Mum

Last night, around 11 p.m., I got a call from my mum.

It was morning in Japan, and it seemed she had just woken up.
Her voice sounded tearful and frail as she said, "I feel feverish."

"I want to go home for a bit because I feel feverish," she said.

When I asked, "Maybe you caught a cold?" she replied, "Maybe so."

"I think Takeshi wants to take me home. He's that kind of person," she said.

My younger brother has found a buyer for the house.
He plans to sell it soon.
Once the house is sold, my mother will never be able to return there again.

"But you know," I said, trying to soothe her, "if you're not feeling well, it's better not to go back. Where you are now, they can help you right away if anything happens."

"Yes, you're right. I shouldn't get in his way," she said.

"I got everything ready so he could live just fine in that house before I came here. 

  He'll be all right, no matter what happens now."

　... 

"I've kept everything for you three, so you won't have to worry about anything," she added proudly.
All those things she prepared — they’ll all be thrown away, eventually.

"My head hurts. It's been hurting since morning. I think Takeshi will come to pick me up," she said.

When the Skype connection got weak, her voice suddenly cut off.
I didn’t call her back.

Later, around 1:30 a.m., she called again.
I was still awake, editing my blog, so I answered.

Her voice sounded much brighter; she said she had just eaten breakfast.
She told me a story about an old man she befriended, who got angry at one of the staff, a Vietnamese or something.

"It was hilarious," she said, sounding mischievous.

When I told her, "Try not to fight too much; they're just doing their jobs,"
she snapped,
"That's not it. They're just being lazy. You have to tell them off or they'll never learn,"
talking in a superior tone.
Her voice had regained strength — it seemed that eating had made her feel much better.

Apparently, the old man didn’t get enough food, and when my mother tried to share her own meal with him, she was told not to.
But since the old man didn't get his share, he lost his temper.
The story was a bit confusing, but at least my mother ate her full portion.

"But you know," she said, 

"I didn’t share my food with him.
  If you do that, they get mad at you. 

  You have to eat your own meal, they said.
  So I shamelessly ate everything myself and pretended not to notice."

She repeated the story that I didn't know how to judge three times.

The old man, it seems, lives on the floor above, in a luxury section of the facility, which is for wealthy residents.
Apparently, he was rich but got tricked by his family and sent to the home.
Still, because he's special, even if he gets into fights, it’s fine.

"It was hilarious,"
she said again, in a strong voice full of a sense of superiority.

When she cries and sounds miserable, it breaks my heart.
So when she talks like this — mean and a little unkind — it actually makes me feel relieved.
I end up laughing along with her, sharing that mischievous voice.

Buying a home

I had never thought about buying a house before.

I never lived in a way that would make that possible... The future always looked like a dark void just a step ahead.

The idea of buying a house itself never even crossed my mind.

To be honest, I barely ever thought about my future.

There's no use thinking about options you can't even choose, I used to figure. 

So when Max, my landlord, said he wanted to sell the attic room where I live now,
the first thing I did was start looking for a rental apartment.

I quickly realized it wouldn’t be easy.
The rent prices in Rotterdam had skyrocketed.
Not just in Rotterdam—all over the Netherlands, rents had surged, and choices were few.
I remember it being pretty bad when I moved five years ago, but now it’s even worse.

The rent for the attic room where I currently live is more than reasonable.
It’s furnished, utilities are included, and it’s located right in the heart of Rotterdam.
With the same budget and location, I could probably only rent a parking spot.
Well, a parking spot in a luxury apartment complex, that is.
Add another €100, and maybe I could rent two parking spots.
I don’t even have a driver’s license, but I could own space for two cars in a prime location.
Maybe I could pitch a tent and live there instead.
It sounds kind of poetic and luxurious in a way—but I’d probably throw out my back.

If I added €200, I might be able to afford a room in a shared house.
I could live with young people half my age, sharing late-night pajama parties.
Getting yelled at: “It’s your turn to clean the toilet today!”
Nooo,... no way. 

If I added €400, I could manage an apartment a bit further from the center, but still within Rotterdam.
However, it would be "KAAL"—which means “bald” in Dutch, describing a completely bare apartment with no furniture, no lighting, no flooring.
I would have to build everything from scratch, and it would demand a commitment to live there for at least 20 years to make it worthwhile.
Considering the cost to furnish it, it would end up quite expensive.

If I added €600, I could find a place with flooring at least, but it would just be an ordinary apartment, nothing particularly good or bad, located inconveniently without a car.
Forget about it being furnished.

If I added €700 to €800, I might finally find a place that’s somewhat comfortable.
It’s within reach financially, but that would be my absolute limit.

In short: if I moved into a rental, my rent would double, and the beauty of my life would be cut in half.

I might become unhappy, I thought.
No, I would definitely become unhappy.
I would live every day grumbling about the unfairness of life, the cruelty of inequality,
worrying about money the day after payday, constantly bitter.

Next, I thought about buying the attic room where I live now.
It’s a cute, romantic little place—but it’s also cramped and old.
It’s like a 116-year-old lady.
Still, this little grandma might be affordable with my salary.
If I got lucky, my mortgage payments could even be lower than my current rent.
There’s no one who understands the charm of this lady better than I do,
and I’m sure the attic would be happier being bought by someone who loves it.
The landlord would save a lot of hassle finding a buyer, too.
Isn’t that what they call a win-win-win?
So, I contacted Max and asked, "How much are you thinking?"
He was thrilled and replied right away.
(That’s when our long correspondence began.)

But it turned out that the attic wasn’t a standalone unit—it came with the apartment two floors below.
The downstairs apartment was about twice as big, and the attic was more like its satellite.
They had to be sold together.
The price ended up being three times what I had in mind.

I consulted real estate agents and mortgage advisors, but the moment I explained the situation, they would look at me as if to say,
"Umm, do you know how to add and subtract?"
I mean, I get it.
In truth, deep down, I already knew it was impossible.

I only kept going because Max was so delighted.

From there, the idea of buying another house came into view.
Either way, I would have to move out of the attic.
If the conditions were "current rent + €800," it would make no difference whether I rented or bought.
Rents would only keep rising. And I would have to keep paying, forever.
Buying might actually be cheaper.
And—this was very important—
if I owned my own home, no one could ever tell me to leave again.

So I started looking for cheap, used homes.
Around that time, my mother and brother’s house in Japan also began to collapse financially.

I ended up returning to Japan for about three months.
I started preparing to sell the family home,
and found myself, unexpectedly, thinking about real estate from both sides: buying and selling.

After coming back, I resumed my search.

Through this process, I started thinking more deeply about my own life.

I realized that a home is life itself, and life is who I am -

my past, my present, and the future version of myself.

Telling myself "There's no point in thinking about the future"　

was, I began to realize, a way of explaining my whole life.

I also started exchanging long emails with Max about real estate.
He was incredibly knowledgeable about the property.
Most of what I initially learned came from him.

This whole situation could have easily turned into an ugly fight:
"Get out!"
"I'm not leaving!"
"I'll kick you out!"
"Just try it!"
But we didn’t.
Max was always kind and human, and I tried to be, too.
It's rare to find someone who can build trust while dealing with something as brutally transactional as real estate.
But Max was one of those rare people,
and in that sense, I consider myself very lucky.
Through my conversations with him,
I gradually started thinking that maybe buying a home could actually be... interesting.

Honestly, buying a house feels like something way beyond me.
At least, for now.
But one thing’s for sure: it’s interesting.

I’ll be posting about it bit by bit here on the blog.
I hope you’ll find it interesting too.

Dear friends

This may come as a surprise, but I’ve decided to buy a home.

It’s my first time buying one.

Also my first time taking out a loan.

Lately, I’ve been watching nothing but YouTube videos like:
“Rent vs Buy: The Final Verdict!”,
“Top 5 Things You Must NEVER Do When Buying a Home!!”,
or “ The Common Traits of People Who Go Bankrupt from Their Mortgage!!!”

And as these all-knowing, battle-hardened experts shout advice from every corner of the internet, my brain is now filled to the brim with "!!!" .

Still, after upgrading to the paid version of ChatGPT and running simulation after simulation, I’ve arrived at a (pretty solid) conclusion that I’d like to share with all of you:

I am probably going to be poor for a while.

There it is.

Well ...maybe not 'becoming' poor, exactly.
If we’re being honest, I’ve been pretty poor up to this point already.
But now, by buying a house, I will at least own an asset—
you could even say this marks my transition from a laborer to a capitalist.

So I won’t be poor.

But my disposable income will drop drastically.

Apparently, my monthly expenses are going to double.

Because I’m taking out a mortgage!

I don’t even know how mortgages work yet, but I’m getting one anyway.

So I may not be poor, but I’ll probably become pretty stingy.

My landlord Max, who owns the attic room I currently live in, has been a kind of mentor in my house-buying challenge.

He told me that one of the key strategies he used to get the capital to buy his first home was : 

"Don’t buy anything."

Only buy what you need. Don’t buy what you don’t.
No car, no sofa, no TV, no excess clothing, no expensive holidays, no nights out, no regular visits to cafés, restaurants, or bars.
By not owning a car for over four decades, he estimates he saved around €500,000.

I’ve never owned a car anyway.
I don’t even have a license, so I’ve always been saving money there.

No kids either—add another million euros in savings.
And thanks to Max’s generosity, I’ve been living with incredibly low rent,
which means I’ve probably saved about €20,000 over the past five years.

Where did all the money go…?

I thought I’d been saving.

Anyway, that’s not the point. 

The point is:

Movies, theater, museums, clothes, travel, cafés, restaurants…

I might actually start cutting back on those things.

When I reviewed my budget, I realized how much of it went to social spending.

Living in the Netherlands is expensive.

If you want to sit down and really talk things through with a friend at a café, you're looking at a minimum of €15.

lunch is around €30, and dinner? About €60.

Transport, small gifts, cute little things I pick up while out with friends, and the “I’ve got this one!” moments at cafés...

So to all my dear friends, please keep this in mind:
I might become less social from now on.
But it’s not because I like you any less.
It’s just that I’ve turned into a cheapskate.
Because ...I have a mortgage now! 

The me who didn’t fuss about money and was happy to go with the flow?
That version of me is gone.
I’ve calculated and calculated and calculated.
And I’ve concluded that the amount I can afford to spend per friend is about €5 per meetup.
At least for the first five years.

Sorry to say, but hanging out with me is now a €5 experience from now on.  

But we can still have a great time at the park or at each other’s homes.

If you’re inviting me from far away and I say,　

“Ahh, I have something on that day—so unfortunate,”

that might be code for “ phhh ... the subway isn’t free, after all.. .” 

No, no, I’m just joking—of course, most likely I really do have plans.

But still, the safest bet is to come visit me in my town.

From now on, I’ll only go to concerts with free admission,
and I won’t visit museums that don’t accept the Museumkaart.
Take Museum Voorlinden, for example—
just thinking about how much I love that museum makes my heart ache.
But I won’t go.

If you really want to go with me, well… 

you could buy my ticket too, maybe?

Also, the coffee at the museum café... on you. 

“Fine then, forget you.”
Please don’t say that to someone with a mortgage.
People often end up isolated when they start putting money first.
I get that.
But sometimes, there are moments in life when money has to matter more than friends.
Still, I believe the time will come when you will matter a hundred times more.

I have old parents.
They live in Japan, I live in the Netherlands, so we rarely see each other.
Luckily, my brothers live near them, so I don’t have to worry about them dying alone.
But I carry the guilt of rarely showing my face to the people who love me most.
I call them once a week.

Once, I apologized to my mother for not visiting more often. 

Then she said:

“Even when people live nearby, they hardly ever come.
You end up not knowing anything about their lives.
If you don’t talk, it’s like they don’t exist.
But we talk every week.
Even if I can’t see your face, hearing your voice is like having you here.
You’re far away, but you’re actually the closest of all.”

That’s it, isn’t it?
Even if we don’t meet in person, as long as we keep updating each other,
we stay just as close.

So with that in mind, I’ve decided to start a blog.

Please bookmark it and check it out now and then when you’re thinking of me.
That way, we’ll always stay friends.

If you hear someone say,
“She doesn’t hang out anymore,”
please share my blog with them.
So they’ll know: she has a mortgage now.

Having lived abroad for many years, my friends come from all over the world.
So I figured—why not write this blog in multiple languages,
so my friends can read it in the ones they understand best?

Here’s the Japanese version.
The Dutch version is here.
And here’s the Russian version.

For those learning languages, it might even be fun to compare how different phrases are translated.

So, that’s the news.
My house-buying project has just begun.
I don’t know if it’ll actually go through, but I’ll do my best to make it happen.

Though I may seem a bit distant for a while, please continue to keep me in your heart.