First, the good. Always start with the good, yes?
In the 10 days I spent here, Yuki was a kind and gracious host. She let me receive postal mail at her address, offered me the use of her washing machine, gave me materials to help clean my bike, and responded to messages in a timely fashion. The space has lots of natural light, and you do indeed enjoy your own bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen. The price was excellent. The bed was comfy and the sheets were clean. The turkey is utterly charming. This place feels like an old-school Airbnb, before they became all posh and commodified—like your quirky aunt’s old cabin.
Now, for the rest.
The kitchen and bathroom were dirty when I arrived. Some of this was due to the unsealed nature of the place: dust and dirt and tree detritus falls in through the roof, and flying insects easily creep in through the many gaps and holes in the converted covered porch. But really, how hard is it to rinse out the bathtub once, or clean the gross dishes, before a guest arrives? There was no hand soap in the bathroom and the dispenser in the kitchen was virtually empty; I ended up providing my own hand soap. (I found this fact even more disconcerting when Yuki told me that her family didn’t “believe” in the Coronavirus—make of that what you will.) Squirrels sometimes get into the kitchen, I was told, so don’t leave any food on the shelves. (Yuki gave me a plastic bin in which to store my nonperishables.) The windows in the room are covered by thin sheets, and the backyard is directly behind them, so there’s not much in the way of privacy. The door to the room only latches when you’re inside it. The floor in the room had not been swept or vacuumed. At one point Yuki borrowed one of the pans I was using to cook my breakfasts every day and never returned it—and random items were left in the kitchen at various points—so it didn’t always feel like “my” space.
All in all, this is funky space that’s suitable for someone with a low cleanliness threshold.