As far as icebreaker questions go, “where do you live” is one of the classics as the answer can reveal as much as it provokes while still being socially appropriate in most contexts. In my case, the answer: “A sharehouse in Itabashi-ku”, usually draws the following responses.
“You must have saved a lot of money right?”
“Ah, Iidabashi right?” (a much more centrally located area in Tokyo)
“How many people live in the sharehouse?”
The conversation then usually proceeds to an inordinately intimate (and sometimes graphic) discussion about what sharehouse living is like, the good the bad and the ugly. So much so that my newfound acquaintances don’t forget “the guy who live in the sharehouse in the sticks where [insert fairly incriminating events happen]”.
So here is a much blander version of the conversation, which I hope you will still remember anyway.
My first (and many others’ too) of a sharehouse came from the hit reality TV series Terrace House. In each season, three men and three women (all strangers from different walks of life) temporarily live in a tastefully furnished landed property, which may not necessarily be eponymous. There, they live together and some go on to date one another. It’s purportedly unscripted in the sense that there aren’t any outwardly staged events or forced pairings and the participants are free to live their lives. All while under the watchful eye of strategically-placed cameras in the house. Be that as it may, I found myself enchanted by breezy camaraderie that only the young, attractive and unjaded can have.
As far as advertisement for sharehouse living in Japan go, this takes the cake. Hitherto, I had considered living by myself in one of those shoebox (approximately 20m2, with all the amenities you need) apartments that are littered all over Tokyo. But with this new fantasy of being part of the main cast in my own rendition of Terrace House, I narrowed my search exclusively for sharehouses.
Plus, being a foreigner fresh out of university with no plans set in stone, there are other more pressing concerns that support the case for sharehouse living.
1. Save Money
Japan may be classified as a developed economy but it is also notorious for the relatively low salaries (and high taxes) that makes working in Japan a poor proposition for a graduate from Singapore. This is especially true for fresh graduates, even those applying to top local banks in such inflationary times. Mizuho, the nation’s third-largest bank, said it will boost monthly salaries for college graduates joining in April 2024 to ¥260,000 (S$2,360) a month, up from ¥205,000 currently. In comparison, a graduate joining DBS, Singapore’s largest bank, is said to offering around S$5,000 for its graduate program. This is before accounting for the higher taxes and miscellaneous charges in Japan, and the Central Provident Fund contribution requirement (an additional 20% on top of base salary), that employers in Singapore are obliged.
No matter the non-pecuniary reasons for coming here, I was not prepared to be asking my parents for an allowance as a working adult. While the monthly rent for a sharehouse may not be only 20% cheaper than studio apartments of similar condition in the same area, the initial costs are a lot lower. Placing a deposit of a month’s worth of rent is a common practice worldwide. That’s not enough in Japan however; most landlords of rental apartments traditionally require a payment of “key money” equivalent to a month or two’s worth of rent as well. And what is this “key money” – the common English translation of 礼金 (reikin) – you may enquire.
It is nothing but an extortion of additional rent, purportedly as a token of appreciation to the landlord for his/her kindness in leasing their property to you.
As a tenant, this is definitely a part of Japanese culture which I do not quite appreciate.
On top of that, there are also property agent fees, guarantor fees (yes, you need to pay an entity who is willing to guarantee your rent payments lest you abscond), fire insurance and change of lock fees. Altogether, you could be looking at 5 months’ worth of mostly-irrevocable rent payments even before you step foot into an empty apartment.
To fill the apartment with the comforts of modernity then calls for a couple more hundreds or thousands of dollars. Even before drawing my first month’s paycheck, I could already be down by more than half a year’s worth of salary.
A sharehouse, on the other hand, has much lower barriers to entry. The total initial costs – a deposit and a cleaning fee – amount to slightly more than half a month’s worth of rent. The private room which I contracted for comes with its own bed, desk, chair, open wardrobe and even a refrigerator. The unlimited use of shared facilities, ranging from all-in-one ovens to separate washing and drying machines, and amenities such as sofa and large-screen TV with a fully paid for NHK subscription, is also included.
In most cases as well, the rent for a sharehouse covers the tenant’s share of utility bills and weekly housekeeping. Notwithstanding the moral hazard that this creates, I must say that this arrangement has been very convenient for this introvert who gets to work from home.
So yes, I guess I can save a lot of money. Whether I do though is a whole separate matter altogether.
2. Stay Flexible
In Japan, most contracts come with a 2-year lease. Early termination normally requires at least a month’s notice and may result in a forfeit of the deposit. In the case of contract renewal, the tenant usually has to fork out another month’s worth of rent as a “renewal fee” as well as pay for another 2-year’s worth of fire insurance. On the bright side, rent increases are rare for residential properties (because on the not-so-bright-side, wages have not been rising enough for landlords to reasonably pass on rent hikes).
Sharehouse living comes with lesser commitment. At the point of signing, tenants are obliged to stay for at least 3 months, though I have had neighbors who stayed only for a month. The contract duration is only for 6 months, after which an offer of contract renewal comes. Termination of lease requires only a month’s notice with no penalties. For someone who wasn’t sure how long he wanted to stay in Itabashi-ku, or to be in Japan for that matter, the flexibility was invaluable. I am not in Iidabashi, but I easily could be.
Nowhere did this flexible felt more precious than in the dark days right after the breakout of the Covid-19 pandemic when it felt like the best thing to do was to run home. More than four years later, I am living in the same sharehouse albeit in a much sunnier room and in a much sunnier place. Much of it can be attributed to the new south-facing floor-to-ceiling balcony that I have compared to the north-facing cavity of a window in my previous room. Though some of it can be said to come from being able to say “hello” to your fellow housemates at a time of hunger for the human touch.
3. Say Hi
I am known amongst my friends for being a low-maintenance friend. But low maintenance does not mean no maintenance. In a UK-based study with more than 458,000 people held over 2006 – 2010, researchers found that compared with people whose family and friends visited them daily, the risk of premature death for those who lived alone and never had visits increased by 39%. I was in a foreign land where I knew no one (save a few ex-colleagues) and unless I wish for myself an early death, it would be best to start making friends and “visiting” them daily à la the study.
A sharehouse felt like the best place to start. Not everyone is predisposed to being amicable of course but most conversations start (and end) with a reciprocated konnichiwa, or hajimemashite if you’re a real stickler for tradition. From there, they extend to “what’s cooking?” / “any plans for the day?” and in the warm cocoon of a living room, a new friendship is hatched. Before the pandemic outlawed social interactions, we even had a potluck Christmas party. I could barely speak the language then – cue the bungled McDonald’s order – but at times the other foreigners would kindly translate. Under an artificial potted ficus tree, we exchanged gifts (all gifts to be worth ¥1,000 (S$10) or less) in a secret santa exchanged. The Ginza currry retort pouch is long gone, but the accompanying curry spoon I received is now the spoon I use for foods beyond curry.
The warmness lingers.
I could continue waxing lyrical about the interactions and other small acts of kindness. But there are reasons why the word “sharehouse” is just as likely to elicit concern and anxiety in no small measure. Having an occupant : shower cubicle ratio of 7:1 meant that during peak times (9 PM – 11PM), there is a high chance of having to wait for one’s turn. There have also been countless times when I deliberately leave the house to order take-out when the only kitchen in the house is crammed with other hungry housemates.
The inconvenience extends beyond resource use; one unwittingly witnesses the ugliness of people who do not truly understand and uphold the “share” in “sharehouse”. From clogged drains in the shower cubicles to loud phone conversations in the dead of the night. The worst part is when these offences repeat and go unpunished as appeals from reluctant management representatives go unheeded. The inconsideration rankles and the frustration stews.
Man is a creature that can get used to anything, and I think that is the best definition of him
Fyodor Dostoevsky
Gradually, one becomes inured to these perturbations and reconciles with another quintessential Japanese characteristic – 仕方ない (shikatanai) – which is a weary acceptance of things that one cannot change, or find that the costs to be incurred not worthy of the change that it engenders. Or in other words, one becomes more jaded. I guess am no longer the same starry-eyed boy who looked forward to starring in his own season of Terrace House.
In the show, the participants come and go. A couple of episodes later, once they have gotten a feel of communal living and fulfilled whatever purpose is it that they appeared in the show for, they leave. It’s the same in my sharehouse, and I genuinely feel happy for some of my housemates when they have moved on to the next step in their lives. A sharehouse is a stopover, not a destination.
And I’m looking forward to graduating from Terrace House someday too.
Jin Pang 