Japan is Calling Me ... Again

And why I wish I'd continued studying Japanese

I’m feeling the pull of Japan again. I lived there for five years in the early 90s, married into a Japanese family, and had two part-Japanese sons. Since packing up my tiny Japanese apartment many lifetimes ago, I have returned to visit countless times. Seriously, I’ve lost count. I wish I’d kept a record.

Now, as I struggle through the sludge of my current novel, I’m looking longingly at another story, glittering in the distance. I’m sure that one would be easier to write. To finish. It’s set in Japan, and all good things in my life are connected to Japan. In fact, the only thing that wasn’t easy about my life in Japan was the language.

I more than stumble and struggle through foreign languages. I destroy them. My mouth is a linguistic flame-thrower. My Japanese was so bad that my Japanese mother-in-law once begged me to stop speaking it.

I used to stuff things up all the time. I once told an eighty-year-old Japanese woman that I had a full vagina. I was a guest in her home, which was tucked away in a tiny village on Shikoku, the smallest of Japan’s four main islands. She offered me a third helping of Okonomiyaki, and I waved my hand in front of my face and said, “Oh no, thank you, my vagina is full.”

I meant stomach.

Another time, I went to a dentist in Tokyo. I was a bit nervous and tried to explain that.

“I think dentists are scary” was the sentence I managed to piece together.

The dentist looked thrilled, and his nurse giggled into her hand. Perhaps they didn’t hear me… so again.

“I think dentists are scary.”

The dentist puffed out his chest and strutted around the room, while the nurse giggled even more. It was only later when I recounted the story to a friend that she pointed out that “scary” and “cute” are similar in Japanese, and I’d been saying the latter. “I think dentists are cute.”

Although I’ve got to say, it was the most painless filling I’d ever had.

As Thoreau said, “The language of friendship is not words but meanings.” And I always meant well… But I regret not persisting with Japanese. I regret feeling embarrassed and giving up. I regret thinking I was too busy to spare a few minutes a day that over the years would’ve compounded into a deeper understanding of both language and culture. I regret it now because this country I love so deeply still calls me.

I can see a story in the distance, calling to me. Perhaps I’ll start learning Japanese again now, so I can do it justice. And this time, keep going.

What languages do you speak? Tell me in the comments below.

Jane x