No Place Like Home
Recently I've been reading in my newspaper about
the problems sometimes faced by foreigners trying to rent
accomodation here in Japan. Although I realize that some people have
difficulties with this, my experience has been quite different. When
I was trying to find a place to live, the real estate agent I
contacted was open and friendly, even though my Japanese was at the
time extremely rudimentary. She showed me a number of units, and I
was able to choose from among them. It was a 3DK (three rooms plus
dining_kitchen) that I was interested in, and after a reasonably
priced area had been found, the choice came down to things like
sunshine in the rooms, and access to shopping. I selected a unit,
paid the necessary deposit and key money, and my family took
possession, one of the first tenants in a newly-erected
building.
Although I had previous to this, visited Japanese
homes and apartments on a number of occasions, this was my first
experience of actually living in such a space. The most overwhelming
initial impression was of course the scale - the miniature size of
nearly everything. Doorways, countertops, light switches ...
everything seemed to be designed for use by children. Do you remember
that big upset some years ago when that European diplomat called
Japanese homes 'rabbit hutches'? To my mind, I would call them 'doll
houses'!
Although the historical reasons for Japanese
houses being small and cramped are easily understandable, that they
should still be built on this scale in the 1990's is a bit of a
puzzle. As is readily apparent the moment one steps onto a morning
train full of school students, modern Japanese are very different
from their parents, being in most cases a good head taller. But
buildings are still being constructed for the most part on the old
traditional patterns. I don't think it is only foreigners like me who
walk around with a crease across their forehead where the low
doorways have 'suprised' us ... It is young Japanese too. And not
only the boys!
One of my relatives is in the house construction
business, and I remember asking him about this a few years ago. He
could only shrug his shoulders ... they just simply followed the old
systems. No single company could handle this situation. To change
would mean upsetting the entire industry. It's not just a simple
matter of raising the height of a doorway, for example. As the rest
of world discovered during the changeover to using the metric way of
measurement, things are just so intertwined that it becomes necessary
to alter the entire system. I suppose the changeover will only be
made when enough of these young giant boys start working as
architects and designers.
Other than this question of scale, the next strong
impression my new apartment made on me was the way it forced us into
a kind of 'togetherness'. If I sit say, at the dining table, I can
see into every room of the apartment. At any given moment, all of us
know where the other family members are, and what they are doing. The
idea of 'personal privacy' is simply non-existent. Other than the
rather useless solitude obtained sitting on the toilet, privacy can
only be found in 'time' - by choosing moments when other family
members are absent, when kids are at school, or in bed, etc. Each
area of the apartment must not only serve different functions during
the course of a day ... sleeping, eating, playing, etc., but must
also serve different people, at different times. It is actually a
very efficient system, provided one has the discipline to accept the
required strict routine and order.
I guess our family does, as we're still living in
the same place, eight years down the road. My two daughters have
spent the greater part of their lives in these rooms, and I suppose,
for better or worse, their personalities have been shaped to quite
some degree by this place. Do two kids who sleep side by side, study
side by side, play side by side, and bathe side by side, have a
different relationship than two who have private rooms for these
functions? Surely they must. I must admit I can't say 'better' or
'worse', but it must certainly be different. If a future generation
of Japanese children is brought up in bigger homes, everybody with
their own room, American-style, will it drastically alter the
national character? I am sure it will, presumably in the direction of
increasing individualism, a movement that is already well under way
here ...
But that is for the future. What of the here and
now? How is it that a Canadian like myself, brought up in a series of
pretty large homes, has been able to live for so long in this
restricted space? I have thought a lot about this, and can only
conclude that it must be that my generally quiet, non-assertive
nature is basically suited to this kind of place. I can't pretend
that there have been no stresses and strains in these rooms during
the eight years, but all in all, we seem to have arrived at a
comfortable balance. I suppose that we have been shaped or molded by
this space. It has dictated a certain way of living to us, and we
have absorbed this. And actually, I think I would feel quite
uncomfortable if we were suddenly transported into a large-scale
'Canadian' house. "Himi, where are you ...?" Surely, it would be too
quiet. There must be vague noises from distant parts of the building
as people go about their business. It might be rather unsettling
...
I just have to admit, although Canadian friends
probably won't believe it, that I've now become completely
'programmed' to match this Japanese living space. I don't envy them
at all their wide rooms, their tall doorways, their large gardens,
their spacious kitchens, their multiple bathrooms, their huge
basements, their ...
Well, not much. But you know, I do have one thing
they don't have. From my balcony, early on winter mornings, if I lean
out a bit, stand on tiptoes, and stretch to the right ... there it
is! The very top of white snow-capped Fuji-san! So there!