Wednesday, 21 August 2013

Japan through the eyes of a six-year-old

This is not just any six-year-old, but my little (half) brother, Daniel. He often comes out with gems - some surprisingly knowledgeable and some just plain cute.

Daniel a couple of years ago, super happy making rice krispie cakes.





















When I told Daniel that I'd be moving to Japan in September he wasn't too disheartened, figuring that since he'd be going to China anyway he could easily visit me in Japan, too. The next time he phoned he told me that he was excited to come to Japan. In a thick Barnsley accent (don't ask) he said:

'D'you know in Japan they have really, REALLY fast trains? They're so fast! They're called bullet trains. You can get one in Tokyo, where you'll be, so can we go on them when I come? I'm really excited about the trains! The trains and the kangaroos.'

So Japan according to a six-year-old? A country relatively near to China, characterised by Shinkansen and kangaroos.





Thursday, 15 August 2013

En smak av Japan i Norge

Until I get to Japan (5 weeks and counting) I'm honing my chopstick skills whenever and wherever I can. It's sort of a race against time if I am to to eat in Tokyo.

This week I sampled sushi in Oslo, which proved both delicious and a bargain - by Norwegian standards at least. In Hasle a large box of sushi cost 109 krone; to put this in perspective half a pint of cider cost 80. Note to self: ditch the cider and spend on the sushi - good for the budget and great for chopstick hand-eye coordination.



Fersk fisk, Hvasser.


Wednesday, 7 August 2013

Who's afraid of Mr Bean?

The answer? Hikari and Hiyori, a pair of identical Japanese twins. 

In a lesson on British culture I asked the students which celebrities they could name, and to write which they liked and disliked. Walking around the class I saw the question 'which British celebrities do you not like, and why?' answered unanimously with 'none', or 'I like all celebrities', until I came to Hikari. Surprised, I tried not to laugh as I read her answer: 'Mr Bean, because his face is fearful'. Sitting a few seats down was Hiyori. Her answer? 'Mr Bean. His face is terrible to me'.

The idea that someone so beloved to children in Britain (and across the world) could inspire such fear in these twins (who wrote their answers independently, as far as I'm aware) at first made me giggle, and then made me think. It reminded me of an article a friend once sent me about children's stories in France:http://www.theguardian.com/books/gallery/2012/may/30/terrifying-french-childrens-books-in-pictures  

Mr Bean seems so harmless next to terrifying (not to mention inappropriately sexual) titles like 'La Visite de Petite Mort'. But perhaps 'the man with the rubber face' is just as unnerving; 'l'homme au visage de caoutchouc' does have a certain ominousness to it.





Sunday, 28 July 2013

'Yes, yes, yes', ''Yes?" 'No', or: how I discovered aizuchi

The title of this piece is a bit misleading; really I discovered aizuchi as a child, though if someone had said the word to me I probably would have said 'Bless you'.

It sounds exotic, but 'aizuchi' is the Japanese name for something very common, namely the polite interjections in conversations which demonstrate attention and understanding: the 'yeah's and 'uh huh's that we use to show another person that we're on the same wavelength as them. 



Most cultures use aizuchi to some extent and it is an important part of human relationships and conversations. The correct use of aizuchi can be pivotal in determining a conversation's 'success'. Too many interjections could be perceived as rude by some cultures, whereas too few could offend the speaker, by suggesting that the listener has switched off. However, aizuchi is a particularly important linguistic and cultural phenomenon in Japan. The word is part of a proverb 'aizuchi o utsu' (あいづちをうつ) which literally means 'striking the forge hammer'. The phrase describes the rhythmic to-and-fro of two smiths striking a hammer; as linguist Laura Miller describes it 'the alternating strikes of a mallet by a blacksmith and his apprentice'. The blacksmith makes a strike and his apprentice responds, in the same way that in a conversation one person often leads, while the other reassures the speaker that his words are understood. 

Crucially in Japanese culture, aizuchi is not the same as agreement. The listener says 'yes' to indicate comprehension, not necessarily agreement. However, it is easy for non-native Japanese speakers to confuse aizuchi with agreement, as I discovered at first hand during my weeks teaching Japanese school children and collaborating with their Japanese teachers.

When not teaching, the other English teachers and I were expected to organize activities for the children, for instance sightseeing in London and Oxford. Once the students had seen Big Ben, Westminster, Buckingham Palace etc, we thought it would be nice for them to spend a day in London Zoo, to coincide with a lesson on animals. The zoo seemed to us good 'school trip' potential, and a safe place in which to let 70 Japanese children wander around and have fun. We mooted our plan to one of the Japanese teachers who spoke English, and were pleased when after every suggestion we made he said 'yes, yes, yes'. 'That's settled then', we thought, and promptly booked 70 tickets to the zoo.

Feeling happy with ourselves, we mentioned to the teacher a few days later that we were excited for the zoo, at which point he said, 'um, I've been thinking, maybe zoo, but maybe not zoo. Maybe National Portrait Gallery?' Knowing a little about Japanese culture (enough to know that the word 'no' is rarely used, but is instead implied) I quickly realised that his 'maybe not zoo' equated to a polite but resounding 'no'. The other English teachers and I could not understand his apparent volt-face, that is until I stumbled upon this article (http://www.tofugu.com/2013/06/25/aizuchi/) and reassessed our conversations mindful of aizuchi. The teacher had never wanted to go to the zoo in the first place, but from our Western perspective we assumed that his aizuchi were marks of approval, and agreement.


The situation resolved itself happily in a compromise: our zoo tickets were not wasted and we were able to see other sights on the same day, and importantly, we English teachers left with a better understanding of Japanese conversational customs.