A little off-topic but perhaps somewhat pertinent...does anyone here ever go walk past his/her original apartment in Japan?? The place it all started?
I have to admit, I do it every once in a while, maybe every other year, whenever it is I force myself to go back to Osaka. NOVA stuck me in shoebox 1K in some shithole cookie-cutter suburb just north of central Osaka. They probably paid around 25k/month and charged me 65k. I actually tolerated it for almost exactly a year before moving to another boring suburb into an absolute shithole building owned by some rich Japanese family that happily leased out their apartments to foreigners because no self-respecting Japanese would pay 55k to live there. But it was a large 2DK and I was all alone, so plenty of space and I no longer had to eat, sleep, smoke (I used to), masturbate and occasionally fuck in the same room. I was so fucking lazy I ended up staying there for my remaining years in Japan.
I have this recurring nightmare once or twice a year, where I wake up on the floor of that 2DK and the past nearly 14 years--coming home, getting on with life, having all these new careers and experiences, etc.--were just a dream, and it's 6:15am and a dreary gray morning and I've got to get up, shit, shower, shave, throw on my shirt and v-neck sweater and slacks and hop on my bicycle and rush to the train station because I can't be late for my 8am 2-nen listening comprehension class at the high school.
I think that's why I walk back to that old building when I'm back in Osaka, just so I can prove to my wary sub-conscience that I really don't live there anymore. I stand underneath the balcony and stare up for a few moments then walk back to the station. Not sure what the deal is but the landlord never rented that unit out again and it's been empty all these years. My MUJI drapes are still hanging on the windows, my Daiei clothesline is still hanging across the balcony, the old plant pot where I put out my cigarettes is still on the patio shelf and I can see my old "Hikari Fiber Internet" hardware coming out of the wall and dangling in the bedroom. Sometimes I'm tempted to let myself in (it's so easy to break into Japanese apartments) just to have an overdose of nostalgia. In Osaka, time really can stand still.