[Guest Column] Saki from Terminals Ibaraki | It wasn’t planned by anyone. A five-day farewell week spent with Alessio, marked by repeated “See you tomorrow.”

A guest column where residents share their experiences living in social apartments.
This time, we feature a column by “Saki,” a resident of Terminals Ibaraki.

“Farewell Week” began when Alessio, a resident of Terminals Ibaraki, returned to his home country. It wasn’t a planned event—residents simply gathered naturally, and before we knew it, we spent the entire week, from Monday through Friday, sharing meals with someone almost every day.

We asked Saki, a resident of Terminals Ibaraki, to share her report on this warm “Farewell Week,” which was so characteristic of the community.
Now, let’s hand it over to Saki!

Hello! I’m Saki, a resident of Terminals Ibaraki. It’s been about a year since I moved in. I’ve been having a great time every day, chatting with the other residents and eating meals together in the lounge.

One day, while chatting in the lounge as usual, I heard from Alessio, who’s from Italy, that he was returning home. He came to Japan to fulfill his dream of “living in Japan” and has been living here for about nine months. At first, he struggled with speaking Japanese, but by the time of his farewell party, he was able to handle simple conversations in Japanese.
He’d drink coffee in the morning and play pool after work. Whenever someone was in the kitchen, he’d naturally join the conversation, asking, “What are you making?” Because he’s the kind of person who doesn’t put up walls with others, more than one of us thought, “Let’s have one last meal together,” when we heard he was going back home.

“What are you doing on Monday?” “Let’s make takoyaki on Thursday.”
One invitation after another piled up, and before we knew it—even though no one had actually planned it—we were getting together every day from Monday through Friday. That’s how our “Alessio Farewell Week” began.

Authentic Carbonara and Takoyaki for the Graduation Exam

Farewell Week kicked off with Alessio’s idea: “Let’s treat everyone to authentic carbonara!”

Even though it was a weeknight, residents streamed into the lounge one after another after work, saying things like, “Today’s carbonara night, right?” and “I made it just in time!” In the large kitchen, with Alessio as head chef, roles naturally fell into place—some boiled the pasta, others fried the bacon, and so on.With four frying pans lined up side by side and the cooking proceeding at a brisk pace, the scene looked just like a bustling restaurant.

That day, Alessio was the very picture of an authentic chef. He was so focused on cooking that Italian words would slip out among his Japanese and English. Even members who weren’t confident in English listened intently, asking, “Is this next?” or “Is this right?” as everyone worked together to prepare the meal.

An authentic carbonara made without heavy cream. What surprised us most was the sheer amount of cheese.

As the other members were adding cheese, Alessio called out, “It’s still not enough! More, more!” Seeing our surprised reactions—“Huh, are we adding more?” and “Are you sure this is okay?”—Alessio looked delighted, as if he’d been waiting for exactly that reaction. We did as he said and added a generous amount of cheese.

The finished carbonara was incredibly rich and absolutely delicious—the best we’d ever tasted! As the ten of us gathered around the table, we asked questions like, “Do you make carbonara often in Italy?” and “How was life in Japan?” We also reminisced, saying things like, “Was Alessio with us when we all went to the Expo?”“Wasn’t that before you even came to Japan?” as we tried to recall, or “Did you go to that shop in Ibaraki?” as we chatted about the neighborhood. Just because it was a farewell party didn’t mean we only talked about old memories; just like in our usual lounge, the topics kept changing one after another.

Then, on Thursday, we held Alessio’s takoyaki graduation exam, which began with a joke: “If you’re going to live in Kansai, you can’t graduate until you learn how to make takoyaki properly!”

In the Kansai SA style, everyone brings their favorite toppings—not just octopus, but also sausages, kimchi, cheese, and more.
“Can you make takoyaki?” we asked—feeling a bit like teachers as the examiners.However, once he got started, Alessio flipped the takoyaki one after another without hesitation. And he was actually quite good at it! He worked more efficiently than our members from Osaka, leaving us—who were supposed to be the examiners—surprised: “Wait, he’s actually really good!” “Isn’t he better than people from Osaka?”
Now fully confident, Alessio even joked, “Maybe I’ll open a takoyaki shop in Italy.” On the other hand, when he saw us adding things like sausages and kimchi, he looked puzzled and asked, “Is it normal to put things other than octopus in there?”

So, he passed the takoyaki graduation exam with flying colors!

We even polished off a special takoyaki packed with all the toppings, making for a truly satisfying evening.

Learning the authentic flavors of Italy and enjoying the tastes of Japanese home cooking together—I feel this kind of casual sharing of each other’s food cultures is truly unique to a social apartment. (By the way, on Tuesday, we hosted a dinner party where we served hamburger steaks and stew as a “thank-you” to everyone!)

Communication without words, and a Wednesday just like any other

When talking about Alessio, “pool” is an essential part of the story.

Whenever I was in the lounge, he’d ask, “Want to play pool?” and before I knew it, there was always a crowd gathered around the table.
I think that even when he first moved in—back when conversing in Japanese was still difficult for him—he was able to become friends with everyone in no time thanks to billiards, a “game that doesn’t require words.”
I myself had hardly ever played billiards before then, but I started playing with him as he taught me, saying, “Try doing it this way.” He’d celebrate with me whenever I made a good shot, and before I knew it, I’d come to enjoy billiards too.

On the final night, we wrapped things up with a game of billiards, of course.

For some reason, we even came up with a rule that day where the losing team had to do push-ups after every game, turning it into a real test of stamina.
After the final game, Alessio looked really happy, and when I asked the losing team members about the result later, they said, “Alessio just ran off with the win (laughs). We’ll have to have a rematch when he gets back.” I thought it was so typical of him to already be talking about the next match.

It had been a week of farewell events one after another, but on Wednesday, some people were cooking dinner, others were drinking coffee, and still others were working on their laptops. Alessio was there as usual, and conversation flowed naturally.Even without any special events, if you just head to the lounge, someone’s there, and you can just hang out and chat. This “ordinary day” was also a precious moment during Farewell Week.

Until we meet again in the lounge

“I’ll definitely come back to Japan. Before the end of the year!”
With those parting words, Alessio left Terminals Ibaraki, where he had lived for nine months.

“Eating dinner,” “chatting in the lounge,” “playing pool.” We simply repeated the things we’d always taken for granted during those five days leading up to his departure. As a result, it turned into the warmest “Farewell Week” imaginable.
When he returns to Japan, someone will call out from his usual spot in the lounge, “Want to grab a bite?” and then follow up with, “Want to play pool?” I can’t wait for that future to arrive.

(Written by Saki; Photos by Saki)