I TURN INTO MRS. MALAPROP, m(__)m

One of my new years resolutions has been to make more of an effort to study Japanese, with mixed results. It turns out that Japanese is a tricky beast.  First, there are a number of words that are so similarly pronounced, they could be homophones.  The correct way to answer a phone call is to say "Moshimoshi," which sounds strikingly like a double take of mushi, which means "insect." I still can't hear the difference between the words, but people pause when I answer the phone and over-pronounce "mOshimOshi," and laugh when I say, "MooshiMooshi." Then there's kawaii [ka-wy-ee], or "cute", vs.kowaii [ko-wyy], or "scary." I have been guilty of telling a passing Japanese person or several that their baby is scary.  Or rather, they understood me to say scary, when I was trying to say cute.

Furthermore, some of the grammatical points are overly complex and seem to defy logic.  I won't get into the nitty gritty of most of these things (who wants to read about grammar, am I right?), but I will offer up the example of counters.  Most languages employ a variety of counters (one, two, three; first, second, third, etc).  Japanese, however, has counters for things like "long cylindrical and stringy objects," which are very different from the counters for, say, square objects.  It's enough to make me want to set fire to my textbook.  

One highlight of the book, however, is its notes on culture, such as "How to Spend Christmas in Japan," "Etiquette in the Bath," or "Japanese Emoticons and Pictorial Symbols."  I found the latter particularly informative, considering that my range of emoticons consists of:   ;-),   :`(, and   :-).   Now I have a plethora of new faces to share in emails and text messages, including:

m(__)m   =   Apologies/gratitude/regards
o(^_^)o    =   Thrilled
_l - l O    =   Disappointed/devastated

Don't be surprised when my next email to you reads:

(^_^)/  BFF.  ┌(▼▼メ)┘LOL.  Miss u.  (T_T).  <3, @(*-*)@

Translation: Hi! Best friends forever.  Dancing yakuza.  Laugh out loud. I miss you.  I am crying.  Love, Princess Leia

I can provide an emoticon key should you desire it.

FCUK YES

New years sales are popular in Japan, but this year, one department store's sale surpassed all others.  It wasn't just a sale.  It was a "Fuckin' Sale." At least according to the signs they plastered throughout major cities in the Kansai area.  

Thanks to Pleen for this shot

Why did the store choose to go this route?  Apparently it was supposed to be a play on the word fukubukuro, or "happy bag," a promotion done at new years in which people pay a certain amount of money for a gift bag full of mystery items.  If you're lucky, you can get some really good deals on things like clothing, electronics, groceries, etc.  Some bags even have deeds to houses or cars. Anyway, back to the Fuckin' Sale.  I doubt anyone was trying to be provocative; in fact, the department store apparently took down the signs in embarrassment (much to the dismay of English speakers)after they learned what the F word meant.  

More hilarity ensued when I raised this topic with my adult eikaiwa group.  At first I was hesitant to divulge which curse word was on the signs, but they poked and prodded until finally, I wrote it on the board.  Murmurs immediately broke out as half the people in the room understood what the word meant, while the other half did not.  The scene took on a surreal aspect as the first half took it upon themselves to explain the matter to the others.  In the rush of Japanese that followed, all I could understand my sweet grandmothers saying was "Fuck you" in a dispassionate tone.  Later, they told me that the Japanese have a tendency to appropriate and then misuse English words.  Thus, when a restaurant is "moody," it is atmospheric, not emotionally changeable. When someone is "naive," they are not being immature, but rather, sensitive.  I guess the devil truly is in the details (or rather, the nuance).  

This is actually not a mistranslation.  In katakana, "lobby" is actually "robby" in Japanese, because they don't have an l sound.

EVERYONE'S A LITTLE BIT RACIST, SOMETIMES

I'm sure that many a well-intentioned individual out there has felt vaguely racist shame when mistaking various Asian nationalities for one another based on appearances.**  However, I've realized that they do it too.  One friend recently wrote me from Buenos Aires, saying, "All the Chinese people here think I´m Chinese [her mother is Korean]. Also, I have never been able to tell Asians apart. In a strange way it´s kind of a source of pride if you can tell your "kind" apart from the others...but so hard! Let´s all be racists together!"

Before westernization hit Asia full force, it must have been easier. According to some, you could spot a mainland Chinese haircut a mile away.  However, the widespread imitation of a small pool of pop stars and actors has spawned a transcontinental uniform, especially among women.  Without the old indicators inherent in a variety of hairstyles, orthodontia, the cut and tailor of clothing, fabric used, and colors favored, it's difficult to differentiate between nationalities, and can lead to perplexing situations.  Take, for example, an instance in which I showed a couple of the teachers here a photo of some friends who were coming to visit.  After a pause of several seconds, one teacher tentatively pointed and asked, "Is she Japanese?"  "Actually, she's from Malaysia," I answered.  "Oh. Oh.  She looks very Japanese," came the response.  That turned out to be the end of the conversation- no one seemed to know what to say afterwards.

First let me say that if you appear to be related to or friends with anyone who looks vaguely Asian in heritage, it is a huge surprise.  Sometimes I wonder if the Japanese (at least the ones who have never been abroad) don't compartmentalize the different peoples that make up other countries and assume that we occupy different spheres.  White Americans in one area, black Americans in another.  Asian Americans separate from Latinos.  We may all live in the same country, but the fact that we interact seems to be a shocker.     

These days we're encouraged to be sensitive to the differences between people so that we don't make them feel different.  Race, religion, sexual orientation, gender stereotypes, ethnicity- these are things we are taught not to make assumptions about, for fear of offending others.  However, because the Japanese haven't been faced with the same history or dealt with the same social struggles as other countries, they can get away with all sorts of things that would be deemed politically incorrect elsewhere.  Taken out of the loaded historical context of a country such as the United States, these things are more questionably funny than prejudiced.  So when I see a sign advertising "Black Music and Bourbon" in Nara City, I have to chuckle, even though it makes me feel as though I'm standing outside a smoky speakeasy in prohibitionist America, where a flapper is dancing beside an out of tune piano played by a guy named Mac.  Anywhere else, this sign would be offensive, but here it's meant as a huge selling point for the club it represents. 

One of my students is a really wonderful dancer, and her preferred style is hip hop.  On her first homework assignment, when asked what kind of music she likes, she wrote, "I like soul music because I like a husky voice of a black person."

Then, on her final exam, under "What do you think is the best place to study abroad?," she argued, "The USA sends a lot of new something to every country...Especially, a new music style born there is surely the vogue. And I love American style music. James Blown [sic] is so cool!"      

Though it's been almost 160 years since Commodore Perry negotiated the opening of Japan to the west, there's still xenophobic chafing in some quarters.  In December, a buddy asked me if Japan memorializes Pearl Harbor at all.  They don't, which is probably for the best since they are one of our most important strategic partners in Asia, and it could be awkward to commemorate a point in time when we didn't get along as well as we do now.  Our current relationship aside, there are a number of people here who are not too keen to have U.S. military bases in Japan (even though I would think they feel a lot better about it every time North Korea starts running its mouth about something).  The angst over foreign influence in Japan is felt in other sectors as well.   Many Japanese teachers of English are against initiatives to start immersing students in English classes at an earlier age.  For some, the rationale is that students will lose interest in the language too early (English is boring), and won't continue their studies through university.  More disturbing are the JTEs who think that English is an imperialistic and useless language, and that students should be studying only Japanese. [I work with a teacher who said this almost verbatim to one of my predecessors.] 

If you're asking yourself why someone would choose to teach English if they feel such deep disdain for the language, your guess is as good as mine.  Their resistance is particularly confounding given that Japan is competing with countries like India and China for salience in the world market, and being multilingual gives an edge.  If the prospect of a dominant China isn't a motivator, I don't know what is. 

Like it or not, English isn't going anywhere, and ergo, neither is America's presence in Japan.  Which should be a positive for the Japanese, as they are the second largest foreign holder of U.S. treasury bonds.  Keep your friends close, but your debtors closer.

**At least in northern Asia.  It's pretty easy to identify people from southeast Asia when compared to northern Asians.

I HEAR A SYMPHONY

A friend wrote me a while back, saying, "So there's really no central heating in Japan?  What about the robots?  This is the country that invents high-tech robots, right?"  It's true- what Japan lacks in attention to personal comfort, it more than makes up for in technological advancements, such as robots that help prevent snoring, or this rather controversial process that may save us when the world ends (I really don't recommend clicking on this link if you just ate or are about to eat).  And, behold!  A bathroom mirror that somehow repels condensation from the shower! (After seeing this photo, a couple of friends remarked, "If they can keep one part of the mirror from fogging up, why don't they apply the same treatment to the entire mirror?"  Let's not get greedy here, people.)
 

Magical

However, I think Japan's greatest unsung (no pun intended) achievement is subliminal messaging through music.  While shopping with friends, "Auld Lang Syne" started playing over the loudspeakers.  It was September.  "How weird," I remarked, "Don't the Japanese know that we play this at New Year's?"  "Oh, they're not just playing this [for the sake of playing it]," a friend responded, "They're letting us know that the store is closing."  This is an excellent example of the subtly nice ways the Japanese make a decisive point.  Another situation: when a party breaks up and it's time for the guests to leave, the host or hostess says a phrase that literally translates as "bamboo rope," but in context means, "The party is opened."  An English paraphrase would be: "You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here."
 
I've mentioned before the infernal speakers right outside my bedroom that blare public announcements from our town hall.  However, in addition to the 7am wake up call on Sundays, the speakers also provide another service: various jingles throughout the day to mark an appropriate activity.  Each song is different (though they're all reminiscent of the music that an ice cream truck plays), and lasts maybe 1-2 minutes.  At 7am, the wake up song strikes.  At noon, the music signifies it's time for lunch, causing everyone to start salivating in a Pavlovian manner. Finally, at 5pm we have the "going home" music, reportedly designed to lure children back home after school like an automated Pied Piper.  
 
Rajio taisou is a morning calisthenics routine broadcast on radio and television that the Japanese perform every day.  Interestingly, it was introduced in Japan in the 1920s after Met Life Insurance Co. started a radio broadcast routine in major cities in the U.S.  During the 1930s and 40s, the Japanese routine was used to keep soldiers at home and abroad in top condition.  Today, the routine has been re-choreographed so that it is decidedly less militaristic in nature.  Some people do it at home, others do it at the start of work with their colleagues.  Friends who live in more urbane areas have told me that they've glanced outside their windows at the appointed rajio taisou time (7am), to see construction workers, etc. moving in unison.  You can check out the raijio taisou routine here. Honestly, given the Japanese love of the campy and flamboyant, I'm amazed that Richard Simmons hasn't become a major import.  Ring those cowbells!        

MAKE 'EM LAUGH

This may surprise you, but I like humor the way some people like a martini: dry, sophisticated, and maybe even a little salty.  Japan, however, rivals Canada in its earnest manner of taking everything literally, rendering most dry humor ineffectual.  Not to say that the Japanese are not funny (or Canadians, for that matter).  They are, and I really enjoy joking around with people at school and in the neighborhood.  However, some kinds of humor just don't translate.  One mode is not necessarily better than another- it's all relative.  Still, I was taken aback when one of my adult eikaiwa members, Mr. M, asked me, "How do you learn to tell a joke?"  How does one answer that question?  I think for most people, we start out with formulas, like knock-knock jokes, or jokes you might find on the back of a cereal box.  In time, we evolve as humorists, and start making more situational quips.  Mr. M's question generated a long discussion about humor, and the divides among people in terms of what they find funny.

Another adult eikaiwa member said to me about her time studying abroad in Wyoming (yes, you read that right): "Americans are so...childish.  When I was living with my host family, they would act like children sometimes."  "Like what?" I asked. "They would put, the cold thing...[an ice cube] down someone's shirt.  Even the adults would do this!"  I couldn't help but be a little nettled by her critique, particularly given the standard of high comedy here, as evidenced by my sporadic exposure to Japanese media.  I don't have a TV in my apartment, which usually doesn't bother me, though I'm somewhat convinced that I'm missing out on some of Japan's most fascinating wackiness.  On the other hand, I can't see myself tuning in every week to a game show in which men are asked to repeat tongue twisters, and then penalized with a blow to the nether regions with the Chinko Machine (lit., Penis Machine) if they make a mistake.  I'll take the worst of American TV programming (reality shows) over the chinko machine any day.

AKEMASHITE OMEDETOU: HAPPY YEAR OF THE DRAGON!

Goodbye, Year of the Rabbit.  Hello, Year of the Dragon! Assuming that the Maya were being a bunch of Debbie downers and the world doesn't end in December 2012, the Year of the Dragon should be a good one, at least according to Chinese horoscopes (also consulted by the Japanese).  2012 is the year of the Water Dragon, making it a period of relative calm and luck.  It's also a good time for reflection and planning for the future.  

New years is a big deal in Japan.  The post office makes a mint in postage for new years cards, which are sent to family, friends and colleagues.  The only exception is if there has been a death within the immediate family that year.  The cards must be dropped off at the post office by the 29th in order to ensure delivery on the 1st of January.  Many of my students spent the weeks leading up to new years volunteering at their local post offices, helping to sort and organize new years cards.  

Houses are cleaned from stem to stern, and housewives spend days preparing enough food to last the family from January 1st-3rd, allowing the wives and mothers to relax during this time.  On new years day, most families travel to nearby shrines to pray, make donations, light incense and candles, and have their fortunes told for the upcoming year.  At Buddhist temples, the temple bell is rung 108 times, each gong representing an earthly desire that must be cast off.  

This year I eschewed the perhaps more traditionally American option of boozing at a glamorous party and rang in the new year at Todaiji temple in Nara City.  Todaiji is famous throughout Japan as the location of the country's largest Buddha statue.  We got in the queue at 10PM to await the opening of the doors at midnight, and ended up being among the first 50 people allowed inside.  And added bonus was that one of the national TV networks, NHK, was there filming for a program called 'Iku Toshi, Kuru Tohi' which means "Past Year, Coming Year."  We were spotted by various JET colleagues on television that night.  You can check out the video below- look for us at 0:25.  We should be easy to spot given the shiny, conical party hats we donned over our warm winter headgear as an expression of our western identity.**   

Once inside the temple, we made a beeline for the fortunes.  You pay a few hundred yen and are handed a long, octagonal wooden box, which you shake until a chopstick-sized piece of wood falls out of a small hole.  On the stick is a number.  The attendant then hands you a slip of paper corresponding to that number that has your fortune for the year listed on it.  

My fortune for 2012: good luck

After a quick fortune comparison, we made our way to the Buddha hole.  The Buddha hole is a small space cut at the base of one of the columns in the temple.  The opening is said to be the size of one of the giant Buddha's nostril.  If you can fit through, you are granted the blessings of the Buddha for a year.  I had a little difficulty squeezing through when I attempted this feat this summer, but apparently Japanese cooking has slimmed me, and this time I made it through with relative ease.  Blessings renewed, we made our way past the growing crowds and the vendors lined up along the street selling all kinds of food, including lucky noodles.  We found a spot in Nara Park far away from the deer and had a short champagne toast.  Then two. Then three.  A little toastier all around, we retreated to a warm apartment, where sous chef Paul and I made eggs benedict for the gang at 3AM, before falling dead asleep. Already, 2012 is off to a great start.



Todaiji at night

**(Japanese reactions included literally laughing in our faces, stopping us to ask why we were wearing the hats, slowing down as they were driving by in order to better stare and then wave at us, and openly discussing us on the train, speculating that maybe we were wearing them to look like ice cream cones?  My favorite moment was when a young man moved into our car on the train and sat across from us, until I waved at him and he realized that I am his English teacher at school. Shocked, he bowed, got up, and moved back into the car he'd just come from in order to relay to his friends that he had seen me.  I waved again and acted as though it were perfectly normal for me to be wearing a party hat over a ski cap.)

OLDER, YES. WISER? MEH.

I recently celebrated my 27th birthday, which as some of you know, is practically 30.  This reality is tough to face, made worse by the fact that according to Japanese culture, I am hurtling ever nearer to yakudoshi, or "the year(s) of calamity."  Yakudoshi is a period of 3 years, during which people undergo all sorts of hardships and bad luck, mainly because Japanese people seem to experience most of their health problems around this age (or so the story goes).  The pinnacle year is called taiyaku; the year before it maeyaku, and the one after atoyaku. Maeyaku and atoyaku may or may not be unlucky; taiyaku is the year to watch. 

The ages of yakudoshi vary depending on gender.  For men, the main taiyaku years are 25, 42 (which in Japanese can be pronounced shi-ni, or "death") and 61.  For women, they are 19, 33 (sanzan, or "terrible") and 37.  However, since Japanese people consider children to be 1 year old at birth, in the west we would designate the ages of taiyaku as 24, 41 and 60 for men, and 18, 32 and 36 for women.

What to do to guard against this impending horror?  Not much, really.  Pray at a temple.  Perform purification rituals.  Some people go to shrines with family and friends and break rice cakes into pieces, which are then passed among their entourage.  The rice cake is said to be misfortune, and when friends and family eat the pieces, they are sharing in the bad luck.  I'm still a few years away from yakudoshi, but I'm prepared to force feed you as many rice cakes as I can when I hit the danger zone.