Sometime in early September, 2011.
Apologies for not finishing this story earlier. The story of how I was illegally evicted from my apartment, treated like shit by the cops, and left to fend for myself more or less. Read more of this saga at Day 1, Day 2, Day 5, Day 6, Day 12, Day 16, and Day 31. I say, "fend for myself," but in reality I am grateful for the help from friends here in Japan.
The last part of the story is simple. I found a place, paid a bunch of money, and moved in. Located a stone's throw from Shinjuku's skyscraper district, this is a great location. If I hadn't spent all my money on the random move-in costs here, I'd be blowing it from the seedy drinking holes of Golden Gai to the penthouse bars of the Grand Hyatt hotel. Oh wait, I am doing that.
It was love at first sight, this apartment. Perfect size, newly renovated from ceiling to the floor, and an amazing view from the roof. And motorcycle parking for a mere 2000 yen a month to boot (most places wanted closer to 10,000). It's a 1DK, meaning 1 living/bedroom, and a kitchen/dinning room. My previous place was a 1K, which means that the kitchen wasn't big enough to do anything besides cook in. Upgrade!
But I lost the great view, the high tech bathroom with butt-spraying technology, and the 5 minute walk to one of my jobs. I'm all out of ginger, shoganai.
Check the tour:
So there it is, and the story here is done. I know I hinted at more of the story, and there is plenty. Just shy of 2 years of craziness. Sorry to say, I'm not going to write any of it. If I see you in person, I can fill you in on the highlights. Why no blog post about it?
Exhibit A, from a recent documentary about yakuza that I watched:
Exhibit B, an article about what public prosecutors were taught when it comes to yakuza and foreigners. The gist is that gaijin and gangsters have no rights. You can read more here. I witnessed this firsthand.
So why would I, a foreigner with no rights, spend even one iota of energy pursuing anything related to the matter of yakuza housing fraud? I was over it the day it began. I'm the type of guy who never complains about bad service at a restaurant, lest I get a big ol' booger in my food. This is a metaphor, with the booger symbolizing all sorts of unpleasantness.
Sure, I lost some money in the short run, but that's what jobs are for.
Stay safe, ya'll, and live life to the fullest!