About Money...

Moving to a new country with double the living cost of Tokyo, amid a plummeting Japanese yen, and six months without income, has reshaped my views on money and influenced my behaviours. 

Looking back, I saved up diligently for an adventure to South America during my first job. Even a hundred yen was precious. I trained myself to dance all night without a drop of alcohol. I stared at the warm light outside restaurants in Tokyo, then walked away and nibbled my stale onigiri. When I turned 23, I accumulated more savings than senior colleagues with my tiny salary. In response to high demand, I began giving lectures and meticulously tracking their spendings on Google Sheets, analysing their habits. 

“Why did you take a taxi to work? You overslept?”

“No, I woke up.” 

“Then, why did you take a taxi?”

“It was raining…”

“Wait, so you take a taxi to work when it’s raining?”

I restrained my movements within Japan for a grand travel plan, but Covid struck the week of departure. Enduring over a year of extreme frugalism, I should have treated myself to more restaurants or concerts. Losing purpose, I decided to spend all my earnings, while not touching my savings. In the beginning, spending was harder, then a hundred yen and ten thousand yen felt the same. I acted on impulse, finding no satisfaction in the process. Money can be earned, but experiences are invaluable when I’m young, I thought. 

Three years later, when I first moved to Europe, I spent money like I had an income. One euro, one bucket. I can no longer afford the supermarket, so I go to the outdoor market every Saturday. A whole piece of Stroopwafel is luxurious, I buy the crumbles. When I was in Slovakia for New Years, I realised I could no longer enjoy trips, tortured by the constant notification from my bank app. Now, barely seeing any shows, I began to question did I really need to travel every other weekend, and frantically see concerts, exhibitions, and dance shows? A trip to Hokkaido for field recordings, why can’t I do it in Tokyo? Travelled to Izumo, Fukushima, and Aichi for sake breweries, when I could have gained the same experience in Chiba or Saitama. Curious about everything. I was draining my wallet. With or without these many cultural inputs, does it change who I am? I could’ve saved all that money, and invested the time and energy into honing a skill at home. Regrets, regrets. 

I had an upcoming trip to Berlin at a 22.1 channel systems studio. I reached out last October when I was eager to gain real life experiences no matter its price. Now, my rent has increased. I slept in tears when I heard about the annual water and waste taxes. Do I really needed to spend 300 euros to go to Berlin? My school announced a spatialisation workshop in the same week. Wait, I can obtain the same skills here. Without income, I make conscious choices and question every action. I started to notice the resources, facilities, and people around me. 

While my friends tripled their income and bought a house, I am doing a ten-second-stare at the potato price. Recalling our conversations, a friend wanted to move to Amsterdam, and another yearned to go back to school, and yet they settled down with a husband and a baby. I pursued my dream, with a price.