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.