To be clear, the thrills have nothing to do with the wine. Fine wine is not cheap even if it were exciting (which it’s not, personally), and if you’re going to spend the money, I would recommend sweet plum saké instead. On the contrary, the real cheap thrills are actually not what most people would consider to be thrills at all. Like meandering into the lobby of a guys’ dormitory. Or eating a bowl of chili. Or wearing sandals.
For context, let’s start by talking about Japan. If you’ve studied anything about Japanese culture, you’ve probably heard it’s pretty conservative by U.S. standards—conservative clothing, conservative expressions of affection, conservative traditions. Certainly, there are places like downtown Tokyo where this is not as accurate, but my Christian university in the suburbs of Chiba Prefecture is not one of those places. On the small campus where I currently live, the male and female students are divided into separate dormitory buildings maybe fifty or sixty yards apart from each other. Each building branches off from a main brick path that leads to the rest of campus, and students are not allowed to enter the other gender’s dormitory—or even step foot on the path leading to it, under any circumstances, ever. I’ve even heard the intersection of the paths called the “Couple’s Corner” because that’s where the couples have to end their walks, a good forty feet from the entrance to the other’s dormitory. Even family members may not enter the building of their opposite-sex sibling or child.
But, there exists one exception to this rule. One. And it’s one of the most legendary events of the entire school year: Open Dorm Fest. The singular day when you can cross Couple’s Corner onto forbidden territory and see the lounges and hallways and bedrooms of the men’s or women’s dormitory. Do the men really have a manga room? We heard rumors of a massage chair in the lobby. My male classmates looked shocked when I described the traditional Japanese-style room in the women’s dorm, and only then did I realize they didn’t have one of their own.
Mystery. Intrigue. Excitement of mythical proportions.
As the name implies, Open Dorm Fest is a festival, so students from both dorms can also sign up to open their individual rooms and host guests, and every room has a different theme. My theme was Tea Party (not a big surprise to my college friends), and my roommate prepared ramen-style boiled eggs for her attraction. Other rooms had candy tastings or homely treats or games to play, and one of the guys even set up a bubble tea shop in the lounge on his floor. The girls got to shoot their shot on the gym equipment in the guy’s dorm, and the guys got to experience the divine blessing of the girls’ kotatsu lounge. (Kotatsus are basically coffee tables with heated blankets for your legs. Look up pictures; America needs these.)
All in all, the day was a blast: we toured the rooms, gawked at the carpets and decorations, nibbled various snacks. It was one of the great highlights of the winter trimester, but if you think about it, all we did was visit a dormitory. At Calvin and most other universities I’ve heard of, students hang out in the rooms of friends (or not friends) of the other sex all the time. Visitation hours are daily and even run until 1 am on the weekends. It’s normal. No one thinks about it. But Dorm Fest was one of the most anticipated days of the entire school year here.
To be fair, a considerable part of the spring to my step while entering the men’s dormitory was from the obstinate child’s thrill of doing something you’re not supposed to—of all the rules students break here, trespassing into dorms is not one of them. It feels illegal. But even more than that, what made Dorm Fest so special was that it’s something we never do any other time. It was like breaking out sandals for the first time after the snow melts (if you’re not one of those nuts who tromps around all year in flip-flops). It was like a dessert after a sugar fast, or like homestyle chili once I get back to America after a year in devastatingly chili-barren Japan.
The cheapest thrills require nothing but patience and a good hype team. I never appreciated the food I eat every day more than when I started fasting, and ordinary adventures are never more exciting than on empty afternoons. Turns out it doesn’t take wine (or plum saké, or any money at all) to have a nice treat, not when the future is bright with sandals and pumpkin lentil chili. We may be broke, but at least we have chili.
Emilyn Shortridge (’25) spent her Calvin years studying English linguistics, Asian studies, and ministry leadership, and intends to finish her Asian studies program in Chiba, Japan, in 2026. When at home in Plymouth, Michigan, she thrives anywhere near fantasy novels, houseplants, hot tea, or her calico cat, Genie, but she plans to live and learn in many cultures before deciding which corner of the world needs her most.
