These past few weeks, I've been rushing around the streets of Nagoya achieving what in the real world west would amount to approximately jack shit. However this is Japan and a productive day is measured now by tiny triumphs of navigation and breakthroughs in communication.
For example, I'm sitting in my apartment this evening with a glowing sense of satisfaction. Why? I took the 20 min subway ride to Sakae, found (despite the best efforts of every local I questioned) the English language bookshop, and bought the study books I've been hankering after these past few days.
Fantastic, I know. A titanic effort. I couldn't be more proud.
Now, I sit here and a part of my brain is jumping up and down, pointing out how ridiculous that sounds. You bought some books? In a shop? The mind boggles.
OK, only a very small part of my brain is saying that. The rest is perfectly happy doting over my shiny bag of goodies. Having set the bar so low, life has been very simple for me. I've had a great time! Order a coffee and a sandwich? In Japanese? High five. Chat up the barmaid? In Japanese? Great. I can't lose. I hope that this giddy excitement lasts all year. Hell, I hope it stays with me when I eventually head back to Europe. You'll be the first to know when the rose tinted specs don't fit anymore, I promise.
Now, something interesting! 5 Things, actually. How exciting.
1 - "Perhaps, possibly, maybe..."
As I wandered from corner to corner, blindly turning left and right and left again, I stewed. Why can't I get a straight answer in this country!
When your naive protagonist cheerfully locked the door of his apartment that same morning he didn't think twice about such trivialities as maps or a street address.
I had taken maybe 2.5 seconds out of my morning coffee/cereal slurp to mash some half-assed queries into Google Maps. Satisfied that the red dot confirmed the existence of a bookstore somewhere in Nagoya, I closed the window and thought no more of it.
I mean, I can always ask directions when I'm near, right?
Wrong.
Thoroughly lost, I swaggered up to the parking attendant, ready to unleash a storm of well practised Japanese. Naturally, his face was a picture of pure horror as it slowly dawned on him that this Gaijin was making a beeline for him. He tried looking the other way, pretending he hadn't seen me, his mind in overdrive playing out all the terrifying possibilities my relentless approach might entail.
"Excuse me, where's the nearest bookstore to here?" (translated)
Rather than putting him at ease, this banal request had the opposite effect. Clearly, he hand't the first clue where the nearest bookstore was. But was he going to admit that? No way! What ensued was a cringeworthy exchange during which I tried to extract a direct answer, while he danced around my clumsy interrogation with delicate nothing-statements such as "a bookshop, hmm", "there must be one nearby", "are you sure you're in the right area?" and, taking first place: "I think it's closed at this time".
Closed. Are you shitting me? It's 2pm on a thursday, and you're telling me the bookshop is fucking closed.
After a few rounds of this I finally got the point, thanked him profusely for wasting 5 precious minutes of my life, and moved on.
So I'm still getting used to this indirectness that plagues the Japanese. There are two sides to it. When you understand this game and it's subtleties, it would be clear as day when the parking attendant is just trying to say "I don't know, piss off" just with more bowing and smiling. Is my clumsy straight-talking just social Tourette's to them? Without a doubt. Is their roundabout prevaricating excruciating to the average westerner? Oh yeah. Who's right? Tough call. Give it 50 years and I doubt many traditional Japanese values will have survived the rampant westernisation that started at the turn of the last century.
So case closed, but for now I promise I'll put up, shut up, and print off a map next time.
Keep your ear to the ground for Part 2, in which I'll talk about who-knows-what for a little too long. Subway etiquette, fucking good sushi, partying salarymen and something else, I'm sure.
For example, I'm sitting in my apartment this evening with a glowing sense of satisfaction. Why? I took the 20 min subway ride to Sakae, found (despite the best efforts of every local I questioned) the English language bookshop, and bought the study books I've been hankering after these past few days.
 |
| Right? |
Now, I sit here and a part of my brain is jumping up and down, pointing out how ridiculous that sounds. You bought some books? In a shop? The mind boggles.
OK, only a very small part of my brain is saying that. The rest is perfectly happy doting over my shiny bag of goodies. Having set the bar so low, life has been very simple for me. I've had a great time! Order a coffee and a sandwich? In Japanese? High five. Chat up the barmaid? In Japanese? Great. I can't lose. I hope that this giddy excitement lasts all year. Hell, I hope it stays with me when I eventually head back to Europe. You'll be the first to know when the rose tinted specs don't fit anymore, I promise.
Now, something interesting! 5 Things, actually. How exciting.
1 - "Perhaps, possibly, maybe..."
As I wandered from corner to corner, blindly turning left and right and left again, I stewed. Why can't I get a straight answer in this country!
When your naive protagonist cheerfully locked the door of his apartment that same morning he didn't think twice about such trivialities as maps or a street address.
I had taken maybe 2.5 seconds out of my morning coffee/cereal slurp to mash some half-assed queries into Google Maps. Satisfied that the red dot confirmed the existence of a bookstore somewhere in Nagoya, I closed the window and thought no more of it.
I mean, I can always ask directions when I'm near, right?
Wrong.
Thoroughly lost, I swaggered up to the parking attendant, ready to unleash a storm of well practised Japanese. Naturally, his face was a picture of pure horror as it slowly dawned on him that this Gaijin was making a beeline for him. He tried looking the other way, pretending he hadn't seen me, his mind in overdrive playing out all the terrifying possibilities my relentless approach might entail.
 |
| It was such a good day, until now. |
"Excuse me, where's the nearest bookstore to here?" (translated)
Rather than putting him at ease, this banal request had the opposite effect. Clearly, he hand't the first clue where the nearest bookstore was. But was he going to admit that? No way! What ensued was a cringeworthy exchange during which I tried to extract a direct answer, while he danced around my clumsy interrogation with delicate nothing-statements such as "a bookshop, hmm", "there must be one nearby", "are you sure you're in the right area?" and, taking first place: "I think it's closed at this time".
Closed. Are you shitting me? It's 2pm on a thursday, and you're telling me the bookshop is fucking closed.
 |
| Fuck. |
So I'm still getting used to this indirectness that plagues the Japanese. There are two sides to it. When you understand this game and it's subtleties, it would be clear as day when the parking attendant is just trying to say "I don't know, piss off" just with more bowing and smiling. Is my clumsy straight-talking just social Tourette's to them? Without a doubt. Is their roundabout prevaricating excruciating to the average westerner? Oh yeah. Who's right? Tough call. Give it 50 years and I doubt many traditional Japanese values will have survived the rampant westernisation that started at the turn of the last century.
So case closed, but for now I promise I'll put up, shut up, and print off a map next time.
Keep your ear to the ground for Part 2, in which I'll talk about who-knows-what for a little too long. Subway etiquette, fucking good sushi, partying salarymen and something else, I'm sure.
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