been the script for a reality-TV dating show. The problem for me is, I am like a fine cheese. I might look off-putting, have a funny odour and a pale colour, and you have to get used to me slowly. I can't charm a roomful of strange people, unless somebody says "Does anyone know any cool card tricks?". Although, to be honest, that happens more than you'd think. Just not today. My cards stayed in my pocket. I just can't understand why they couldn't ask only the top few candidates to show up, because this way no-one really got to talk. When someone got the chance to talk, you could feel the unhealthy competition in the room. Maybe some people were just trying too hard, and it was coming off wrong.

I went home, in defeat. It is like going for your driver's license, you never pass your first time. Except for me, I passed both my license test first time (although I think I passed because my dad dropped me off and the tester happened to be the husband of an old colleague of his). The chances of finding a room like this were practically zero. It is such a stupid system. It is the Dutch way...

The next evening, I went back to Leiden for another interview evening. This time, there were only 6 applicants. Two were Chinese and couldn't speak Dutch, so to even the playing field, we all spoke English. I don't know if this was an advantage, or if I am charming to Dutch people when I speak English. All that matters is this: I got the room. In 2 weeks time, I will no longer be a drifter. I defied the odds by successfully finding a room so quickly, and in a way, it validates me leeching off those four households for the last 6 months. It says that I was a desirable flatmate. That I was doing those four households a favour by staying with them.

Mostly though, finding this student room gave me time to think about the amazing transformation this year. 7 months ago, I had no idea what I was going to do. The only thing I knew for certain was that I wouldn't be going to teach another year. I even went to a job fair in Tokyo in June, hoping to find a respectable job somewhere among the greasy yuppie types that are attracted to big city Japan. But there was nothing keeping me in Japan, and somehow, I wasn't worried.

Then, 7 months ago, I stumbled across a masters course in Art History at Leiden University. It was like finding out there is an alternate universe where everything is tailor-made especially for you. I always said that I would continue my studies after Japan, and here I could study exactly what I want to, specialise in Japanese art. And it gives me a chance to live in Holland, the country of my birth, the country which will pay me handsomely to be a student. That was the idea.

Of course, I never applied to the University until after I arrived. I had no idea how difficult it would be to find work until study started. How much paperwork and forms I had to fill out to become a student and start working, or even things so simple as opening a bank account, or how difficult it should have been to find a room. In this last year, I had one moment of clarity where I wondered why I wasn't at all nervous or worried about the future. It was on the aeroplane to Holland. It's true, I suffer from a rare condition where I can't produce the chemicals your body needs to feel angst.

Okay, that last sentence isn't true as far as I know, but when I look at this last year objectively, I can see how recklessly I came here. I have a blind faith that things will work themselves out. They always have. As long as you have sincere friends and/or family willing to help you, and you are willing to laugh at yourself - even when you are working as a mailman and you put letters in the letterboxes of a whole street before realising that you were in the wrong street - not much can go wrong.

I want to say thanks to everyone who has indulged my reckless attitude over the years. Someday I hope I'll stop, but for now I am back on my feet. And unless I am completely over my head with my study, this time next year, I will be a master. I know that won't change anything, and I'll be back to exactly where I started. I haven't really thought about what I'll do next, but somehow, I'm not worried.

Happy New Year!