The first time someone asked me if I wanted to get high, I thought I was being asked if I wanted to be taller.
Being the polite Japanese girl that I was, I said, “Yes, I do,†and hopped into his golf cart.
My justifications for getting into a golf cart with a total stranger were:
A) He was riding in a cart – which meant he was on staff at this park.
B) I was standing under a rather big tree so he must have thought I wanted to climb the tree therefore we were going to get a ladder.
I went to the LA Coliseum to get tickets for a concert. When I called the box office beforehand, I was told it was SOLD OUT. So, I just dropped by the stadium because I thought “sold out†meant it was sold OUT there somewhere.
I got to the box office eight hours before the show and was waiting under a tree when the aforementioned cart stopped by.
We never got a ladder.
The cart driver took me to the other side of the Coliseum where we stopped at a huge gate that looked like a place bulls enter an arena to meet a matador. He waved at a security guy, the gate opened, and we drove into the stadium.
I must say I was oblivious. I just kept thinking, “Wow, you would need a big ladder to climb the fence around this place!â€
He parked the cart, and took me into a trailer. There were no ladders inside, just a couple of girls sitting around like wet bath towels on pool chairs. A little mountain of a white powder was in front of them. I wasn’t sure but I had a feeling it was not their make up and although they spoke to me, I couldn’t understand a word.
The cart guy took off his hat, revealing his grisly bear look, sat down and took out his wallet. I was curious to know how much he was going to pay for the white powder mountain but to my surprise, he took out a credit card and started to chop it like it was garlic. Then, looking satisfied, he took out some cash. He didn’t give it to anyone, but rolled it like origami, and made a straw. He passed the tray and the bill straw to the girls, who ungraciously accepted it and snorted it up their noses with one inglorious wheeze.
Then my turn came.
The mirror was in front of me, facing the ceiling.
“Would they kill me if I sneeze now?â€Â I thought. The more I thought about it, the more I was afraid I really would sneeze. So I passed it to the cart guy.
There was no temptation. I saw the movie “LESS THAN ZEROâ€. I didn’t want to put anything in my nose because I remembered the time milk came out of my nose. That didn’t hurt my sinuses as much as the chaffing my ego took from the entire class laughing at me.
Later, when we left the trailer, we made our way to the backstage area. I saw the guys from Metallica walking by. I wanted the cart guy to take me back to the box office but he said, “You can stay. Here’s a pass.â€
I became one of them – the backstage people. I sat in the corner, closer to the audience and far edge of the stage. I couldn’t figure out what most people were doing – they were kind of just hanging out, like I was, so I hoped they were not on the payroll. There were also groupies in rainbow colored clothes and business people making themselves look important. It was all so new to me. I was the luckiest Japanese tourist ever.
When I returned to Japan, I studied the real American language – SLANG.
I learned how to say things like, “No, I don’t need to do a line now.â€Â Or, “It looks like bad shit to me.â€Â I learned how to break the ice with something like,“ Did you know Paul McCartney was canned in Japan for nine days for a stupid weed?â€
I studied slang more than business jargon, so when I heard “joint venture,†I thought Americans were way ahead of us.
Between Japan and America there are more differences than just the language itself. The languages accentuate cultural differences too. For example, “ish†as in, “Come around four-ish.â€Â For Japanese, if your appointment is at four, it means you are supposed to show up fifteen minutes before four. If your party starts at six, you can bet you’re your Japanese friend will show up at 5:45 PM, dressed impeccably, and then help you set up until the other guests start arriving “seven-ishâ€.
This “ish-ism†meaning “not quite, but close enoughâ€, really confused me.
Take the word JEWISH. I thought I meant people who actually were Jews but didn’t tell anybody or act like it because they didn’t really want you to know. Like Mel Brooks vs. Tom Cruise. I thought the guys in the black suits with Hasidic curls were Jews, while non-orthodox Jews who go out and party on Saturday nights were Jew-ish.
I was able to read Shakespeare before I could say nursery rhymes. Education in Japan is heavily literature oriented so we never study real conversations or pronunciation.
But when I fell in love with an American boy, Larry, I became more oral. We didn’t need to communicate verbally, we spoke the language of love. But I knew speaking the same language would help further our relationship.
Looking back, now I wonder what we talked about. I mean, how did I talk about anything or understand what he was saying? How can you fall for someone who doesn’t understand you? I must have been like one of those (seemingly) stupid foreign girls, you know, the ones that give a bad name to independent smart women? They are delicate (because they don’t talk much), nice (because that’s the only way they can be affectionate) and understand guys (because they don’t understand what the hell the guy is talking about). And they giggle a lot, instead of saying, “HEY! I DON’T GET IT!â€
I knew my cute foreign girl status wouldn’t last long, simply because the Japanese accent isn’t as sexy as a French accent. It doesn’t work miracles like it does for the Russian or Italian girls.
At school, I used to be a slacker but I studied English hard now that I had an incentive. Now I was in love – leaning English meant being able to explore his mind. This endeavor paid off eventually. I became the same old me whether speaking in English or Japanese. Loud, rude, and direct.
My Mother hoped that my cursing would be reduced dramatically but she didn’t know that English has more variety and different levels for cursing. She didn’t know in America that something like the F-word can be used very casually, for example replacing the word “very†in a sentence.
I learned to speak English pretty well within 3 months, but then I got lazy. Long words were sure to be wrong words.  I remembered long words by putting together shorter words. Antibacterial – easy. Anti and Bacteria. However, I got confused with some less frequently used words.
When I had to set a condition with someone and demand that they make a choice I would say something such as, “Either you shave off that ugly beard or we’re through! I’m giving you an ‘ultra-tomato’!â€Â When traditional medicine doesn’t work for you, I suggest you try alternative medicine – homo-pathetic medicine.
Because of poor study habits and a not-so-great memory, I have the hardest time memorizing words. Idioms or clichés – if they involve more than five phrases or if there are two that are different but mean the same thing, I get all mixed up.
When nothing gets done, and it’s because there are too many ideas and not enough action, I’ll hear someone say, “There are too many Chiefs and not enough Indians†or “Too many cooks spoil the broth.â€Â Then several weeks later a similar situation will arise and I’ll say, “We have too many cooks and not enough…waiters!â€Â When you don’t want someone to tell a secret, you’ll say, “Don’t let the cat out of the bag.†Or “Don’t spill the beans. Later on, I’ll want you to keep a secret and out comes, “Don’t spill the cat.â€
As with all Asians there is the classic mixing up of Ls and Rs. We really don’t hear the difference.   When I’m tired I have to pay really close attention. For instance, are you, “going the long way†or “going the wrong wayâ€. And names like Larry or Frank Lloyd Wright – forget about it. Sometimes a soft “t†or “d†sounds like the Japanese “r.â€Â You all know about Hello Kitty – well, saying that can sound like Japanese suicide – hara-kiri.
Many people think Japanese is hard language to learn. Not true. To start with, we do not have too many cultural or ethnic related sayings or phrases like “Indian giving†or “Chinese fire drillâ€. “Dutch oven†still doesn’t make sense to me because they aren’t made in Holland. Just like French fries aren’t imported from France. What did Dutch people do to deserve this, I wondered? Here it means your partner pulls cover over your head after he farted. it should be called “Gas chamberingâ€. Furthermore, in Japan, a Dutch Wife is a rubber sex doll.
After ten years of living in the States, I am still not used to using articles, adverbs or phrases properly. But I embarrass myself less now. I no longer look up every time someone asks me, “What’s up?â€Â And I can say, “Hang in there.†without feeling like I’m telling them to commit suicide.
I tried accent reduction, too. And I still feel stewpid when I do “‘merik’n aaaksnt.†The greatest discovery I made was that most Americans are pretty forgiving with accents, whether you are from the Deep South, the Bronx or a foreign country.
Although I still speak the language of love, I can speak the language of honesty and caring. My speech may not be perfect, but it is Engl-ish.
