ranting and raving: i love heat

by Laurie Cheung

One thing I love about my New York apartment is that it is warm in the winter, and I don’t have to pay for it.

I have old-fashioned cast iron radiators and even though one of them incessantly hisses and the other sounds like the milk frother on an espresso machine, fortunately I only need one of them on for most of the winter to keep my apartment snug and cozy. After spending that long brutal winter in Japan, I have come to appreciate and LOVE heated spaces.

As an architect, I was especially offended that Japanese homes are not insulated. I shuffled around my apartment in a coat, hat, and thick-soled slippers and saw a puff of air with every breath I took. I usually had several self-sticking heat patches on my body and in my socks at any time. My olive oil was always solidly congealed and all utensils and plates had to be rinsed under hot water before they could be used so that they didn’t instantly cool the food that came into contact with them. I huddled inside my living room under the kotatsu (a coffee table with a built-in heater underneath to heat your legs) and slid the fusuma (sliding doors) closed to conserve the little heat which didn’t radiate out through the flimsy thin walls. And I avoided the icy little toilet room as much as I possibly could — oh the horrors of squatting above a “long-drop” non-flushing toilet!

Like most westerners, I was so accustomed to central heating that I was used to walking around the house comfortably in a t-shirt, even in winter. When I explained this to my Japanese friends and coworkers, they thought this was extremely wasteful: “You mean, all the rooms are heated?! But you are only in one room at a time!” they would exclaim incredulously. They, on the other hand, use “direct contact” heating appliances such as carpet pads, heated toilet seats, and feet warmers to provide localized heating, which, to me, seems incredibly energy inefficient while discouraging and restricting movement around the apartment.

The kotatsu, which was the only major form of heat that I had in my “traditional” (rickety) apartment is kind of like Japan’s modern version of the hearth. Since most Japanese still take off their shoes upon entering a home and sit on the floor or tatami, it is the place for families and friends to gather around to eat their meals, watch TV, do homework, and socialize. Originally, Japanese wore long robes so that when they settled under the warm kotatsu table and blanket, the heat would warm their legs and presumably travel up to keep the rest of the upper body warm. How this warmed their (exposed) arms and hands, I have no idea. I felt like I was leashed to my kotatsu as I spent all of my waking hours at home practically underneath the table. Of course, this contributed to an unsightly winter weight gain!

However, many Japanese socialize outside of the home to keep warm — they eat and drink at local izakaya (local bars with food) and take baths at the communal onsen. Throughout my year there, it seemed like foreigners were the only ones who complained about the cold. Most of my female students just shrugged and said that this was the way of life, and reminded me how comfortable their short skirts were during the other three seasons. For me, riding my cranky old bike through that frigid air to school or the train station was absolute torture.

In addition, the Japanese also believe they should be in tune with whatever season it is — a type of stoicism leftover from the ancient Shinto religion. When it is winter, you should be able to see, smell, feel winter. All of your senses should be aroused so that you can maintain a strong connection with nature, all year long. The idea of wearing a t-shirt in winter is not appealing because it is just “not supposed to be.”

Well, the reason I am writing about the heat in Japan versus America topic is because I was walking back to my apartment the other day and it was one of those super cold days that actually makes your head hurt and your nose is red and dripping without you realizing it because most of your exposed face is frostbittenly numb. After walking up the six flights to my apartment, I had somewhat warmed up and was looking forward to sinking into my chair and toasting my hands by my hissing radiator.

As I opened my door, I was confronted with a blast of warm, wet, stale air. I looked up at my walls and ceilings, which were completely covered with an indistinguishable yellow-orange liquid that was running down my walls and condensing on the windows. I realized that the nondescript white pipe in the corner of my apartment was the culprit; the steam nozzle at the top was angrily spitting out hot water, presumably from the boiler seven flights down. The hot water, combined with the heat from the radiators, had created a steam shower my apartment.

I was lucky that none of my artwork or furniture was stained or damaged and I was relieved to see that the rusty liquid easily came off the walls with a little bit of wiping.

***Sigh***

I layered a few paper towels onto my Swiffer to soak up the liquid, and then used the citrus-smelling wipes to dutifully scrub off the rusty stains on the walls and ceiling which left my apartment smelling sickeningly like a moldy stale orange.

At that moment, I thought of how humorous the situation was.

If my neighbors looked into my window, they’d be like: mopping them…” and shake their heads. Another crazy person in New York.

If someone from, say, Japan, asked me what I did that evening, I would’ve replied: “Oh, I swiffered my ceiling.” (And confusion would have certainly ensued as there would be an awkward pause and a perplexed “Ehh?!?” “Su-wi-fu-ru-do?“) I even took photos in order to effectively explain that a Swiffer is a type of mop (or broom?) although “swiffering” technically isn’t mopping or sweeping.

And I laughed, not only because of how ridiculous that sounded, but at the thought that certain words and products such as Swiffer and Google have effortlessly entered our vocabulary as normal, accepted words. They have even evolved into adjectives and verbs, and phrases such as “I googled him before I agreed to meet him on a blind date” are completely comprehensible. Hearing and using new words like this is fascinating for me; it’s like a sociological experiment to gauge the changes in our daily lexicon as technology and trends evolve.

So, anyway, the whole incident made me think of how this would have NEVER happened in Japan and how lucky I am to have a warm, heated apartment — even if I have to occasionally mop my ceiling.

tagged under:asia, america, living abroad, nyc