I like Speaking Japanese

I had a friend in the Peace Corps who didn't know the Kyrgyz word for 'rain' so he called it 'sky ink.' A bit confusing, perhaps, but it still got his point across and has provided endless amusement for me whenever I remember that story.

To me, that story shows why languages are so fascinating. Each language has a strict set of rules - sentence pattern, verb conjugation, etc. - and yet, if you're creative, you can communicate without knowing all the rules. In essence, you can cheat.

It's easiest to cheat on vocabulary. Much like my Peace Corps friend did when describing 'rain,' you can talk your way around the problem spot. For example, if you don't know the word for 'wild boar' you can say 'a really big pig.' If that doesn't do it, you can say 'with really long teeth' (you probably don't know the word for 'tusks'). If you don't know the name for 'honeymoon,' you can call it 'marriage travel.' If you don't know the name for those little floating trays they serve alcohol on at some onsens, you can call them 'sake boats.' The possibilities are endless!

It's like a really big word puzzle and it's quite fun. And an added benefit is that people automatically think you're funny, even if you're not. Referring to 'rain' as 'sky ink' is pretty much gauranteed to get a few laughs. We don't have this flexibility in our own languages because we're too aware of the rules and anything outside of them is deemed inarticulate or uneducated. When speaking a second or third language, people find it charming when you make a few mistakes. Therefore, I will continue to charm and cheat my way through Japanese through the next month and a half and enjoy it thoroughly the entire time.

Guess who I ran into at the Yukata Matsuri?

The legend himself, Dirty Mario! Because he has taken it upon himself to prove every Italian stereotype to be true, he was cooking pizza, sporting a generous moustache, and gesticulating wildly to the bemused Japanese passers-by. And to really drive home the fact that he is, indeed, Italian he played his accordion on the sidewalk in front of the pizza stand! Mario pushed so many pieces of pizza on Travy and I that I felt full to my toes. Then, true to form, he gave us each a sweaty hug and said, "Heya! I've been-a waiting all day to touch a pretty woman!" and laughed his dirty laugh.

He may be dirty, but he makes some damn good pizza.
I don't know why I'm about to insert this piece of pizza into my nose.Does he look Italian to you?

Best Engrish of the Day

'I think that I like the home.'

I'm relieved that I won't need to call Child Protective Services for Mr. Kadono, though I'm left dangling with that 'I think . . .' Could things be bad at home and he just doesn't know it?

'My birthday on December twentyth six. My birthday eat cake. It is Derishas.'

I don't even know where to begin on this one, though I give Miss Imazue an A for effort. At least she was able to put three sentences together! I also like the idea of a birthday eating cake, if a birthday had a physical form. Very creative and avante garde.

'I don't think I like baby.'

Considering that the student who wrote this is only fourteen and just getting involved in all of those mixed-up adolescent feelings, I'm pleased to see that he's lucid enough to recognize that there is only one thing that could make his life more awkward right now - spawning.

And here's my personal favorite from today:

'I think that Miss Ailey is a great teacher.'

Aaaaaaaawwwwwww!!! Alright, that one is a perfect English sentence and obviously not funny, but I posted it so that everyone can see how awesome I am. That's right, love me. Adore me. I am deserving.

Maybe I've Done Something Right

One of the benefits of working in a small school is that I know each of my students by name, I can recognize their handwriting when grading tests, and I've come to understand their personalities. For example, Maeba-san loves to play the clarinet, but she hates cleaning and will do anything she can to get out of it, including faking menstrual cramps or conveniently losing a button on her blouse. Ujou-kun wants to be a translator when he grows up, but all he really thinks about is soccer. Kitani-chan isn't very good at English, but she has a great sense of humor and will always yell random English phrases in the hallway, such as “Wow! Unbelievable!” Over the past ten months, I've really gotten close to some of them, so I shouldn't have been surprised when a group of 8th grade girls cornered me in the hallway.

“When are you getting back from Seattle?” they asked.

I told them that I'd be back very, very late on June 17th. “But that's your birthday!” they said and hurriedly whispered among themselves in Japanese

I was shocked; they'd remembered my birthday?!

“Where's a calendar? What days will you be at home?” We looked at the calendar together while they chatted rapidly in Japanese and I tried to disguise my confusion. Why were they being so persistent and mysterious? “Please be at home on June 24th and be there ALL DAY. Promise that you'll be there?” I promised, but I asked why.

“Because we want to bring you something for your birthday!” Morimoto-san yelled and Kitani-chan hit her in the arm, “Ssssshhhhh!!! It's a secret!”

I had that tingling in my scalp that you get when your Mom kisses your forehead or your Dad tells you that he's proud of you. It was the same feeling I got in Kyrgyzstan when one of my students introduced me to her parents and said, “I've told them all about you and that you're why I want to learn English.” And I had the same feeling in Spain when one of the German girls in my class told me that she'd had a bad opinion of Americans, but after meeting me she'd realized that maybe her prejudices were wrong.

I don't know quite how to describe it, but I think it's the feeling that maybe, just maybe, I've done something right.

Dirty Mario and His Dirty Posse of Traveling Silver Salesmen

Doesn't the name just say it all? College jokes aside (where are Reuben, Kevin, and Newt when you need them?!), I had never truly experienced a 'Dirty Mario.' This past weekend, however, all of that changed!

Takeno Beach in all it's pre-Mario glory.

Picture this: Liz, Rob, Travy, and myself relaxing at Takeno Beach, taking in the sunshine, the turqoise water, and the lack of people.

Now picture this: An old, fat, Italian man in his boxer shorts (and JUST his boxer shorts) with a team of equally shady characters. Dirty Mario and His Dirty Posse of Traveling Silver Salesmen have entered the scene.

Dirty Yuki, preparing some dirty Asian/Italian fusion antipasto.

On arrival, we noticed the presence of other foreigners on the beach. Naturally, my curiosity was piqued, but Liz was reluctant to converse as 'we might not be able to escape.' A valid concern, but we didn't have much time to contemplate our situation as one of the foreigners yelled 'hello' and gesticulated wildly (we knew then that he was Italian) for us to come and sit with them. We did.

After talking with Dirty Mario and His Dirty Posse of Traveling Silver Salesmen, we discovered that they were a mixed trio of Italian, Sri Lankan, and Japanese descent. Their life goal was relaxation. Their plan to achieve it was sitting on the beach. Their source of funding was intermittently selling silver out the back of their van at various locations across the country. Dirty Mario's life philosophy went something like this: "Hey! I see a beautiful woman, I say, 'Hello, beautiful woman!' Then I drink some wine and eat some food and I like the accordion! Life is good!"

And then Dirty Mario and His Dirty Posse of Traveling Silver Salesmen cooked us a fusion of Italian and Japanese food, right there on the beach. They passed around beer and cognac and spoke in Italian and Spanish and English and heavily accented Japanese and it was true - life was good.

Ailey and the man himself - Dirty Mario.

Not the best coffee I've ever made.

It was Saturday morning. Liz, Rob, and I awoke groggy, sweaty, and in some serious need of caffeine. "Never fear!" I said, valiantly. "I've got true Starbucks coffee - guaranteed to give you what you need!" I went to work making the coffee; not too strong, but not too weak. I am, after all, something of a connouisseur. Rob asked for his with milk and sugar - I gave it a stir and handed it over.

"Is this a special kind of coffee?" Rob asked. "It's got a really fruity flavor."

A fruity flavor? Rob must be a connouisseur, like me! I drink the same Starbucks coffee every morning and I never noticed a fruity flavor! Prepared for an enlightened experience, I took a big sip of my coffee . . . and promptly spat it back into the cup.

"What the h--- is this?!" I said. "It's vile!" I sniffed the water in the teakettle - it seemed okay. I sniffed the coffee - it seemed okay. I sniffed the milk - it was fruit yoghurt.

"I'm such an idiot, Rob. I'm sorry."

"That's alright," he replied. "But I'll always remember this as the day that a person from Seattle put fruit yoghurt into my coffee." And he finished the cup.