Seasonal Irony

My first summer here in Japan was, in a word, wet. Very wet. Florida-esqe wet. Humidity levels soared as the blinding sun turned the countryside into a steamy sauna wonderland. Wrinkles would disappear within minutes of getting dressed (okay, so that’s a plus). Clothes, bedding, and towels were always slightly damp (not such a plus). It was the sort of wet that leaves you soggy after standing outside for five minutes. I don’t think I’ve ever guzzled so much water in my entire life.

For not having any insulation within its walls, our apartment certainly retained the heat well. Too well. So well that we became regulars at the local department store and its centralized air conditioning. Our air conditioner at home is much too small and underpowered to combat rising heat levels at any time other than the evening, when the sun’s power has shut down for the day.

All this said, I can honestly say that the time I expected mold to rear its ugly head was during the summer season. And it certainly has made itself known, despite our best efforts to keep things clean and out of dark storage places with poor air circulation unless they’re bone dry (and even then we air things out). Most of our casualties have been inexpensive wood implements purchased at the hyaku-en shop (Japan’s version of the dollar store), which were promptly thrown away and the area disinfected. Other victims who were salvageable include travel bags, a wooden bamboo steamer (I’m seriously heart-broken over this wonderful cooking instrument), and a shoe. I might add that none of these items were stored in the same place.

The ironic thing about the war being waged isn’t that it was unexpected; it’s that the assault began not during the height of a hot & humid summer, but during the brisk fall and frigid winter instead. It’s freezing here, including the inside of the apartment, and will only get colder. This means a key component in the “warm, dark, wet” formula for the creeping fungus’ ideal environment has been kidnapped and tossed to the south until the next year.

My conclusion: it’s a tenacious little bugger. At least the cockroaches leave us alone when temperatures drop below 15 C.

Hmm… I wonder if I’ve stumbled onto the reason insulation doesn’t exist in this region of the island…