Settling Down

Faithful readers,

I have no fewer than 20 posts I've drafted up over the last several months, and I shall have you know that I intend to post them, though I'm sure some of the poignancy will be lost since I won't be in Japan anymore.

I have a lot of feelings about my upcoming return to the States this Saturday morning. There are happy feelings, sad feelings, tortured feelings, unresolved feelings, excited feelings, and so on. It is definitely my time to go--I have things to do in the States, and even more so I'm just ready to settle down.

I am 100% satisfied, content, and happy with my decision to go back to school, study Japanese intensively, and live in Japan for a year. However, it was not an easy decision to make. When I first left LA, and when I first got to Japan a year later, I had such a pull to stay in one place. Over the last nine years, I have lived in countless houses and apartments, I have had over fifty roommates, I've lived in New York City, Chicago, Kentucky, and LA (each on at least multiple occasions), I've had tons of jobs, I've made solid strides forward in my career as a performer and now as a Japanese speaker, and I am just exhausted.

I'm very, very grateful for the opportunities I've received, the incredible people I've met, the support from my family, friends, and complete strangers, and the memories I've created. I wouldn't trade them for absolutely anything.

Being a performer, though, it is a source of pain for me not being able to be in front of people entertaining. For that, I am looking forward to getting back to Los Angeles.

From a lifestyle perspective, I'm looking forward to settling the hell down. For instance, the last five or six months I've been using internet from the phone I'm renting here and it is hinderingly slow. I'm not a huge, huge internet person, but this has been a source of making me feel uprooted, like I'm not here for the long haul. I'm looking forward to staying in one abode, decorating, gathering the things I need and getting rid of the ones I don't that have accumulated in the last decade of endless moving around the world. I'm looking forward to building a solid social circle where I am, to having a doctor and a dentist, to having regular haunts, and, once I establish all of this, being able to travel and know where I'm returning home to when I come back.

This has been an incredible year with so many unexpected factors. I had the most amazing host family who has become part of my real family, I stayed in a zen temple, I learned Japanese Sign Language, I learned what sleep deprivation is like and became addicted to coffee, and I lived a year of my life abroad on the other side of the world from my home country. I am so lucky.

Thank you for reading, and see you soon.

I speak more than you think!

I just got back from four nights in Tokyo yesterday, and it is finally time for me to get a haircut. I've been stubborn about it for some reason and just could not bring myself to make an appointment, but I finally just stumbled into a place and made an appointment for tomorrow.

This place is one pass practically every day. It has an upscale look and has a modern, brightly colored sign in the window that says university students get a deal. I go in and ask the lady if they have any times available today. She asks if I'm getting a cut (this is all in Japanese, of course). I say yes, but then take it back and am like, "A trim?" See, "haircut" in Japanese is just the English word "cut" in the Japanese accent. In English, a haircut and a trim are not the same thing, but I guess Japanese doesn't differentiate, so she didn't understand what I was talking about so I just say, "Yes, a cut." Well, she yells over to So-and-so-kun who comes over and I couldn't tell if this was directed at me or the reception, but he goes "Does she/do you speak Japanese?" And just as the reception lady goes, "Kind of," I'm like, "Yeah, I do."

How rude is this lady? I don't care how bad a client's language ability is or how bad it seems to you; a business should not make its customers feel underestimated, judged, or ignored, particularly on their first time coming in. She knows I speak Japanese, so obviously I would understand her saying at normal speaking volume right in front of me that my language ability is pretty minimal. Furthermore, they have an ad in their window advertising a student deal--the salon is close to where a lot of international students live--so you would think they would know how to treat this particular population they're choosing to cater to.

We set an appointment for the next day since today was a bit tight, and So-and-so-kun walked me out. He held open the door for me and was like, "Your Japanese is pretty good, isn't it." I like this guy. I'm glad he's the one cutting my hair!

Living Alone in Japan (一人暮らし): finding an apartment

January 31, 2016
It's been about a month now that I've been living in my very own apartment in Japan, and I'd like to check in to tell you how the experience has been thus far.

First off, the good news is: the search process here is far more structured than what I'm used to in the States. I've lived in a lot of places in the US (admittedly most of them shared with others), and I've never experienced a process like this.

The Searching Process
Craigslist does exist here, but it's by no means as popular. Even share houses (living spaces you share with others) don't appear here so much (Gaijin Pot, for example, is a better resource for this). For the most part, you go into a real estate agency. They'll have ads posted outside with prices, floor plans, photos, etc. for many of their available units, so you can already shop a bit without having to go in. First off, every apartment advertisement you'll see anywhere has a floor plan with measurements. Amazing. Very helpful and makes it a lot easier to compare. Most other pertinent information tends to be standard, like what year the building was built, how many minutes to the nearest bus or train station, what amenities/utilities are included, what fees there are, etc.
Side note for women here: though many of us from the Western hemisphere tend to balk at Japan's distinct differences from our own places of origin in regards to gender equality, one advantage in Japan's favor is that they have buildings just for women (this will be stated in the ad), and it's also perfectly acceptable to ask the real estate agent/whomever if men/women are living in the building if that makes you feel more comfortable.
Fees
Japan has a ton of fees we just don't have anything like in the States. There are "key fees," fees I imagine are to change the locks after a tenant leaves, fees for the management staff, for keeping the building clean, for fire inspection, for insurance, for moving out before a certain amount of time has elapsed, and some just have no explanation. The pro tip here is to read the entire ad very carefully and always do the math when you're in your search. Some places will appear so cheap, but once you add it all up, they can be much more expensive than the places you thought you could do better than. Of course, agents are very helpful in this way.

What happens when you enter a real estate office?
Once inside the real estate office, an agent will sit down with you and you get hot tea, usually. I went to three or four different companies, and they were all like this. They'll ask you a variety of standard questions like your preferred price range, neighborhoods, etc., and then bring out a few or several information sheets on apartments they have available to see what you think. Directly from this information session, usually (or else they'll schedule you for another time), the agent will take you out in the company car to each place, where they'll show you around.

Foreigners as tenants: will you be rejected?
If they don't take the initiative, please make sure that they ask landlords if it's okay for a foreigner to be a tenant. I don't know how things are in Tokyo or other places where there are many more foreigners than here in Osaka (particularly compared to my city within the prefecture), but many landlords simply do not want foreigners to stay in their building. I'll take a brief break from concrete information here to provide an opinion. Perhaps, coming from a country like the US, where there are foreigners all around us and many of us don't have to trace too far back to get to when our families came to the country, it's easy to write this off as discrimination. And don't get me wrong, it is discrimination! But gosh, the cultural history is quite different here, and for now, I believe we just need to accept it for what it is. There are so many different cultural practices in Japan that I can see where Japanese landlords may have gotten burned in the past--for instance, people wearing shoes in the apartments, and the language barrier must make things so difficult. I am sure that when foreigners first started coming to live here, there were so many unspoken practices that seem so obvious a Japanese landlord may never have thought to tell their tenant, since it seems like common sense. So I choose not to feel offended by this denial. Change starts small, so I'll be the best tenant I can be, and change will gradually occur along with others doing the same. Now back to the real estate office.

Visiting apartments with the agent
Be upfront with them about questions and don't be afraid to ask. "Is it loud here?" for instance. And also be upfront if you don't like a place or something about it. There is a whole "politeness" culture here, but being direct helps not to waste anyone's time, it helps them to get to know what you like, and there's a possibility that they can address or fix what you have an issue with. This might just be Osaka, but we were also able to reduce the price of my apartment by talking to the agent (my host mom came with me to see apartments).

How's the quality of service?
The service is just incredible. Maybe it's because I was only looking at cheap places, but I found that the agents from the agencies I didn't end up going with didn't hound me. Refreshing. And yet, even though I was only looking at cheap places, I found that they were pretty attentive to me.

So let's say you've narrowed it down to one apartment you want.

Here's what you need
In many or most cases, I found that I needed my own Japanese phone number, though I imagine they would have accepted a close friend or host mother, someone with whom you're in frequent contact. With some companies, you need a Japanese bank account. The other thing real estate agencies often need is a guarantor. Depending on the company and the landlord or management company, you may not need a guarantor. I don't need one for mine. It will often say on the apartment ad. Please keep in mind that Japan is quite strict on this--if I'd needed a guarantor, my school would have signed for me, but if I had continued to live in Japan beyond finishing my classes, I would have needed to find another guarantor from that time. There was also discussion during my search of the fact that there are two types of guarantors. There's the one, like my school, who will sign for me, but it's basically just a signature--if something goes wrong and the landlord calls my school, they'd probably go, "Morgan who?" The other guarantor is the one who will pay for your ass if you screw something up, and is of course the more desirable option. Which one is accepted depends on the situation.

Once you decide on a place
I ended up using Century 21, which is pretty funny because I think it's an American company. After settling on a place, the agent will make some phone calls to make sure everything was in order--there is fire safety inspection, for instance--and then let you know when they have the go-ahead. I went into the office twice for paperwork. One day, I signed a bunch of things (be ready for paperwork. You may be asked for your hanko, a personalized stamp that acts as your signature here, but I was able to just sign--please ask if you'll need one before you begin the process), he made phone calls to set up my electricity and water to be ready when I moved in and made an appointment with the gas company to come in a convenient time for me on move-in day. A couple days later, I went in and paid the fee in cash (they do have some change, but exact change is better), and I received the key. That was it! I later received the finalized copy of the lease, which he had the management company, etc. sign, as well, in the mail. The agent is there to help you if you have any questions, of course; they are definitely sympathetic to foreigners not having any idea what the hell is going on.

Do not be afraid to ask questions to the agent, to your landlord, or to your management company. As I said above, a lot of things are simply common sense to the Japanese so you won't know until you ask. For instance, when I paid my first month's rent, no one explained to me what to do. I was given an account number, the name of the bank, and a location in unclear handwriting. I thought I'd be able to pay it at a convenience store like I paid my utilities. After hurriedly texting with my (Japanese) friend on the last day of the month (a Sunday no less) I found out that the bank is actually related to the post office, so I can pay it at the post office (which was closed) or at one of their ATMs. She searched to find where one is, but once we tried depositing the cash, it turns out I needed an account with them. No one thought to explain any of this to me! Don't let it make you feel alienated.

How to search for apartments
I recommend just Googling (in Japanese) "[name of city/neighborhood/area/landmark you want to live in] mansion," and browsing what comes up. Do know that multiple real estate agencies will be advertising the same apartment so they will be in competition for you. When you find someone you like, stick with them and don't let yourself be poached. I also recommend against submitting too many applications at one time for this reason--you will get overloaded.

I noted at the start of this post that I wrote it almost a month ago. In the next post, safety concerns when living alone in Japan!

What makes me special makes me alone? (culture shock)

I originally wrote this post November 24th, almost exactly three months into my stay in Japan. I thought it'd be interesting to post this and show a bit of my culture shock:

The USA is a pretty individual-centric country and culture, I think most would agree. I don't consider myself "a rebel," but since I was a kid, I consciously valued being "weird." I liked finding what was different about me and embracing that--by high school, I had created a solid style of fashion for myself with lots of wild prints and colors combined together in a way that I feel goes together (though some may disagree). I also went into the arts for my career, which is a great place to display what makes me different and special.

So it's interesting being in a country that is group-centric. Just from naturally mimicking people around me, and consciously trying to fit in so I don't stick out so much, I know I act differently here from how I normally do in the States. And yet, I can't do anything about the fact that I'm tall, blonde, blue-eyed--I swear, when I see myself reflected in mirrors in train stations, in pictures, etc., I seem to just reflect light. I am a beacon of white foreignness.

Walking to class today, I was struck by the thought that, by merely existing in this country, there's a lot that is inherently special about me. I mean, for the first time in my life, I am in a minority. Based on everything I said before, it seems like I would like this situation. But it's actually quite lonely.

Being different means that people don't know how to act around me. They don't know what to say or do, how to look at me, what languages I speak or don't. It means that a lot of glances slide past me and a lot of voices don't reach me. It can be pretty isolating.

What has been your experience visiting or living in a foreign country?

"Gaijin Hunters:" Who are they and how do I avoid them?

Some of you may have heard the term "gaijin hunter" (gaijin hantā or 外人ハンター) before. For those of you who haven't, gaijin, in Japanese, means "foreigner," so this term refers to someone who "hunts" or targets foreigners. I imagine Japan is not unique in this, but I'm not knowledgeable enough to know about instances in any other cultures, so I'm reporting from a purely Japanese standpoint.

I am not writing this to scare you, I am not writing this to make a broad statement about all Japanese people, and I am certainly not claiming that there are not people from my own country or elsewhere who act like this. However, these are real experiences I've had a significant number of times, so it is worth warning you so you don't get hurt or waste your time in or outside of Japan.

A gaijin hunter is simply a Japanese person who targets foreigners. The goals of these "hunters" are quite various, but they all commonly specifically seek out foreigners for one reason or another. I heard about these people well before I came to Japan. I was living in Los Angeles at the time, where there is a relatively large Japanese population, and I encountered many gaijin hunters there before I came to Japan (despite them being the foreigners). Since coming to Japan, I have come into contact with countless hunters, as well, so I can verify that this is a very real issue.

A gaijin hunter can be a man or a woman, and they can target men, women, or any foreigner regardless of gender--it really depends on their motive. Here are, in my experience, the three most common gaijin hunters.

"Foreigner as Fashion" Hunter
This type is one who collects foreigners because gaijin are currently very en vogue in Japan. Hanging out with foreigners implies to others that the hunter is worldly and probably speaks English or some other language. There are some of these FAF's at my school, where there are a lot of international students. They're easy to spot because no matter when you see them they're always surrounded by foreigners with no Japanese in sight. A tendency with this kind of hunter in particular, who collects foreigners to constitute a group (rather than individuals), you will probably find that they don't really pay attention to what you say or talk about anything incredibly personal with you. I had a friend get hunted by an FAF recently; my friend got invited to lunch and assumed it would just be the two of them, but when she arrived there were a bunch of other people at the table, and they were all foreigners. The hunter didn't speak much English, didn't introduce my friend to any of them, and the most conversation my friend had was the hunter making statements like, "This is my scarf," and "These are my earrings. Do you want to touch?" This girl clearly wanted to be seen surrounded by foreigners and didn't much care to interact with any of them individually.

"Foreigner for Fluency" Hunter
These hunters want to be around foreigners so they can get their English or other foreign language skills very good. This is one of the most common types in my experience. These hunters are very, very easy to pick out because if you speak Japanese to them, they will never or rarely respond to you in Japanese. I had a conversation partner in Los Angeles who was like this. I met him very early on in my studies when I couldn't carry on a conversation, so I didn't notice so much at first, but eventually his obstinance became very pronounced and I stopped seeing him. He reached out to me a few months later (in English, of course) and I wrote back that I was taking a language pledge for an immersion program to speak only Japanese for eight weeks and specifically told him to write back to me in Japanese, and he still wrote back in English. Unbelievable.

I'm not suggesting that there is some inherent obligation of the Japanese person to practice Japanese with you (if you're studying), but with FAF's there is a clear avoidance of using English (or whatever your language is, if they speak it). In the case of the guy I just mentioned, we met through a conversation exchange website. He was very concerned about advancing his English in order to maintain his visa to stay in the States, which is entirely understandable, but our entire relationship was predicated on language exchange, so that was selfish of him not to practice with me.

A note about the Foreign for Fluency hunter: it's happened to me a few times where this kind of hunter will speak or write to me in Japanese for the first few days, or weeks that we're in touch, but then they suddenly just stop using Japanese and never go back.

"Foreigner as Trophy Wife/Husband" or "Foreigner as Datable Object" Hunter
This is another very common hunter. Probably the easiest way to pick the FATW/H and FADO hunters is that they will bring up dating very early. This is a huge red flag and based on my experience is reason enough to move on. Other than that, I think you'll sense that they're not really talking to you; there's some kind of removed quality about them. I once had a FATW hunter tell me he "used to like black chicks up until last summer but now he likes white girls." That should be a pretty clear indicator (and that was in the States, btw)! This guy also found out about my YouTube channel and watched every single video, and he also lost it when I told him I didn't want to talk to him anymore, telling me he had a cold the day we met and I didn't get the right impression of him and so forth (we'd chatted back and forth for a week or two and met in person once). I recently had an experience here in Osaka with a guy who got connected with me through a mutual acquaintance because he was looking for an English teacher (no pay, just casual). I like teaching, I like meeting new people, and I guess I am ridiculously giving of my time, so I decided to give it a shot. I learned my lesson about sharing my YouTube channel, but this guy found and watched every single video I have posted on Facebook after we'd been connected (the videos are all quite old--I'd forgotten they were there). He was very pushy and impatient, calling me on Facebook Messenger and sending me messages all the time before we'd even met, and when we met the one time (why did I even bother), he brought up dating and I told him I was not interested. Yet, the next thing I know he's trying to make multiple plans very far in advance to drive me to Nara (over an hour's drive), baseball games, and so on, as well as suggesting we go to karaoke this weekend, which has nothing to do with me teaching him English.

All of the hunters have one trait in common that is easy to notice: they will approach you. The Japanese tend to be very shy, so it is seriously uncommon for one of them to just go up to a foreigner and start talking. I am not at all suggesting that every Japanese person who approaches you is a gaijin hunter, but be on your guard. Some Japanese people are just particularly outgoing or confident, or they may have lived abroad or grown up around foreigners. People in the Kansai region also tend to be pretty friendly, so don't assume that anyone who strikes up a conversation with you is a hunter--just watch for red flags. The Foreigner for Fluency hunter is the easiest one to spot very early on if you're studying and confident enough to converse; it becomes clear very quickly, so I just make a mental note not to waste my time with them.

There are other kinds of hunters, to be sure, but these are probably the three most common. There can be overlap, and some hunters can be all three of these.

Being a hunter does not make someone an inherently bad person, but it does reflect their self-centered motives, and using foreigners in this way is discrimination. Using anyone, period, is already bad enough but using behavior that is markedly different from how you act with your fellow nationals when you're around people of a certain race or nationality is wrong.

The good news is that I have never felt that my safety was at risk--particularly with the hunters who are trying to date foreigners, I've never been pressured to go somewhere or do something with them.

Studying a foreign language and being interested in a culture or a place is great, but it can be easy to idealize that place and everything (and everyone) in it. I am not sharing this information with you to corrupt your idea of Japan or imply that everyone here is evil and you should be scared. However, I think the best of people by nature and have tended in the past to give chances over and over for people to prove me wrong. I didn't want to believe that people were trying to use me, but I have had innumerable encounters with these hunters. I am sharing this in the hopes of educating you and saving you a lot of wasted hours with people who aren't worth your time. Thank you for reading. Till next time!

Japanese "In Groups" and "Out Groups"

If you've studied Japan much, you've probably read about or gotten a sense of the Japanese concept of "in groups" and "out groups." One's "in group" can be one's family, one's social circle, members of one's company, or even one's country--it really depends on the context. It follows, of course, that the "out group" is made up of anyone who doesn't fall into the "in group" one's discussing at the time.

This all seems pretty readily understandable. These groups determine with whom you share your actual opinion, how much of yourself you reveal, and it also changes your level of formality or how aloof you appear.

I thought I had a decent understanding of this concept. And then I started shopping.

In stores here, even in relatively small ones, if there are departments, employees are assigned to one, and they do not intermingle. I used to work for a grocery store where everyone did everything: in a given shift, we'd stock shelves, unpack shipments, work on the register, help out in the flower section, etc. Basically the complete opposite. And here's how I came to understand this:

I'd ask an employee who'd be near to the department where the product I had a question about or was looking for was--they'd be standing on the other side of a walkway between some shelves--and they wouldn't know a thing about it. They wouldn't know where it might be, they wouldn't know what brands they might have, nothing. This is also the case at my school--it's like that idiom, the left hand doesn't know what the right hand is doing, has come alive. One department has absolutely no idea what is going on at another. And this is even in the office that is dedicated to helping foreigners' times at the school go smoothly. They don't know if the career center can help me, they don't know what cafeterias are open, I have no choice but to go out on myself to individual areas of campus and find the answers.

Another example of this concept's integration into daily life here is the sheer amount of divisions they have for geographical areas. In the States, we'll have a library system for a given city or geographical area and then branches for various neighborhoods, but they all are part of the same library. Here, instead of having an Osaka library system, there are dozens of libraries all completely independent of each other that do not trade books back and forth or look anything remotely like what we have in the States. Also, my host family does not make it out of their neighborhood very often. They have a community center and the girls' schools here, their grocery store close by, all their friends live within a few blocks, and that my host dad's parents live a 20 minute drive away is considered far, so we only saw them about once a month, as opposed to my host mom's parents whom we saw about every week.

It is definitely different from the environment in which I was raised. A very key concept, and helps one to understand a great deal about Japanese culture, so please look into it! What is the culture like where you're from? Is it one large community, or many small? Is it as clearly divided as Japan? Let me know in the comments!

Am I a hypocrite? Why is everyone else so much BETTER THAN ME??

I recently wrote about not comparing yourself to others and about being in the highest level Japanese my campus offers. I said in the latter post that I'm intimidated by my classmates at the same level. In only our second class, I found myself panicking, wondering if I really belong in this level and how everyone is so much better than me, how they understand and know so many more words than me, and how they can speak so much better and more naturally than me.

And then I realized I'm being a complete hypocrite. I'm not practicing what I preach. One thing is that I spent most of the month-long winter break not speaking Japanese, certainly not conversationally anyway, and instead speaking English all day every for three weeks while my mom and step-dad were in the country. The other factor is that, since I came home from the vacation two days before the semester started, I have not slept well. This will be continued in a post about living alone in Japan, but my upstairs neighbor has been a serious nuisance and kept me from sleeping through the night once in the last three weeks or so, so I'm a little addled on coffee and not thinking too clearly.

Yet another factor that makes some of my classmates intimidating is that three of my classmates were in the same level last semester (it's required to take Japanese, so they're taking it again). So, though we're now at the same level, some of us have been studying at this level longer than others. Surprisingly, I am one of two Americans, and one of three Western people--the other five are from either Hong Kong or China, so I do have to allow for some advantages they have with kanji.

Anyway, I guess it just goes to show that what a person teaches best is often what they're worst at. It's important to keep things in perspective, yet also remember we're human and deviate from what we know to be a good way of thinking. Good luck in your studies!

High-level Language Ability = God?!

I wrote last month on comparing yourself to others, and this is a continuation in the same vein.

As of this semester, I am studying at the highest level of Japanese that my campus offers. Even last semester, a level lower, when people would find out that distinction they would invariably say, "Wow!" or shock in some way. Most of them would then shift the focus onto their own ability and how bad they feel that it's so incomparably lower. Somehow, when people start to perceive a significant difference between their own ability and another's, the person classified at a lower level seems to suddenly think that there's no way the two of them have anything in common. I'm blowing the situation out of proportion, but it really feels almost like people are starstruck sometimes.

When I went to a Japanese immersion program in 2014, I was at level 2 out of 6, I think, and I definitely remember meeting the level 6 students (of whom there were only about 6--there were closer to 25 or 30 in mine) and reacting the same way. Wow! I'd think. Having a person at such a level beyond my own was like looking up at a mountain I didn't know how they'd climbed. And yet, one of my closest friends from that summer, with whom I'm still in touch, was one of the people in that level. We were still able to communicate in our target language, even though I hadn't yet learned a lot of very basic grammar, vocabulary, etc. and she had lived in Japan for multiple years.

Now that I'm on the other end, I have to say that, yes, it's nice to have my accomplishment recognized. Until a few days ago when a new friend called me out on it, I was quite sheepish about even saying it. My language ability is something I've put a lot of time into, and I'm proud of it. Yet it also makes me feel like I become unrelatable. This made me wonder about pros all over the world and how they must react to such praise. Famous tennis players, contest and prize winners, accomplished chefs, famous actors... If we took the time to get to know people, I think we'd find that everyone has someone they're surprisingly or even shockingly good and/or accomplished at. At the end of the day, we're all just people. We all have things we're better at and worse at than others. Andy Roddick may be excellent at tennis, but perhaps he can't do a handstand, or maybe he sucks at making omelets.

Another pattern I've noticed is that people think that, because I'm at a high level, my class must be easy. This is really something that I've heard multiple times. I'm sure if these people asking really took a second to think about what they're asking, they'd see that it makes no sense. The classes don't get any easier and they don't get any harder. There is always stuff to learn. Even people with an N1 on the JLPT likely could not discuss a lot of topics native speakers can like basic biology, theatre, outer space, health issues, etc. I also get questions about the format of my class--it's the same as the other ones. It's not like you suddenly enter into a secret society with rogue methods of teaching us the Divine Secrets of the Orient. And I'm sure people also think I don't make mistakes anymore. What's funny is that, at a different campus of my school, I hear there are even higher levels. So I and my classmates aren't even the most accomplished Japanese students at our school!

In line with my "The Danger of Comparing Yourself to Others" post, I also pointed out that we all have different strengths within our target language. Because I'm at the highest level offered here, people assume that I and my classmates are the best at Japanese. But I've heard some students even a couple levels lower than me who are shockingly great speakers, much better than me. I'm sure there are students below my level who are much better readers or their casual speech is better, or they speak with better grammar than me. I imagine some of these students could probably get into my level if they had the confidence, drive, or the desire to study up and ask. In the end, the levels are arbitrary--even within the same level, we all move at our own pace.

When you meet someone who's at a more advanced level than you in your target language (or any skill you're learning), rather than feeling intimidated, look to them for inspiration. You can even ask them a tip or two, and they might even be willing to be a resource to you during your study. With dedication and keeping at it, you will get there. Good luck!

The danger of comparing yourself to others

This doesn't have to be a religious post, but I think I will use zen to back me up here.

Don't compare yourself to others (in fact, not only does zen agree with me, but zen also says not to make comparisons in general--e.g., "this is a good opportunity," "this is a bad opportunity"). But we're coming from a linguistic standpoint today.

There are 12 students including myself in my Japanese speaking class. We're all "at the same level," but of course we've all come from different backgrounds. We all have different strengths within being at that same level--some, though they may not speak much in class, understand more than the rest of us, or maybe their kanji level is better, or maybe their writing skills are very strong. It's easy to look at someone else and judge them entirely based on what you see on the surface.

There's this guy, Y, who was our teacher's favorite for a while. He knew the answer to every question, and it really made me feel pretty deflated and unconfident. Particularly, at my American school, I was top of my class and practically the only person who talked. Having others top me was a situation I had to get used to. Yet, it bothered me that Y was always so adept at defining words and so on.

One day, I happened to sit next to Y (we normally sat on opposite ends of the room). And here's what I noticed: he was using his phone to look everything up! Phones/electronic dictionaries are totally allowed in our classroom, but he was doing it so invisibly that I hadn't noticed--and I don't think most others had, either.

The point is that I'd been beating myself up about not measuring up to him, but he was making use of a resource I wasn't. I'm not saying it's a bad thing that he uses his phone, and we all learn in different ways, but because I was creating this juxtaposition of myself with him, I felt like I wasn't good enough because I couldn't do what he could do. That confidence I lost in myself was a total waste!

What we lose when we compare ourselves to others is often due to something that isn't even there. Comparing ourselves is a method our mind has of creating obstacles for us. Conversely, it's a way of inflating ourselves unrealistically--in hindsight, I might not have been as good as I thought at my American university. It's best to feel content simply by our own actions.

Another story less related to language is about my host dad. He has energy that just never seems to disappear. This man is one of the most amazing people I have ever met (for reasons not related to his energy, as well). He runs, at least several miles a day, if not up to 30, he's building a deck in the backyard, sometimes he makes food, he works crazy hours and comes home at midnight gets like five hours of sleep a day, he is the most loving father and husband, and is just an all-around upbeat, level-headed guy. Most of this is simply in his nature, but I did learn today that he is an avid drinker of coffee on the workdays, which does explain some things. Here I was, thinking that I could never be as energetic as him, but it turns out that he does have some help!

As part of the same conversation, he said he was inspired by how quickly I've learned Japanese, and it sounded a bit like he was beating himself up over not being able to learn English more quickly, especially since he's going to a conference in March that he needs to be able to speak English for. But that is a cruel, cruel comparison to draw for oneself. He has two kids and a wife to support, and all these other things going on that I mentioned above in addition to hanging out with friends. It's amazing he even has time for all that he does!

Learning not to compare yourself to others is a great life lesson, and it definitely has strong ties to learning language--you really have to make the journey your own. I hope you can take this with you and use it to raise you up instead of cut you down!

Finals

Well, good grief. My powers to think are just about exhausted.

I thought I'd have until February to really settle into Japan, get past my culture shock and homesickness, and then decide if I wanted to try and stay here after my classes end next semester.

Within two days of each other, I was offered two incredible opportunities:

1) Being able to stay in Japan for the six months remaining on my visa once classes end, receiving help to pay my rent and travel.

2) A job at the Japanese immersion program I went to a couple years ago and have been yearning to go back to ever since.

Both choices are just too good, and they're ones I don't see a way of repeating. Either way, I can't lose, but it is a really hard decision.

On top of that, I'm trying to find an apartment to move into in ten days, and I have finals. Today is my birthday, and I have class and a final exam straight from 1 until after 6. Some birthday!!

I'm really just kidding about being indignant--I'm celebrating my birthday on Saturday, so today doesn't matter so much. But it is kind of a funny coincidence. That said, I did receive the gift of an extension on my zen paper! That is definitely a win.

I'm off to scrape my eyes across this research paper for my final later. Have a super day!

Using Music to Learn Japanese

Music is a great tool when learning a language. It's a fun way to learn vocabulary, and it helps get you in touch with the culture. It's also a great way to passively learn and remain immersed in the culture when you're not able to formally study, or if don't don't actually live in Japan.

Find songs you like!

This was tougher for me than I thought it would be. I'm not a fan of the "processed" sound of music these days, and Japan can really take that to a ten, so I was a little jolted when I first started listening to Japanese music on Japan-A-Radio on the Japan Radio iPhone app. After trying that, I started switching my iTunes over to the Japan store and looking at the top singles. I'd sample them and find artists I like (like Kana Nishino and Yumi Arai). But then one day at work, I searched for Japanese talk radio and, ironically, found a music radio station actually broadcasting out of Fukuchiyama, and it has been a godsend. This station plays so many kinds of music from so many different decades. And thank god for Shazam. It doesn't always work with Japanese music (especially since I like older stuff), but it has helped me to find a lot of songs and artists I like.

So once you've found songs you like, learn the words!

Even if it seems like total nonsense, it does help to get the words in your mouth, first of all, and then what happens is that, after you keep studying, you'll hear some of the words from the songs over and over in conversation and in articles and such. That's how you start to build a sense of what words are important. For instance, I originally learned "itsumo (always)" from a K-On! song.

But let's also keep realistic about studying the lyrics--remember, people don't talk like they sing. Have you ever heard someone describe a woman's behavior like: "With a rebel yell, she cried, 'More, more more'?"

Something else you can try that will make you feel really out of your element is finding a karaoke video of a song you like, and trying to sing along. They usually have furigana (the hiragana over kanji to let you know how it's read), so you should (in theory) be able to read everything. It forces you out of your comfort zone because you can't take time to say, "Oh, is that 'ha' or 'ho'?" With Japanese television and such, the titles move so quickly, that this is actually great training for reading quickly.

Please take these tips and use them to your advantage! How has music helped you on your journey?

I'm like a baby! GOO GOO

I am repeatedly upset at people who set up boundaries for themselves where they have no reason to. I take particular issue with this because it's usually grounded in science (this relates to a whole other post I will likely never write for this blog, but, in a nutshell, I think that, over being beings of science, humans are beings of emotion and are entirely too reliant on numbers, figures, and concrete information these days).

I hear people talk all the time about how they can't learn new skills because they're too old, and, in particular regard to language, I hear this whine from even people as young as myself. Yes, we've all heard about brain development and so on, and I could tell you that I've read studies that show that, when learning new skills, what mature-brained people lack in plasticity is made up by determination, but who the fuck cares! If you want to learn a skill, stop making excuses and just do it! Just because you're past this "critical period" doesn't mean that your brain has stopped functioning. If that was the case, none of our parents would be able to use computers or technology (humorous scornful comments against one's folks encouraged in the comments below).

All this is to say that I have been studying Japanese two or three years, have been in Japan for about three months now, and I'm finding that I have begun to say things I've never actually made a point to study, but have simply absorbed and regurgitated just as any child does when learning his or her own native language. A particularly proud moment for me was several days ago when I uttered an essential Osakan question, "chaun chau?" (ちゃうんちゃう?), which means, "That is the case, isn't it?" but is iconic of the Osaka dialect (so much so that there's a well-known "only Osakans can understand" conversation in existence). It's possible for us to easily attain information--it doesn't have to be a huge fight; if you just open the window, you'd be surprised how much stuff floats in on its own.

I have no problem stating that I'm aware I have a natural gift toward language. But I cannot help but think that, in addition to that ability, my positive attitude and lack of heed toward these perceived blockades has not exactly held me back. I believe this kind of thinking has really boosted my confidence and made me quite optimistic about my prospects. I believe anything is possible, so I act that way. Those people who value science over all else think there's no chance, and they act that way.

Life is amazing and full of unexpected surprises. Our brains are very complex and also full of surprises. Why assume there's no chance for success when you haven't even tried?

Let me know your experiences learning a foreign language. Am I just full of hogwash?

What is up with Japanese school scheduling?

Hello there.

I am writing to you today about the strangeness of Japanese scheduling. You might be thinking, "Oh she's talking about Japanese punctuality and how everything starts and ends on time."

Nope, it's something else.

I am actually writing to say that Japanese scheduling makes little sense to me. It's neither good nor bad, just different. But it really just don't make sense.

College classes in the States tend to meet Monday and Wednesday, Tuesday and Thursday, or one day a week. Occasionally, for language classes, there are instances of Monday-Wednesday-Friday. Of course, there are many variations across the country depending on how long the classes meet each time, etc.

When classes take place here seems to have little rhyme or reason. My lecture classes are all over the place--Tuesday at 1 and then Thursday at, say, 3:15. Another is Tuesday and Friday, and the classrooms are different depending on the day.

What is up with this?

With the States' scheduling, it's possible to choose a schedule where all your classes are earlier in the day and a student can have an evening job (or the other way around). It's easier to regulate one's day-to-day life. Does anyone know why Japanese scheduling is the way it is?

Oo-wee, what up with that. What up with that?

(Actually, in regards to "Japanese punctuality," it seems like Osaka might not be on the same page as the rest of Japan...)

When does speaking a foreign language stop being a party trick?

I imagine I'm not alone in this: learning a foreign language, there's something that makes me so giddy about hearing native speakers use vocabulary or grammar I've learned in conversation. For example, I remember when I learned the Japanese grammar, 〜ておく, which is a verb modifier that adds the meaning of "[such and such] done in preparation [for something]" (e.g., "I printed this out (in preparation)"). Learning that, I thought, "That's some weird grammar and quite specific." I didn't think it'd be used very often.

So you can imagine me being surprised and tickled when I realized that Japanese people use this grammar all the time.

What causes these sort of reactions is that we're learning the language with more mature minds instead of just absorbing it as our brain develops like we did with our native languages--we learn the language from a mechanical and structural standpoint, so there's a strange "behind the scenes" sort of feel when we see the puppeteers tugging strings around.

And, unfortunately, that can really make me feel disconnected from the actual conversation I'm having at a given time. Most recently, it came up with my host parents that there had been a death in my family when I was younger. As I told them the story, which had some pretty heart-wrenching plot points, I realized I was more caught up in structuring the sentences; more so than feeling sad about what happened, I was strangely elated by being able to tell the story. The emotions were so gruesomely converse that I felt a little mangled in the process.

So, I ask you the question: at what point does a language stop being a party trick, a skill you can show off by saying certain phrases or telling your friends how to say certain words? When does it become, above all, a realistic communication device? How do we facilitate that transition?

If you've had experience in the transition, let me know in the comments! Am I alone in this phenomenon?

Host Family Week 12: They know EVERYTHING ABOUT ME

I wish I'd been doing a better job about keeping you all up-to-date on my home-stay experience.

Overall, it's been very, very positive. They are just the most wonderful, open-minded, big-hearted, funny, kind people. I really do love them. And I think they love me, too. The five-year-old does, anyway--she often signs her letters to me (yes, letters. yes, we live in the same house) "I looooooove you" (in Japanese, of course--though I think she would love me in English, too, if she knew how to write it).

HOWEVER, I have to say that, holy crap, it is difficult moving into another family's house. It would already be difficult in another family's house in, say, my hometown in the States. Imagine all the difference down to the smallest details--things that seem like common sense to Family A are factors that Family B has never even stopped to think about. And unfortunately, on top of it being a different family in a different house, we're also talking about an entirely different culture in a country I had never been to. First off, there are just general practices and habits that tend to proliferate in the country, and a lot of them are different from what I'm used to in the States. And then, we've got all the other expectations and habits that this family in particular holds.

I completely recognize that this relationship is a two-way street. I am sure that the family has had a lot of frustrations I don't know about based on things I do or don't do that they have quietly beared. I completely acknowledge that and am very grateful. I also recognize that these sort of issues I'm having are an expected aspect of this relationship.

But oh man, I am just exhausted. I have natural tendencies to put others' needs before my own, and to want to do things "right." These two shortcomings on my part have combined to seriously disrupt my life in a lot of ways. Because, think about it: this family knows everything about me. They know how long I take in the shower, how often I wash my hair, when I get up, when I go to sleep, how much I eat, what I don't eat, what I wear every day, when I poop, what I do in my spare time, when I'm on my period, how often I wash my clothes, if my clothes have holes in them or other blemishes someone who's not doing my laundry probably wouldn't notice, how often I'm studying or goofing off, how often I exercise, and the list goes on. Another source of tension is that I haven't lived in a family environment where everyone's all up in my business in over eight years. I think I'd have trouble even just moving back into my own house growing up. On top of this, the mom, who takes great pride in keeping the house and everything in it clean and orderly, is far more detail-oriented than I am, and so she notices a lot of things I don't. All of this has led to some difficult and embarrassing conversations (though, one note I'll make here is that they have been incredibly sensitive to me and communicated very directly and calmly, which I realize is an uncommon skill), as well as more and more rules that make me feel more and more constrained and that seem like I'll just never be able to observe.

I want to be able to do it. I want to feel like I'm a member of the family, of equal standing, that I can live like they do. But I have well over two decades' worth of upbringing in a different environment, a different culture, with different rules, values, and expectations, and not only can I not expect myself to fully comply with my host family's style of life, but I also needn't expect that of myself. The fact is that I am not a part of this family to the same degree that the blood relations are. A trap I find myself in is that of my role as an actor and performer; what I love about my work is that I get "to try other people on." However, I've always maintained a boundary--I don't use my acting skills outside of training or work. So I find myself in a predicament where, as a way of coping, I would love to accept this as a challenge to my skill as an actor, and to "become" the role of "member" to this host family. But I owe it to myself to maintain some consistency. And, though I love playing pretend, I need to have some time where I can let my hair done, let my belly hang out, and just be American Morgan.

It's all a huge jumble; I have to meet them halfway and fulfill certain obligations and expectations as they are meeting me halfway and tolerating who knows what of mine. But through respecting, observing, and trying to protect the parameters I'm given, relaxing at home can be very difficult.

Now, think about this for a moment: I'm in an unfamiliar country with which I have no experience, I'm very far from home, I had tenuous connections at best in this country before I came here so my social circle is still quite rudimentary, and I'm prone to stress. I have classes from Monday through Friday, and am normally booked up for the weekend. When I'm home, I need to be able to relax. That has been difficult. I'm always concerned about the state of my room, of my luggage, of how I'm leaving my shoes in the genkan. I am a considerate person by nature, and this element of my personality, in addition to the pitfalls of mine I've mentioned above, are really taxed right now. I've lived with this family for twelve weeks so far, and I still have about five left. That's over a month. I don't want to be counting the days, and I'll be very sad to leave on one level, but I'll also be quite relieved. Particularly because of one other factor I haven't mentioned:

My host mom is a great chef. I love her food, and she makes a great variety of very balanced meals. But they're balanced for a Japanese person. It's not just for my tastes, but for my physical makeup, I need more fruits and vegetables. I've taken to cramming them as much as I can at school, but it's just not enough. I'm not used to eating pretty much any meat, let alone meat more than once in a day. So this, in itself, has resulted in a lot of physical distress, to be honest. That one, I really don't know how to resolve. I can't very well ask my host mom to make a special meal for me all by myself, especially when I'm trying to fit in here.

So, I suppose I'm writing this to give you an honest account of what living with a host family can be like. It is such a rewarding experience on the whole. From a "learning opportunity" standpoint, I've learned a lot about how Japanese families function, how they interact with other people, how households function differently from the States', and I've also learned a lot of Osaka-ben. I've also met some of the most wonderful people and been very lucky to be treated to all the opportunities they've provided. But it is an immense commitment. You really do have to be flexible, respectful, and cognizant of your own behavior.

I would love to hear your feedback and your host family stories, as well! See you in the comments!
Morgan

One more midterm

Hi folks,

I'm writing to you today because I decided to take a break from studying again.

I haven't studied much.

I have one more midterm tomorrow--my reading and writing class--and a paper due, and then I am (mostly) free. One of my teachers decided to have the midterm next week, so there you go. But I am mostly free.

This student stuff is exhausting. Midterms just seem too intense, at least for language, anyway. I appreciate unit tests, as I think they accurately show what you understood from the lessons. I imagine that midterms are conducted to gauge how much a student has retained from the class so far, but I don't think that's what it ends up showing. I think it shows that the student is able to study a lot in order to remember some information for a test, but I'm not sure it's anything more than cramming, which the student then immediately forgets again after the test. As long as the student understood the information well, they have the tools to continue their study and make an effort to accurately retain the information if they so choose. But at least at the university level, we're old enough to decide if we want to retain the information or not.

This turned into a big rant, but what do you think? Do you think tests have any purpose? Do you like the system you're in? What would you change?

Let me know in the comments!

Morgan

My adventure with tonsillitis in Japan!

This has been an interesting week. I think I’m allergic to MSG, based on some incidents I’ve had in the past with Chinese food (that, or some other chemical in Asian food). Regardless, I got a dish from the cafeteria a week ago Thursday and felt pretty bad afterword. I lost my appetite and just felt cruddy. Well, it was then that my immune system said, “NOW’S OUR CHANCE,” and decided to force me to take a break. By contracting tonsillitis.

I really didn’t feel tired, but was coughing quite a lot, and then finally, about a week after the cafeteria incident, my voice started to sound like it was coming out of a gramophone. And then it disappeared completely. This has been fun, considering that there are already communication issues. Before you get alarmed, I did go to a doctor, but hold on.

Through this experience, I have learned that Japanese people (well, I’m basing this on the five-year-old, really) are terrible at guessing charades. Let me tell you, I can do some charades. I can do them all day and I will win. And this girl just cannot guess what I’m trying to say. One fatal flaw in this communication farce is that they don’t understand that one finger up means, “wait a minute,” or, “just a second,” a gesture I reckon we’ve all taken for granted. But after a meal, I smiled and rubbed my tummy to say, “The food was good,” and she goes, “Your stomach hurts?” I mean, I ask you.

I have to say, though: people here are just so nice and unbelievably thoughtful that I can’t even stand it sometimes. The older host sister, made me little packets of cards that have essential phrases on them since I can’t talk. I am proud to say that “nan de ya nen,” an essential Osaka phrase, made it on the list. I’ll have to explain this another time. Part of what’s so overwhelming about this kind treatment is that they make little pomp or circumstance of it. The Japanese don’t tend to like drawing attention to themselves, so they just do things quietly, silently. My host sister didn’t say, “I made these for you,” she just said, “Here,” and when I tried to give them back (didn’t want to assume), she just said, “I’m giving them to you.”

The Japanese version of “I love you,” is known as something that only the rarest of couples say to each other (in strict moderation), or something you finally say at someone’s death bed. They think it’s weird how much we use the verb, and instead show their love through these kinds of gestures. It may not read so warm and fuzzy on paper, but I can say from experience that ya feel it!!!!! The people here are so welcoming to and nurturing of foreigners.

Switching back to tonsillitis here (which I’m just delighted to facilitate for you), it means that I had my first Japanese doctor experience. My host mom has really taken the “mom away from home” thing to heart, and bless her for it. She has been a rock star. She took me to a nearby doctor’s office with the five-year-old before kindergarten the other day. We signed up at 8:30 for an appointment and were seen shortly after they officially opened at 9. Apparently, the doctor doesn’t come to see you in your own room here (at least, at this office)—you go to see him. He asks if I understand Japanese, and the mom cautions him to maybe speak slowly. We go through the, “What hurts,” “Can you eat,” song and dance, and then he takes one look at my throat and it was all over. I think I’m understanding everything he’s saying as he goes on about giving me medicine and so forth, and then he asks if I have any questions. I go, “So it’s just a normal cold?”

And then, in perfect English, he goes, “You have tonsillitis. I’m going to give you some antibiotics.”

This would be the point where I do this Osaka reaction to something surprising or ridiculous where you just fall over.


I don't know what I was more shocked at--that I had tonsillitis or that he was patient enough to speak to me in English, despite being fluent in Japanese! What's up, Doc! This was not exactly the most metropolitan area.

So, I guess there's hope for those of you who don't speak much Japanese. English-speaking doctors might not be so uncommon!

Have you had an experience getting medical attention as a foreigner? Please share your story in the comments.

Another voiceless escapade:

The doorbell rings on Saturday evening while my family was out of the house, and I go down, thinking it’s them—the kids often ring the bell instead of waiting for the ‘rents to come unlock it. Well, it turns out it’s a delivery person. I open the door as he’s grabbing a box from the van, and when he turns back, he sees me. His eyes widen, his mouth becomes a perfect O—you would not believe the look of unmasked shock on this guy’s face (Japanese can be pretty good at concealing this sort of stuff—unless under extreme circumstances). Though not to his level, I was also pretty surprised that I was able to get out the words, “I’ve got a cold so… (I can’t really talk).” And then, despite my perfect Japanese sentence, he does this big mime with the pen and goes, “Sign…?” I swear, sometimes I think if a badger went around speaking Japanese here, no one would notice.

Well, till next time!
Morgan

My Big Debut in Japan!

Some of you know I’m pretty excited about this traditional form of storytelling here called rakugo (and it looks like I get to do an independent study on it next semester!). It came up around the same time as Shakespeare, so the language can be pretty hard to understand, even for native speakers. It’s performed by one person who plays all the characters, differentiating them through subtle physical and vocal changes. I was first exposed to it at the language school I went to last year. If you’re interested in watching a very excited British woman explain it more in detail, please click here. 

Anyway, I went by myself this past Saturday to a 10 AM performance. As expected, I was called out for being the only foreigner in the audience. As someone who enjoys clowning and performing for people, I think I take this “foreigner as zoo animal” phenomenon better than some of my fellows here, but it really can get exhausting always getting called out for being different when I’m just trying to blend in. Japan lives on blending in.

Anyway, it turns out this performance was more like a “Rakugo 101” sort of thing, so they explained how the performer, who’s allotted a folding fan and a small towel as his/her only props, can use the props as different objects. We all wrote down our names and ideas of how else to use them, and handed them in. They call a couple young boys up to the stage, who act out the different uses they came up with then go back to their seats, then they call up an adult. And then what do you know, they call me up to the stage.

Learn from me, people: when you come to Japan, I don’t care how cool you think your shoes are. Think very hard before you bring shoes here that will take you longer than immediately to take off. You will have issues.

I was wearing some Converse-style high-tops. I got down to the little staircase up to the stage and one of the knots just would not come undone. I was using the bottom stair to try and pry it off, and I RIPPED A BOARD OUT.

Most people in the audience, I think, didn’t see it happen, but the rakugo guy standing there was, despite comedy permeating every situation here in Osaka, was so stunned he couldn’t make a joke.

So I apologized about five times (which is like once in English, so maybe I’m rude) and just went up the stairs because I didn’t exactly have my tool belt on me.

These two rakugo guys are up there, and I plop down on the cushion in between them. They, of course, remark on my being able to sit seiza style because who’da thunk it—a  foreigner can sit with her legs folded! They are, of course, shocked that I’m even there, let alone have seen rakugo before, and, as it turns out, one of the three guys who came to my language school last year is actually quite famous, so that was even more surprising. Then, they ask how long I’ve been in Japan, and I say a month. That’s a reaction I never get tired of!

Well, it was then that I made the mistake of saying that I’ve done rakugo before. There was a rakugo club at the language school I went to last year, and I performed a short story at the talent show. In Japan, when you say something like that, there is just no way of getting out of displaying your talents, so I ended up murdering my way through this one-minute story I haven’t recited in over a year, but they all clapped and were very nice. They handed me this little envelope, and I very dazedly stumbled back to my seat with my shoes half on, as the rakugo guy at the stairs deliberately cacophonously “hammered” the stairs back together. It wasn’t until the next day that I even opened the envelope—there was 100 yen in it! That’s about 88 cents in American sense, but I earned money, which means I’m a PRO now!


That’s not even half my weekend, but certainly the most “write home about” news there was!

When the real family and host family collide!

So, as I've mentioned, I'm currently living in Osaka with a host family while I study here. They are the sweetest people--there's a five-year-old, a nine-year-old, and a mom and dad. They are all very Osaka, which is what I was hoping for, which means they are way less closed off than the Japanese are at least generalized as being, and are quite silly. They are also, as you could gather, speakers of the Osaka dialect, which I'm a student of, so it's great practice. More on that another time.

Anyway, tonight, after living with them now for four weeks, is the night they meet my mom (via video chat). Everyone is very excited to meet here, and, through an incident earlier today when I was trying to teach my mom how to introduce herself in Kansai-ben, it has been confirmed that all parties involved are quite silly and going to get along just fine.

I'm also making my mom's English beef stew (with beer!) tonight. That is the thing I am personally most nervous about. I never cook meat for myself, and it's also my first time cooking for them, so I hope it goes well. Wish me luck!

-Morgan

All the katakana you know is a lie

Okay, that may be an overstatement, but at least it got you to read. And it feels true, anyway.

I came to Japan for the first time about three weeks ago, and will be living here for about the next year. So that means I'm in the "Ooh, listen to what I noticed from my new and fresh culture-shocked perspective" phase. But I hope you do find it interesting and possibly helpful.

If you are taking Japanese, you have no doubt heard a lot of English words turned into katakana--katakanized? Can I say that? Yes, I will--and you have no doubt had one of two reactions:

1) Pff, so basically all I have to do is speak English but put the verb at the end--this isn't gonna be so hard.

or

2) This can't all be real Japanese.

If you had reaction 2, as I did, you are right. As I continued learning Japanese, I started wondering if maybe I was wrong--the same English words kept coming up (クラブ kurabu, which means "club," for instance--a girl I talked to today used 部活(ぶかつ)bukatsu, instead), and every time I looked up a word on Google Translate (which I stopped doing long ago--it's very inaccurate for Japanese), it would just give me katakana of the word I'd looked up.

Now that I'm in Japan, I have to say--they use far less katakanized words than I thought. And a lot of words I thought they would get (we used the word オノマトペ onomatope, which means onomatopoeia, in my Japanese classes all the time), they don't know (I think オノマトペ is just used by language specialists).

It's also worth mentioning that the people who do know English words are of a certain age. I'm staying with a family with kids aged 9 and 5, and anytime I used katakana, I get a blank stare. This also goes for the older generation.

I actually quite like that they don't use foreign words too much. I understand it's fashionable to use English in pretty much any circumstance (even I have already been converted--I was very tempted to use romaji headings on a recent presentation), but using one's own native words shows a national pride that I admire. Though their national fervor is likely not close to that of the French.

So what to do?
My recommendation to you is to use your teachers, your dictionaries, forums, and other resources to find out how to say everything you're learning in native Japanese (let's not get too picky about if it came from China 500 years ago). It's a good exercise in being able to communicate with anyone of any age or linguistic background. The whole point of learning a language is to be understood, so I encourage you to ensure your goal is accomplished by going a little outside of what's fashionable.

So, what do you think? Are you pro-katakana? Do you think English has no place in Japanese? Let me know your thoughts, opinions, and stories in the comments!