Something that greatly surprised me on our trip to
Japan was how little knowledge of English there is the country. Now, I realize that
makes me sound like the archetypal American lout expecting to be addressed in
my native language wherever I go in the world. It’s easy enough to fall into
that trap.
However, I did think that in Japan, which is maybe the
most Western of any Asian country – they play baseball there, for goodness' sake!
– English would be quite common.
Wrong. In Naha City, the capital of Okinawa, we
struggled to find a restaurant with street-side menus in English. At our hotel
in Tokyo, we struggled when asking the polite, but bewildered, clerk if there
would be coffee available in the lobby when we left at 6:00 the next morning.
He looked sympathetic, wanting so much to understand us, but remained clueless.
(Okay, to be fair, we were staying at cheap hotels, maybe not often used by Western
tourists, so the standards are no doubt different.)
In any case, it began to feel that the Sofia Coppola
film “Lost in Translation” rings completely true.
Of course, Japan presents special challenges for
English speakers. If you travel in countries that use an alphabet based on the
Latin of ancient Rome (which, by my count, is about 80% of all countries) you
can squint your eyes and almost make out how a word reads, no matter how
foreign it may be. Or at least find it in a phrase book. Or make a comical attempt at pronouncing it to a hotel clerk.
Places like Japan are much different. Without knowledge of the language, it’s impossible
to make out anything of signs, maps, menus, practically anything written in
Japanese.
The only Japanese characters I had any clue about previously were
入口. I partially remember this
from our trip to China some years ago, where I eventually grasped from
signs in the Beijing metro that 入口 means “entrance”. Teasing out this bit of understanding was no great
lift, however, since the Chinese word was accompanied with its English counterpart.
That was also the case in the Tokyo metro. Chinese characters
are employed in the Japanese kanji writing
system, and the word for “entrance” is written identically in both languages.
It helps that these two characters are quite simple, made up of only a few lines,
unlike many Japanese characters that are much more baroque. For example, the kanji for “bear” is 熊, which, if you think of the
little lines at the bottom as legs, you could almost imagine as a bear. Or maybe not.
Naturally, if you know the meaning of the two characters in 入口, it all makes sense. 入 means “entering”, and 口 signifies “gate” or “mouth”,
which is especially easy to visualize. Likewise, the word for “exit” 出口, is made up of 出 (“out”) 口 (“gate”).
That’s about the extent of my Japanese reading
comprehension. I have no clue how “entrance” and “exit” would be pronounced in
Japanese, or Chinese for that matter. Nothing to brag about really.
I did learn one additional word on this trip. We spent
part of one day in the town to Takayama, which means “tall mountain”, and is
written as 高山. I like the simplicity and obviousness of 山, the character for yama ("mountain"). If I ever got tattooed with a Japanese inscription, it would
probably include 山.
A sign in Takayama warning about bears, featuring three of the six kanji characters I can recognize. |
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