Living in Itoshima
Notes from a long-term dumbass
Dear readers, a few days ago, Igor posted a link to an interesting story he had found on Reddit. That post is about life on Itoshima, a city located in western Fukuoka Prefecture. I really enjoyed that piece and hope you’ll like it too.
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I see a lot of posts on this sub about moving to Itoshima, like it’s some pastoral Instagram wet dream. So I thought I’d write something from the perspective of someone who’s actually been here a while. I’ve lived here for over ten years now. No escape plan, no arc. Just… here.
For context: I’m a 48-year-old non-entity from England. I don’t know why I’m still in Japan, and if worth was measured in contribution I’d be deported by lunchtime. The wife has yet to kick me to the curb, and it’s anybody’s guess why she has not. Possibly a combination of my daft, boyish charm and her poor eyesight.
I’m very good with tech but have somehow failed to make a single yen from it, which means I earn through teaching local community classes, which is just enough to stay afloat financially and pay my way. The wife works remote and we have an okay life; no kids but we have a very, very cute cat.
Property and leaving the city
We bought our house back in 2014 for about 12 million yen - cheap as chips. It’s a cozy place, and only two minutes from the station. Older houses in Itoshima are big, and if you’re willing to deal with age and maintenance, you can get incredible value.
Prior to our bucolic transfer, we lived around Ropponmatsu. I had pals in Tenjin once. Pub philosophers. Then the move and *poof* all friends gone. That’s just what happens. The hangovers are savage now anyway - so perhaps leaving the drinking days behind was all for the best.
Community life and the language reality
When we first moved in, having a novelty gaijin in the neighborhood caused a bit of a stir. Old folks stopping me in the garden like I was giving away free o-bento. Everyone seemed pleased to have a Brit living among them. Amao strawberries and pomelo gifts did flow.
That lasted a few months.
Fast forward ten years and now it’s very much a nonchalance emitting vibe. Low wattage. Not unfriendly — just neutral. Which is honestly ideal. I’ve not gone out of my way to avoid them, and vice versa, but as they’ve all gotten older they stay indoors more so by default the street is mine, a nice little ivory tower tucked away in the sticks.
Sidenote: If you move to Itoshima and don’t speak at least passable Japanese, people will start avoiding you after a few years. This isn’t Tokyo. You can’t coast forever. My Japanese was passable when I arrived, so I still manage occasional neighborly chitchat. Bear that in mind if you’re planning to come stay.
There’s also the community commitment rigmarole that can be a pain. Cleaning shrines, clearing drainage channels around the rice paddies — that sort of thing. The wifelet finds it annoying; I don’t really mind getting my hands dirty, least I can do in terms of local contribution. Next year we’re apparently becoming the chōnaichō [neighborhood association leaders] (or whatever it’s called), so I’m sure that’ll be a fresh bureaucratic hell.
Nature, ennui, and all that bollox.
The view from my window is ridiculous. Proper Lord of the Rings nonsense. Mountains, mist, the lot. On a clear day you’ll catch me chanting Gregorian hymns across the garden while absorbing it all in. That said, I’m glad we didn’t move deep into the countryside. Staying semi-urban was the right call, with a convenience store just ten minutes away by car. Sanity intact. Cabin fever would be a real thing if we’d gone proper Robinson Crusoe, no doubt.
Want to hear something unexpected? There are days when I get sick of all the nature. People don’t like admitting that after becoming counter-urbanites, but it’s true. Green-sick is a thing, and it is nice to hop on the train and see the city once in a blue moon, feel a bit of electricity and pulse again, see someone younger than 65 for a change. To hell with being cut off from that forever. Hot tip: Countryside + city on tap, folks - that’s the sweet spot. 40mins-1hr from the concrete jungle.
That said, what I love most about Itoshima is exactly what would drive many people away: the solitude.
Last week I hiked up a nearby mountain with a small BBQ kit and a few beers. Didn’t see a single soul the entire time. Got hammered (OK, I admit I do still drink occasionally. Talked philosophy to the wind passing through the maple trees. Enjoyed the bliss of being utterly alone. I could’ve stripped, gone full feral, howled at the clouds dressed as Frank’n’Furter from Rocky Horror while slapping my nutsack with a kipper and no fucker would’ve known. That is freedom ladies and gents, and I love me some of that. Finding yourself a dead akiya buried in the woods, sitting in their rusty garden chair, pulling out some crackers and marmite and seeing if you can’t spot a boar or a snake (not as rare as you’d think). Solo Huckleberry Finn. What a life.
I am skint. Working on that, but for now I might be the brokest bastard in the entire prefecture. No mates. No future. There’s a constant low-level sense that I’ve missed the memo about careers and ambition. Haven’t seen a doctor in 15 years, except the time when I nearly cut my toe off with a bush cutter, so knows not I what thine health prospects are. Not great I imagine. Can’t afford it, don’t care anyway. And frankly, observing the old folk around here, hearing their geriatric gripes, hasn’t exactly sold on the ageing thing. At least I am systematic in my exercise routines, and more so than most - fit as a fiddle ostensibly, and that’s what I call my “health insurance.”
I suspect the relatively stress-free life I have does some good in that area. Having your own private beach to sunbathe on is good for one’s mental and spiritual well-being.
Social isolation and foreigners or lack thereof
Socially, I don’t talk to anyone. Zip. Proper nobody. I’ve never met another foreigner out here besides the TITP trainees and the Nepalese staff at the konbini.
I know they exist, but perhaps not in this more western side of the peninsula. I’ve spotted fellow whiteys at Gooday and Nafco, but who knows if they actually live here or are just passing through. I do think that would drive some folk insane — never seeing “your own.”
Not moi.
As long as I’ve got internet, I’m sound. The Dude abides. I get sick of speaking Japanese - it’s functional, but creatively anemic. Fine for logistics. Poor for poetical expression. Got the internet at least, my savior.
DIY, aging, and watching rot gracefully
If you like DIY, Itoshima is incredible. Fixing up an old house here is genuinely enjoyable, and materials are easy to come by; you’d be surprised what you can scavenge from the ocean shore, driftwood, paint from China; half the fun is reading the labels. I found six months’ worth of cigs floated over from Korea once back in the early days, smoked the lot. What a pikey!
The darker side is depopulation. Everyone is old & crusty. And I mean everyone. Crusty. You can watch Japan fading in real time out here. Front seat for the party.
I find it morbidly fascinating, not going to lie. Glorious decomposition. Dead stingrays on the beach. Piles of leatherjacket flatfish with cookie-cutter shark holes in them. Houses falling apart, shops running out of staff. Slow decrepit atrophy, rural Japan quietly decomposing. My brain lives permanently in a Walking Dead / Fallout crossover, thinking inside like I’m Daryl Dixon with a posher accent. It’s a novel thing to be fond of, and I do wonder if anyone else would see the appeal. It’s certainly not quite as much fun for the old dears here that can’t get their meds delivered or are having to wait three hours at the orthopedic clinic...
Final thoughts
So is Itoshima for everyone? Absolutely not. The isolation, aging population, and slow decay would break a lot of people. Wouldn’t raise kids here either, not on my side.
For me though, it works. I live cheaply, quietly, and invisibly, and that fits me like a glove.
Oh, and a quick public service announcement: screw that TV show Omusubi. They made Itoshima look like a boring dump. It isn’t. Not even close. This place is jam-packed with things to do, places to go. Everything east of Maebaru is throbbing, great restaurants, cafes, you name it. My side is more wide fields paced out on the watershed, basalt jointing, hidden waterfalls, citrus trees as many as the eye can take in, artists and yoga studios, idyllic surfing beaches, and one crazy Englishman.
Very enjoyable read! Thanks for sharing!
I like his writing style - funny and fun to read! Is green-sick really a thing? No, no, no! I don't want to believe it. I need to keep *that* dream alive. Thanks for posting. Interesting read.