The Flipside

Living in a foreign country, especially one as foreign as Japan, really makes me aware of how many little things in life I have taken for granted. Sometimes accomplishing these little things is difficult. Sometimes it is impossible.

Dry Cleaning: I dropped off trousers and a silk scarf at my local dry cleaners, the materials aren't particularly exotic, so I didn't expect any problems. But when I gave the clothes to the lady behind the counter she frowned and gave them back to me, pointing at the tag. Although it said 'dry clean only' it wasn't in Japanese, so she didn't know what to do with it. I thought taking it to the dry cleaner was enough, but apparently there is more to it than that? She then kept shaking her head, pausing, and trying to explain in very simple Japanese (kind of an oxymoron). Finally, she produced a very long and reasonable sounding explanation. She spoke slowly and clearly, looked directly at me, and paused to make sure I was following her. It was so compelling; I just had to nod in return. But I didn't understand a word she was saying. At the end she said, OK? and gestured like she could take the clothes after all. I said, ok? She nodded, so I said OK! I gave her my clothes and hoped for the best.

Asking Questions: I can ask for directions in Japanese (x wa doko desuka?), but unless the answer involves copious amounts of pointing and gesturing, I can't understand the answer. I can ask 'how much' (ikura desuka?), but I can't ask if it is on sale or not. I recently cobbled together a passable question for 'what is this' using one of the words for what (nande) and this (kore). Between my roommate, the saleslady, and I, and using broken English and broken Japanese, we were able to piece together the answer.

Cotton balls… I have yet to see them in the store, but I don’t know how to ask if the store carries them or where I go to get them.

Concert tickets… every link directs me to a webpage in Japanese. I went to Tower Records to ask where to get tickets, and they directed me to the second floor of a mall that exclusively sells women’s apparel.

Small things, all of them. But it’s these little things that sometimes make me long for the ease of picking up the phone and knowing I can understand the person on the other end. Or being able to ask if I’m confused or need information. Or simply being able to understand the situation and make an informed decision, instead of saying OK! and hoping for the best.