Two weeks from Sunday will be one year since I moved to Japan. I promise to write a long, deep post about the past year, what I've done and learned, etc. In the meantime, to tide you over, two amusing anecdotes:
1) Last week Sarah, Jon and I went to Tokyo Disney. Or, rather, we tried to. By the time we arrived at 10:30, the park was already at capacity for the day, so we went to Disney Sea instead. Sea is more about the experience than the rides -- there's nothing in that park that compares to Space Mountain, or even the Matterhorn -- and I'm more about the rides. (Space Mountain! Matterhorn!) It was fun nonetheless -- a bit odd to hear Mickey Mouse speaking Japanese, but still fun. Japan and Disney are a match made in heaven; the Happiest Place on Earth meets the Most Inclined To Spend Ungodly Amounts Of Money On Cute Things Place on Earth. (see also: tiny dogs)
Now to the anecdote: There are two exits at the Disney subway stop, marked with signs in Japanese and English. As we surged through Minami Deguchi/South Exit, a Japanese girl, about 8 years old, tugged her mother's hand and pointed to the sign. "South! South!" she exclaimed, clearly proud to have recognized the English word. At the same time, I was saying to myself, "Minami! I recognized that kanji!"
2) Also last week, I finally made my first pilgrimage to the Shibuya outpost of Tokyu Hands, a DIY store with supplies for just about any hobby or craft you could name, plus things like luggage and bikes. I quickly realized this could easily be an 8-hour errand; six stories of amazing goodies! But I focused, got my beading supplies, and was on my way out when I was distracted by an entire floor devoted mostly to clocks. This may surprise people who've been in my apartment in Tokyo, which has NO clocks except the one on the microwave, but I LOVE clocks. I don't know why -- I barely use them, preferring my cell phone -- I just do. Then I saw a wall of posters, including an amazing, '50s-era map of Tokyo, with its major streets named "Avenue A," "19th Street," etc., just like New York City, during the occupation. I instantly thought the map would make a great going-away gift for Allison, one of my fave reporters, who just left for Italy.
There have been a lot of times in the past year when I wasn't able to buy something because I just didn't know how to communicate what I wanted. But I stood back, I did some mental vocabulary review, and I realized, I can make this purchase. So I found the nearest staffer and said, in Japanese, that I'd like to buy that map of Tokyo, on the wall over there, with a frame.
For the first time EVER, there was no hesitation on the part of the Japanese half of the conversation. She didn't look at me as though I was speaking Greek; she didn't say "sumimasen?"; she didn't repeat the request back to me in English; she didn't call a co-worker to come translate. She just went to the posters drawer, pulled out the map I'd asked for and said "Kono wa?" (this one?) I said yes, she asked if I wanted a white frame or a black frame, I said white, she asked me to wait while she framed it. And I had. The whole. Conversation. In Japanese. Without having to apologize, or explain that I only speak a little Japanese. It's like I actually can maybe sort of communicate, or something.
Thrilled with my purchase, and pumped about my conversation (Nihongo wa dekimasu, bitches!) I headed home, and decided to treat myself to the salami/proscuitto plate at my neighborhood pasta joint. It came, and my first thought upon seeing it was, I'm glad they brought chopsticks with this, because the basket on the table only has forks, and proscuitto is damn near impossible to cut with a fork. So I scooped up a hunk of delectable-looking ham.
Or, started to, but something immediately went wrong. The top chopstick shattered, and pieces flew everywhere. I was baffled -- what the hell just happened? -- but then, as I picked a sliver out of my hair, I realized ...
... that they were actually breadsticks.
Utensil identification FAIL.
(As Stacy helpfully pointed out to me later, what kind of jerk makes breadsticks that look exactly like chopsticks? In Japan?)
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4 comments:
My mom wanted me to pass along how impressed she is with your speaking.
Congratulations. That's really great.
This post is awesome. And hilarious.
Oh my God, that's so exciting about the conversation! Way to win.
(But shame on you for taking this long to get to Tokyu Hands, which I affectionately call Cracktown. It's not as delightfully -- and wallet-drainingly -- crack laden as Loft, but it's pretty effing close).
I took a year of Japanese, thinking the grammar would be like Korean, so real easy. But it was taught in English, so all the Korean-Japanese similarities I planned on exploiting were obscured.
When I occasionally visit Japan from Korea, I'm so amazed with myself when I can channel myself back to freshman year of college and figure out what to say. So I definitely understand your elation.
My parents were pretty impressed with my Japanese skill when we went on a long tour there in 2005. My mother and I actually got stuck inside the "Journey to the Center of the Earth" ride in Disney Sea. We actually had to walk our way out, but not before being stuck in the cars for like fifteen minutes (which seems longer when you're stuck in a ride).
My mom kept asking me, "What are they saying? What are they saying?" How should I know? This is way above my pay grade.
Anyway, I thought Disney Sea was nicely done. It has a bit of California Adventure flavor to it. We had a good time, and now my mom can brag that she's been to every Disney park in the world.
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