A Month in One of the World’s Snowiest Places

As most of you guys know, I own a home in Otaru, Hokkaido, and I help people buy, renovate, and manage their homes on Airbnb. Usually I’m talking numbers, zoning, renovations, ROI, snow filters on NipponHomes, the practical stuff.

But this winter has been so insane that I feel like I need to just write an update on life up here inside this snow globe.

It has stopped snowing for maybe twelve hours in the last ten days.

Maybe.

And even that feels generous.

I check weather numerous ways to try and get the best picture of whats going to happen. I’m checking the GFS, the Euro model, my phone app, Snow-Forecast, everything. I’ll go to bed reading that we’re supposed to get 2–3 inches overnight.

We wake up to a foot on the mountain.

Not once or twice. Almost every single time.

I get that predicting “lake effect” style snow off the Sea of Japan is hard. Cold air comes off Siberia, hits moisture, slams into the mountains, things happen fast. But in a world where we have AI doing everything, it’s kind of wild how bad we still are at predicting snowfall even the night before.

And honestly, it's at the point where I don’t even need to check the forecast.

It’s going to snow.

Every morning lately has been the same rhythm.

Wake up.
Look outside.
Shovel.

We clear our place first, then we help our neighbor, she’s pushing 70 (or maybe more, I don’t want to be impolite and ask her age) and out there every morning without fail. So we help clear her walkway, widen the driveway, move the snowbanks back because we know more is coming that night anyway.

Then we hit 7/11 for a caffe latte. grab some snacks for them mountains. The fluorescent lights, the hum of the heaters by the door, snow still falling outside. It’s become a ritual at this point.

And then we head to the resorts or into the backcountry.

I’ve had bottomless day after bottomless day. The kind where you stop filming because it doesn’t even translate on camera. Chest-deep. Face shots on accident. Backcountry lines just sitting there untouched. No rush to get to them.

It doesn’t feel real after a while.

You start thinking, “Okay, surely this is the last storm cycle.”

And then it dumps again.

This is the first winter with our house fully dialed in. Renovations done. Systems working. Everything set up the way we envisioned it. For the first time, it doesn’t feel like a project.

It feels like home.

There’s something different about coming back from a deep day, hanging your gear in your own garage, cooking dinner in your own kitchen, knowing you’re not flying out in a week. You’re just… here.

And I’ll be honest, I’m already getting a little sad thinking this is going to be over in a month. That I’ll have to wait a whole year to feel this rhythm again. The shoveling. The 7/11 coffees. The quiet nights with snow stacking outside the windows. The feeling of waking up not knowing if it’s going to be “good”, but knowing it probably will be.

If you’re thinking about buying a home here in snow country, and you have the financial flexibility to actually stay for a month, not just a quick ski trip, don’t wait.

A weekend won’t show you this.
Even a week won’t.

But a month?

This is one of the best places on earth to be in the winter. Not just for the snow, but for the lifestyle. The rhythm. The simplicity.

I’ll be spending every winter here for the rest of my life.

And if you’re even considering it, you probably should too.

Browse opportunities yourself: Check out current listings at Nipponhomes.com

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This content is for informational and educational purposes only and reflects my personal opinions and experience. I am not a licensed financial advisor, tax advisor, or attorney. Readers should conduct their own due diligence and consult qualified professionals before making any investment decisions.