浜田-shi or Hamada City is on the western side of Shimane prefecture. It has a population of just over 60,000, a big chunk of that old people, and a Wiki entry that pretty much includes all I just typed and some more. Hooray for the internet to pick up where laziness leaves off. My Board of Education also made extra sure to provide me all sorts of pamphlets, maps, calendars, and area guides giving vivid & fully illustrated descriptions, of varying usefulness, about my new place of residence. One of the Hamada tourist booklets has a cover that proudly touts the slogan “Blue Sea. Green Earth. Radiant People… A City Steeped in Culture. ” What an occasional and flattering thing to be told how radiant you look this evening, and how even better to know that you are surrounded by 60,000 people who’ll glow all day long while soaking together in heritage like so many beautiful bags of tea. Guess they put me in the right place.

Anyhow, I have decided that I like it here. There is most certainly a sea and some very close by points at which to approach and gaze at salted water, small rivers that run through the city with comparably small bridges for me to cross over them, and mountains blanketed in trees in the background almost anywhere I look that’s not the ocean. The people here are nice in that overgeneralized Japanese-people-are-so-polite! sort of way, but I think it also helps that we coexist in a small town only mild concerned about crime and crazies. Even if a bit of both still exists. However, no more big city paranoia to keep me up at night. Maybe my only major worry comes from tiny mosquitos (蚊, “ka”) buzzing around and covering me with bumps like no American 蚊 could ever do. I especially hate having that whiny buzz in my ear wake me up in the middle of the night. Shudder.

Now, we discuss my new home… The Box 2.0 (Thanks, Wendy!).

So, as luck would have it, space-wise, no upgrade for me. Sigh. However, I’m still right in the center of town, more or less, and close to work (though living pretty much anywhere in Hamada feels like close to work). It’s a one person apartment that includes an open kitchen area, a six tatami living/sleeping area, a pod bathroom, and a small balcony where I can hang my laundered clothes. There’s even an associated parking spot outside… if only I had a car to claim it as mine.

The picture above is my living/sleeping area. You can see the traditional tatami flooring and paper sliding doors. My BOE was gracious enough to provide me all new tatami mats, so for the first month or so, every time I opened my door and hollered “I’m home!” I was greeted with a thick steamed cabbage-like aroma that then clung to my clothes and bags when I’d leave for work the next morning.

Did I mention how hot and humid the summer weather is in Hamada? Summers in Japan are freakin’ hot and humid, and in just the right way to cook up any organic matter you might leave out. For that reason, there are mighty concerns in this country about mold growing in your house, especially under tatami. That’s why Japanese people get in the habit of airing out their futons during the day after rolling around on ‘em all night long on the floor. Alas, you don’t also pull out your tatami. They do sell all sorts of special cleaning sprays at the home goods stores to help delay the tatami rotting process. Should try to make that shopping trip one of these days.

But, yes, matter-of-factly speaking, everything about this new apartment is small, small, small. At least it turned out I didn’t need to bring much to get life started. The shelving in the apartment was actually built by my very crafty JET predecessor from New Zealand. She also made tons of clothes (or I should say “heaps” rather, like the Kiwis and Aussies do… she made heaps of clothes) , artwork, and various other crafts during her year living here, so hopefully I inherit some creative vibes with the homestead.

All my kitchenware came with the kitchen. It seems that any household necessity you can think of is a miniaturized and in most cases plasticized version of what you’d see in America. I have no full-sized oven, but a microwave/toaster oven and a broiler compartment inside my stovetop. The size of the kitchen units go well with the small food portions you typically buy at the grocery store; it seems the culture is based on daily meal planning rather than weekly, so that’s probably where some of the hype about how expensive it is to live in Japan comes from. I’m finding out that the idea of high cost really depends on what expenses you compare, like pasta sauce or gasoline, especially if you come from a big city. One fascinating-for-a-while concept for me was how fish is cheaper than chicken here. I’ll just splurge on the corn shells and salsa and start busting out some fish tacos.

My bathroom is quite literally a linoleum pod. I do at least have a Western-style toilet, no squatter for me, thankfully, though sadly no bidet or ass-jet function either like at Keio Hotel. Aw. The space in my personal loo is cramped, but at least it works. I’ll settle for that.