So here I am. Owing to a set of circumstances largely beyond my control, I find myself living and working in Japan. I could tell you the circumstances, give reasons or excuses, but telling you isn't going to help. Let's face it, life – and other four letter words – happen.

Now: the weather (and other phenomena). Heat waves, typhoons, volcanic activity, it's all here. One of my colleagues likes earthquakes, because it means something interesting is finally happening. A few weeks ago I was woken in the middle of the night by an earthquake. The following evening I was watching a drama about an earthquake when an on-screen news flash told me about another earthquake. Not uncommon then, but don't worry as big ones are rare and houses are built to withstand the normal ones. The weather is more troublesome.

Japan's seasons are very distinct, so much so that they have official days to celebrate the end of winter or to switch to summer clothes. It's not an exact science, especially as Japan stretches over 800 miles west to east and more north to south, even before you include the outlying near-tropical islands of Okinawa. Yet the transitions seem to be swift and clear.

Spring is a good place to start. AITCHOO! Hay fever season starts in late February and runs until May. It's much more substantial than in England. I have two theories on this. One is that the Japanese are such a clean race, wearing different slippers in different rooms, hygiene masks and dainty white gloves, that they do not build up enough immunity. More plausibly, the variety and voracity of pollen is far greater in Japan than in the UK, meaning that many more people fall victim to hay fever in Japan. I do not, but my girlfriend, who did not get it in the UK, does. Then comes cherry blossom. This sweeps across the country in spring, heading northeast. The Japanese have picnic parties for hanami, precisely timed, as there will only be one or two weekends when everything is in full bloom.

Flanking summer is a supposed rainy season in June and July and a typhoon season, centring on September, although I'm unconvinced. The daily weather is more predictable – none of this four-seasons-in-a-day nonsense that you get in the UK. Here, if it's raining, it's raining – don't bother staring out the window hoping it'll stop in a minute, either give it up or just go. The actual typhoons though, are few and far between, so don't fret about them either.

Summer is much more of a worry. Average temperatures throughout June to September are hotter than those for London in any month, peaking near 40 degrees Celsius, with August night time averages here being 24. That's not the biggest problem, though. It's the humidity. I didn't really understand what 'humid' was until I moved here. I got myself fit, cycling and playing tennis, but then summer happened. Suddenly I was breathless and gasping for air on the same cycle journey that had been trouble free. On the tennis court I was close to exhaustion in half the time it had previously taken me to get merely tired. When I went to put my things away in my bag, I found my papers were wet, not from rain but from 100% humidity.

So bad is the summer that the only option is avoidance. Most areas have air conditioning and these units usually come with a dehumidifier setting, too. Turn on, alternate between cool and dehumidify and don't leave. When I had to go out, the short trip to work was enough to give me stomach trouble for weeks at a time. I'm just too white. This climate seems to create smaller mammals and larger everything else, which results in cats and crows being about the same size. Moth-like creatures called semis resemble bats, squawk a lot and drop dead anywhere. Other insects are frequently unidentifiable, so it's impossible to know which ones will plod, scurry, fly, bite or infest your kitchen or bed. Even the cleanest places cannot avoid cockroaches a few years after construction, but maybe the geckos will eat them for you.

Eventually, there will be a brief, distinct autumn, probably in November. Like the cherry blossom, it's very beautiful in Japan and worth a visit if you can nail the timing. Or you could live here and wait, but that's a lot of trouble.

Then comes winter. A recent host of the winter Olympics, with record low temperatures around –40 Celsius in Hokkaido, the Japanese should be used to winter but seem to try to ignore it. At least, that's the impression I get judging by the non-existent central heating. Even in Nagano prefecture, where that winter Olympics was held, the Japanese prefer to survive by huddling around paraffin heaters or sitting at kotatsus, a sort of heated coffee table. I prefer mild, so having hot legs whilst my nose sniffs from the cold, doesn't appeal. At least the entire country doesn't grind to a halt at the first snowflake, though.

The Reluctant Gaijin in Japan Archive

The_Reluctant_Gaijin

15.02.10

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