Hidden Beach
That’s me. I’m the hot child in the city. Actually, first I was a hot child in the city, and now I’m a hot child in a Northern backwater village. Because it’s hotter than hell in Japan.
Hot nights in Tokyo
I landed in Tokyo on Thursday, August 19th. I knew Tokyo becomes a tropical jungle in the summer, and was prepared for the sweltering, breeze-less heat. We only planned to be in Tokyo for a weekend, so I knew I could put up with it for just a couple days. And since every building in Tokyo is air-conditioned, Trevor and I could pop into any restaurant, cafe, or movie-theater to cool off when we needed. But I wasn’t expecting Kodomari, the ocean village on the northern-most tip of the main island of Japan where Trevor teaches and lives, to be just as brutally hot.
After two days in Tokyo, we came back to Kodomari, and though it seems worlds away from Tokyo in every way possible, it currently shares a temperature with the city. We happen to be experiencing an unusual, unrelenting heat-wave. Which would be manageable, except that, unlike in Tokyo, most buildings and homes in Kodomari do not have air-conditioning, including Trevor’s house.
Japanese houses are unique to the American sensibility, with their sliding doors, tatami mats, and boxy, flat shape. I find these features interesting and rather lovely. But the thing that I – with my middle-class American expectations – cannot abide is the heating and cooling system of these homes. Unlike American abodes, Japanese houses do not have central heating; instead, a room or two will have a space heater. In Trevor’s house, there is one space heater in the tatami room, or what we call the “living room.” This unfortunate situation means that in the winter all other rooms are unbearably frigid, and if we leave for the day and turn off the heater (not wanting to burn the house down) we return to a house that is literally twenty degrees Fahrenheit. Even the tatami room never gets truly, comfortably warm. I suppose in the southern parts of Japan with their mild winters this type of heating situation is understandable, but up here in Kodomari, with harsh, freezing winters comparable to Wisconsin’s, it doesn’t make any sense at all.
Many homes in Kodomari also do not come with air-conditioning, including ours. On days like these, with high humidity and temperatures soaring into the nineties, the heat stays trapped in our house and turns it into a boiling oven, hotter inside than out. Trevor’s schools and work center also do not have air-conditioning, which is mind-blowing to my American perspective, so his days are just as sweltering as mine.
I really don’t know why houses in Japan stick to their traditional systems of heating and cooling – or lack thereof. I’ve heard that Japanese houses are made cheaply and not meant to last, so that could be a reason. Or tradition itself could explain it. To the Japanese, perhaps air-conditioning and central heating in every home might seem wasteful and unnecessary.
Secret Path...
To take our minds off the heat, on Sunday Trevor took me to a secret little cove in Kodomari he recently discovered. There are many things about Kodomari that I find less than stellar, but I adore how it’s made up of hidden, breathtakingly beautiful little spots. While walking down any street in Kodomari, I pass by paths or stairs that wind through the hills and lead to shrines or graveyards or stunning views. Several weeks ago, before I got here, Trevor followed one of these paths, and discovered a trail leading around the rocks jutting into the ocean. It passes by a
Shrine in rock
shrine up high in the rocks and ends in a lovely, pristine beach. We splashed around in the tide, sank our feet in the sand, thrilled to be in such a magic, Miyazaki-esque place. And then I got home and discovered my shoulders and back covered in a nasty sunburn.
Trevy on the beach
So here I am, hot, sweating, and in pain. A couple times I put my pajamas in the freezer before going to bed, and while they did cool me down a bit, they also smelled like frozen vegetables. The forecast calls for at least another week of this heat-wave. To get through it, I’ll imagine that this house is actually a cool, underground root cellar, and I am a nice, comfortable potato. Yes, that will fix everything.
