Wow, time flies. François and I have been married six months today! It was also a good excuse for me to finally finish editing our wedding photos. Okay, they were taken a month later, but it was starting to get a bit embarrassing.
Not nothing
“How’s married life treating you?” is what you’re all dying to know. In the weeks after our wedding I couldn’t really say much more than “exactly the same.” By now, I can give a better review.
We’ve spent a fair bit of time having honest conversations. Or, well, I mostly grilled François, because at the start of our marriage (and before that) he had a tendency to stick his head in the sand. “What’s wrong?” — “Nothing…” Of course it wasn’t nothing. Sharing your life comes with a few bumps in the road. Where François loves watching movies with the volume on full earthquake mode, I like my peace and quiet. Where I’d happily redo the whole house (new furniture, a splash of paint…), François prefers everything to stay the same. He’d rather hand-feed the cats; I went ahead and bought an automatic cat feeder against his wishes — which he still refuses to use to this day.
François loves movies, but also video games, concerts, and all kinds of events. Because of sensory overload, I’m very selective about those. François gets that, but he also finds it a pity. At some point we slid into a negative spiral: he suggested something, I felt the pressure and shot it down immediately, he felt down and lonely, and then I did too.
After a few arguments and some good talks, we decided to focus more on things we do enjoy together — the things we did a lot at the start, when we were still dating. Hotels, train rides, weird buildings… So we planned a few trips, including the one to Tsukuba I wrote about earlier.
Rust vs. huizen
We’ve been having talks about housing: I’d love to buy a place someday; he doesn’t—or at least, not yet. I, meanwhile, am hugely worried about my pension gap; he isn’t. This week we went, just for fun, to view a newly built house three minutes’ walk from our current apartment. I saw possibilities, but François shot everything down: “Propane tanks instead of city gas? That’s a no for me!” I made spreadsheets to persuade him of the financial upside (“You’re basically throwing money away every month!”); he felt pressured. Probably rightfully so.
“I want a bit of rest first,” François said. “Just watch Bones on the couch and do fun things.” It’s all moved very fast for him. Until a few years ago he swore he’d never get married. He’s still recovering from my home reorganization, the new sofa, and the new TV unit. Change is often tough for him and makes him feel off-balance. So we agreed we won’t revisit the whole house topic until a year from now.
On Sunday we’re heading out again with a rental car. I need at least a day to recover; François calls it rest. Luckily, I still have my little apartment in Hachioji, where I spend about two days a week. That’s my version of rest. (And François? He can happily watch TV at full volume at home, haha.)
Oh right, this was a review, huh? Well… four stars. On to five.
Whoa, so oldschool! An RSS feed!
Save this link in your RSS reader and follow my blog however you want it – chronological, in your mailbox, in your browser... Yes, the past is here!
https://www.toeps.nl/blog-en/feed/Related posts
A sports car, a Dutchie on a Japanese mountain and a Frenchie next to a Dutch windmill
François never really liked driving. He loves cars, sure, but the act of driving itself always made him nervous. When we visited Sakaiminato last year—a remote town entirely themed around an old anime—he was already sweating before we’d even made it out of the rental car parking lot. But that short trip through the Japanese countryside gave him enough confidence to try again. Since then, we’ve driven in Tottori, Nagasaki, Shikoku, and even once right here in the city, with a giant Ikea package I’d mistakenly ordered, crammed into the back of the rental.
Saved by the bells
People who have read This Autistic Girl Went to Japan, and those who’ve been following this blog for years, know that I moved to Japan in 2022 as a (Startup) Business Manager. But now that the Japanese government has recently decided to overhaul the criteria for this visa, I’ve been getting worried messages from some of you: “Does this apply to you too?!”
Toeps, 41 (yes, really!)
After I told you last week that I was starting to run out of money, you all massively clicked the Kofi button below. It wasn’t my intention to beg for money, but your small contributions are very much appreciated, so thank you for that!
This week I emailed back and forth with my accountant, who turned out to have a good solution for the loan between Toeps-the-person and Toeps-the-company: we can write off the debt against a tax-free severance payment for me as director, which will neatly bring the balance to zero.
A different pilgrimage through Shikoku – Part 1
Those who walk the 四国八十八箇所 (Shikoku Hachijūhakkasho), or Shikoku Pilgrimage, visit 88 temples in honor of the Buddhist monk Kūkai, covering a route of about 1,200 kilometers. Originally, the pilgrimage was done on foot, wearing a white jacket and a woven conical hat. Nowadays, pilgrims also take the bus or train—though we still occasionally saw a die-hard walking along the highway. The journey takes pilgrims through the four prefectures of Shikoku: Tokushima, Kochi, Ehime, and Kagawa.
We were not doing this pilgrimage, and only visited temple 84: Yashima-ji. Though that was for another reason, which we’ll get to later. While pilgrims collect a stamp at each temple in their booklets, we were collecting something else: Starbucks medallions. In the meantime, we also visited strange, abandoned places, and a castle that wasn’t there.
A different pilgrimage through Shikoku – Part 2
Just like in Shimanto, I had booked two single rooms in Takamatsu. Not so much to recharge this time, but because most hotels near the station were expensive, and Toyoko Inn only had single rooms left. For smokers, no less. Luckily, when we checked in, it turned out that 1) this was a brand-new hotel that had only opened two months earlier, and 2) there were still two non-smoking rooms available, which they were happy to switch us to—especially for me, a loyal Toyoko Inn Club Card holder.
It was still too early to check in, but we were able to leave most of our luggage at the front desk, which let us head into the city a lot lighter. Our first stop was a udon restaurant. Udon is the local specialty in Takamatsu, after all. I had been to Takamatsu five years earlier too, and back then, I’d eaten udon at this very same restaurant.
Bad Romance
This morning, François and I went to the immigration office. After days of preparation, including visits to city hall, a visit to my previous city hall (because I was registered there on January 1st and paid taxes there), hours of form-filling, and even cutting and pasting a document full of romantic photos and our first messages, I thought I had the application ready. Our mission: to change my visa from Business Manager to Spouse of Permanent Resident. More freedom, fewer requirements, and a path to PR for myself in three years. Hey ho, let’s go.
Building Name
Anyone who’s read This autistic girl went to Japan knows that this country can be quite bureaucratic. As a newcomer, you first have to break through the magical triangle of address–phone number–bank account, before you can finally pay with something other than the credit card you were actually supposed to have canceled already, or gift cards from the convenience store. By that time, you’ll probably also discover that you should’ve chosen a different way to write your name, because spaces, special characters, or middle names are guaranteed to cause problems: they don’t fit in the box, or your input won’t make it through verification. And have you learned how to write the number 7 the Japanese way yet? I have—after my direct debit form got returned for being “illegible.” (Tip: no wavy line at the top, and definitely no slash through the middle.)
After all these lessons in 官僚主義, I thought I had it figured out. But when I moved in with François a few months ago, I made a rookie mistake.
We got married!
I’m a pretty practical person. Romance isn’t really my thing, and when François asked me a few days ago if I knew when his birthday was, I was off by five days. (He’s the same way—last year, he wasn’t even in the country for my birthday—so luckily, no hard feelings.) I was never really into the idea of marriage. I don’t want kids, I don’t want a big party, and I don’t wear rings. And yet, today, we got married.