Firefly in Japan on the Your-Japan Blog Network

Well to paint the picture again, I was sitting in my small, stuffy room in Tokyo. It was 9am. My brain was jarred after I had just been fired from my part-time job after my 2nd lesson. The crickets chirped continuously, intensifying the dull thud in my head. I stood up, bare foot on my futon. I walked over to the small dirty sink in my room and splashed some water on my face.

After about 15 minutes of sitting down on the hard wood floor, finally, I said out loud, “Fuck this. FUCK THIS.” I wasn’t going to save up money for 3 months, study Martial Arts continuously to a level where I would benefit from the training in Japan, put my entire life on hold in Australia, leave all of my friends and family to finally make it to Japan, and LEAVE. Because I couldn’t find a JOB. A sneering laugh escaped my pursed lips, as my motivation began building up. After experiencing the incredible training in Japan, after making some great friends, after meeting loads of wonderful Japanese people, after experiencing life in a different country, after learning some of the Japanese language and being fascinated by it, what kind of LOSER gives up now? After coming this far? To go back after just a MONTH!?!? “FUCK THIS!” I said louder, empowered. My whole body felt electrified. I threw some clothes on, and ran out the door. I raced off through the crowded Tokyo streets. I knew exactly what I had to do.

40 minutes later, I arrived in Shibuya. I walked out of the ticket gates, and began on a straight line to my final destination. People jumped out of my way as I stormed through the crowds. Anyone who got close enough would have seen the electricity in my eyes. I finally arrived to the building. I walked into the lift, and pressed 7. Some shitty music played on the tinny speakers. The worn elevator doors slid open to reveal a counter. I walked over.

“*#@*!*!@$(#($($#.” Said the guy behind the counter.

“INTERNET.” I said.

“@#!@($**(%..?” He asked.

“Uh… time? 2 hours.” I made a guess at his question.

He handed me a small card, and I walked over to a computer. I had arrived at an Internet cafe, and I had the determination of a thousandBuddhist monks under a thousand waterfalls. I sat down on the cheap plastic seat. I slid my sleeves down to my elbows like the maestro of an orchestra. And I began.

Open Hotmail, enter password. Download Firefly_Resume.doc. Open. Edit. Change. Improve. Download sample professional resumes. Compare. Improve. Update. Research available Japan jobs. Research companies in Japan. Find company. Research company, change resume to cater to company. Research professional cover letter. Write Cover Letter to suit company and position, attach to Resume. Prepare first Cover Letter and Resume. Scan for errors. Fix typos. Scan again - perfect. Click send.

I spent hours sending my resume to about 115 companies in and around Tokyo. I would settle for any job. Many companies I contacted had no positions available, but I emailed anyway. Anything to stay in Japan. I had to borrow money for food from friends living at my guest house, and I was driven to pay them back. My face flushed brilliant red with shame when I had to ask friends for some money so I could buy food. I renewed my vow to never to be in that situation again.

I sent my resume to many different industries. Investment Banks (any intern positions? I’m dedicated, available and capable), to English schools (I speak excellent English, and I have experience in teaching business English to… large groups and small groups.), to IT companies (I worked in IT in Australia. I am currently studying Japanese, but I am certain my skills, experience and dedication would make me a valuable asset to your company. Please consider me for an interview.), even to Restaurants (I am very capable and practised with food, having consumed food almost every day of my life. I have no experience, but I am dedicated and available to start immediately).

After 7 hours I woke up from my trance covered in sweat with an intense headache, and a rumbling, empty stomach. I splayed back in my chair, completely exhausted. I put together a list of the companies I emailed, and compiled a list of phone numbers to call. My stomach momentarily over-rode my brain, and I purchased some cup noodles for 120 yen, which were conveniently available within the internet cafe.

As I stared up at the smoke stained ceiling of the internet cafe, I had an odd feeling. I felt like I had placed my entire life savings on red at the roulette table, and I could feel the ball spinning around, and around inside my head. The ball was slowly but surely slowing down. I exhaled deeply. I leaned forward, and clicked refresh on Hotmail.

1 new message.

My stomach tightened as I clicked it.

“Thank you very much for your interest in our company. Unfortunately at this period in time, we are not searching for someone of your skills and qualifications. We will certainly keep your resume on file, and as soon as such a position becomes available, we will contact you.”

A polite rejection letter. I found this companies name on my list of phone numbers and circled it. I would call them first.

I refreshed again.

1 new message.

“hello thank you for the applying. we are making the class of enlgish so we wish to have interview for you. palease repling with your avlaible time to orgnize the interview. - Okada”

Well, sounds like this guy could do with an English teacher. I was happy to provide my services.

“Hello, thank you very much for your interest. I am available immediately for an interview. I will be in Tsukiji shortly, but I am available to travel anywhere in Tokyo.”

He replied and we made an appointment for Tsukiji at 8pm. I was cautiously optimistic. I borrowed a suit, and wore it to the meeting place. I was the only foreigner waiting, so Mr Okada had an easy time to find me. As it turns out, he could barely speak English. This made things difficult, since my ceiling of Japanese was “Hello” and “Goodbye”. Useful Japanese to know, but it makes for a short interview.

He took me to a coffee shop, and we sat down. After sitting down, I dimly realised I had no idea who this guy was, or where he was from. I applied to 115 companies, he could be from any one of them! My eyebrows furrowed slightly as I realised I was at a major disadvantage.

“I have friend. Good friend,” Mr Okada started.

“Oh,” I said, unsure how best to react.

“He is work atto Intel. Big company. He top position there. Beri important.”

“Thats… yeah, great. I like Intel.” I said, uncomfortably. What the hell is going on.

“I also have friend Toyota.” He haltingly continued.

I blankly stared at him.

“In Japan,” he continued illustrating his points with his index finger. “Toyota izu………..” Okada-san paused for a long time.

I leaned forward in my seat to somehow try to encourage the next statement.

“Number 1,” Okada-san finally continued. I sat back in my seat.

“Butto… there is Nissan. Nissan izu…..” Okada-san paused. I involuntarily frowned.

“Number two.” he finished.

I sat there, my feeling of optimism draining away. This was turning out to be a waste of time, and I’m losing another day. Shit.

“Honda is maybe…….. number 3,” Okada-san kept talking, and I was doing my best to follow and nod appropriately.

A thought struck me. Was this an English lesson?!? Ahhh man.

I sat as patientily as I could, doing my best to not squirm while I felt the spinning roulette ball in my skull continue to slow down. Finally, after 30 minutes, some kind of interview seemed to start.

“Do you have English?” He asked me with a serious expression.

“Yes,” I replied confidently. “I have English.”

“Do you have teaching?” He asked.

“Yes,” I replied, as I stifled down the memory of the stern short fat woman screaming in my ear. “But only 2 classes.”

“Only 2?” He rolled the statement around in his mouth as though he ate something distasteful.

“Yes. But I’m very,” My mind raced. Dedicated? Committed? Motivated? SHIT, I need something with less syllables. Devoted?

“….. good.” I offered.

He looked at me. I looked at him. There was a sudden, odd silence.

“We think on you.” He said.

Rejected.

My world didn’t crash down, because it pretty much already had, but I somehow felt just a bit more depressed. “Thanks.” I said, as I reluctantly put down 500 yen on the table, my half of the bill. 4 cup noodles for a cup of crap coffee. I internally cursed.

I walked back to my guest house, feeling sick to the stomach. The dull thud in my head returned. Dejected, I walked inside.

I saw an American guy sitting inside the common room typing on a laptop.

“Wassup!” He said. “How was your day?”

“Yeah, wonderful. Magical day. Uh, hey, is it ok if I use your laptop for a second? I applied for some jobs and I want to see if anything came back.”

“Sure dude, no problem, man.” He handed the PC to me, and I logged into Hotmail.

4 new messages.

“Thank you very much for your interest in our company. Unfortunately at this period in time, we are not searching……..”
“Thank you very much for your interest in our company. Unfortunately at this period in time, we are not searching……..”
“Thank you very much for your interest in our company. Unfortunately at this period in time, we are not searching……..”
“Hello, we are a Tokyo IT company. We saw your resume, and we may have a position for someone of your skill and experience. Can you come into our office tomorrow at 5pm for an interview?”

I stared at the message. It suddenly registered. My eyes popped open. A smile bubbled to my face, as I excitedly hit reply.

“Dear sir, I am available tomorrow at 5pm. I found the map to your company on the website. I will see you tomorrow at 5pm. Warm Regards, Firefly.”

My heart skipped a beat as I clicked send. I leapt out of my seat, and high-fived the surprised American. I ran down the hall laughing like a mad-man. Japan was really giving me an emotional rollercoaster ride. Sure, I complained a bit at times, but the truth was, I loved every minute of it. I grabbed a notebook, and went back to the PC to study everything about the company that was interested in me.

However, absolutely nothing would prepare me for the completely crazy interview I would be put through at this company. It was like something out of a movie.

I’ll try to write about it soon.

I came to Japan 5 years ago with about $2,000 US dollars, very little experience, no Japanese ability, few marketable skills and no friends or contacts. My original goal in coming to Japan was to study martial arts for a month, but after one week living in Tokyo I made the decision to try to live here. After making this decision, reality set in. I would need to find a place to live and a job. Which should I look for first?

After one week of living in a hotel in Tokyo, my account was already down to $1,400. I didn’t want to find an apartment, and then get a job very far from my apartment. I decided to focus on finding a place to live. I found a free magazine called Tokyo Classifieds, and noticed an ad from a new company called Sakura House. I called them up, and they told me about a vacancy in a guest house near Tsukiji . I went and looked at the apartment - it was a tiny room with a shared kitchen, toilet and shower. It was very close to the station, and quite central in Tokyo. I immediately accepted, and moved in. Unfortunately, it cost a deposit of $200 and the first months rent to move in - a total of $900. I was down to $500, and I was starting to sweat.

I picked up Tokyo Classifieds and starting faxing, emailing and calling every employer I could. Most of the jobs were for English teachers, but I applied for everything and anything. I went to several interviews, but none of them worked out. There were various reasons - “no university degree”, “too young”, “too old”, “no experience”, “no qualifications”, “the position was filled”, “no Japanese”. Continuous rejection was pretty harsh on my previously huge ego. But I steeled myself and kept trying. In a week and a half, I had contacted 25 employers, went to 10 interviews, and had nothing to show for it except an ever-shrinking bank account - now down to $147.

I was starting to get a bit worried - what would happen to me if I ran out of money? I cut back on my expenses as much as I possibly could, and begin eating 5 rice balls a day. They were cheap and pretty healthy - I owe my initial survival in Japan to salmon rice balls!

Then finally, the call came that changed everything.

“Hello, are you available to teach a class of English tomorrow at 7pm?”

She sounded middle-aged, and her voice was very sharp and to the point. I gulped. I was down to $80, and things were getting very bleak.

“Um…”, I paused, as though I was considering my busy schedule. “I believe I’m available at 7pm. Where should I go?”

My heart thumped in my chest as she gave me the directions. I wrote them down and thanked her, trying to hide my excitement and happiness. A part-time job! This could change everything. This could be the start of my new life in Japan! I brightened up, and did my best to prepare for my first English lesson in my life.

I arrived at the station at 6:30pm to make sure I was on-time. I was wearing a suit kindly borrowed from another similarly sized occupant of my guest house. The neck was too tight, and I was feeling uncomfortable. I was all too aware that this could be my last opportunity in Japan. If I blow this, I could be forced back to Australia with my tail between my legs. I stood in the station toilet, looking at myself in the mirror. I broke out in a light sweat. The clock ticked around to 6:55pm, and I went to the designated meeting place.

At precisely 7pm, she turned up, and with a minimum of conversation, we began walking to the English class. She was a short stubby woman with zero tolerance for bullshit, and almost no tact.

“It is a business English class. Be as business-like as possible. You must be professional, but also friendly. You are here only because the last person suddenly left. Don’t mess it up. Do you understand?” Her voice cut through the warm Tokyo air.

“Um, yes, I understand. I’ll do my best. Um, I haven’t actually taught a class of English before, though,” I said, trying to keep the tremble from my voice. She didn’t respond.

We finally arrived at the class. She opened the door, and there were 40 Japanese business people in the room. I walked in, and everyone looked at me.

“INTRODUCE YOURSELF.” She instructed me, quietly and harshly.

“Ah… hello everyone…! My name is Firefly, and I’m from Australia.”

A quiet murmur broke out after I mentioned Australia. “Has.. anyone ever been to Australia?” I tentatively asked.

“I went to Cairns!” a voice called out from the crowd. Interestingly, as I later discovered, almost every Japanese person has been to Cairns.

“Thats great!” I encouraged. Soon after, we were having a lively discussion about Cairns, Australia, Japan, me, what I like about Japan, Japanese language, Japanese food, kangaroos, koalas - then all of a sudden, the time was up. I blinked, as I realised that 2 hours had passed.

The woman led me in a daze outside.

She fixed me with her cool stare. “You didn’t totally mess it up. I will wire 8,000 yen to your bank account tomorrow. Come back next week. Same time, same place. For next lesson though, you MUST MAKE A LESSON PLAN. Do you understand?”

I cautiously nodded, but I decided it would be prudent to tell the truth : “Actually, I’ve never actually made a lesson plan before….”, I began.

“I don’t care,” she cut me off. “Just make one. OK?”

“Got it.” I confirmed.

I walked away a flurry of emotions. I did it! I had my first English lesson. It was actually really fun. I got paid 4,000 yen an hour! Hmm , I have to make a lesson plan - I don’t know how to do that. But 8,000 yen will be enough to survive for a bit longer until I find a more permanent job! I could barely contain my feeling of elation as I walked back to the train station.

Sure enough, the next day arrived and 8,000 yen appeared in my bank. I bought a bentou (lunch set) instead of riceballs to celebrate. Then I set about my next task - a lesson plan. I wrote down some ideas on paper. I went to Shinjuku Kinokuniya, a huge bookstore, and read lots of literature about teaching English and lesson plans. I wrote down some more ideas. Then I asked some other English teachers living in my guest house for advice. I wrote down their ideas. I asked my Japanese friends about what kind of lesson they really enjoy. I wrote down those ideas. I called my father, and asked him “Hey, if you had to teach a lesson of English, what would you teach?”, I then wrote down his ideas.

In total, I spent about 12 hours working on the best lesson plan the world had ever seen. The lesson plan was detailed down to every single minute. I was extremely proud of my creation, and many people expressed their admiration for my fantastic plan. Finally, next Wednesday came. I borrowed the suit again, folded up my lesson plan, and slid it into my ill-fitting shirt pocket. I left the guest house full of confidence and bravado. I got on the train, brimming with motivation. I arrived to the station, and went to the same building. I found my way back to the same room, I unfolded my lesson plan, walked in……………

And found 2 men sitting down in the middle of the room.

“Oh, sorry. I’m the English teacher, I must have the wrong room.” I said, as I closed the door.

“Please wait! This izu English class!” One of the men called out.

I swung the door open again. The confusion must have been readable on my face.

“Tonight everyone is having project. Everyone very busy. We are only people who can come tonight.” He explained in halting English.

My mouth dropped open. I felt light-heade
d and sick as the 12 hours I spent on my lesson plan flashed before my eyes. I robotically re-entered the room.

“Oh… so just, you two guys?” I asked, trying to hide my disappointment.

“Right.” They nodded their heads and smiled at me.

“Well….” I said, and I handled my 12 hour lesson plan. “Since um, there are only two of you… is there anything that you want to learn or study?” I asked.

The silence was deafening for a very long 10 seconds, until the man on the right said :

“I want to talku… abouto my weekendo.” He announced.

“Ok, great!” I said, as I listened to him talk. Then the other guy talked about his weekend. Then I started talking about my weekend.

Once again, before we knew it, we were having an interesting conversation about Japan-Australia relations, bushfires, politics, Japanese culture, Australian hospitality, and suddenly my watch started beeping. 2 hours was up again! Unbelievable.

I looked at my watch, and looked up at them with a smile on my face. It was a fascinating conversation, and they both had interesting opinions and ideas. We all had so much fun talking about every subject. I couldn’t believe I was getting paid 4,000 yen an hour for this!

They looked at me and said “Thank you very much for our lesson today Firefly-san. It was very enjoyable! We had so much fun.”

I grinned at them. “I had lots of fun as well! Thanks guys, it was great. See you next week!”.

I walked out of the classroom with a spring in my step. I turned back, and they were bowing and smiling at me as I left. I waved back. Teaching English is awesome! Tomorrow morning, there will be 8,000 yen waiting for me in my account as well. Now I can relax a bit and focus on trying to find a job. I already did all the work on the worlds best lesson plan, I’ll just use that next week.

I went to bed with a smile on my face, and I relaxed and slept soundly for the first time in 2 weeks.

I woke up at 9am to find a missed call on my mobile. I checked the number - it was the stern woman who organised my lesson. She must be calling to congratulate me on such a good lesson. I excitedly called her back.

“Hi! This is Firefly. Thanks very much for organising last nights lesso-”, I began.

“You didn’t make a LESSON PLAN.” Her words cleared my morning haze, and cut me to the bone.

“Lesson Plan? Oh right, actually I did, but-” I stammered.

“They were very upset with you. They complain to me. It was a VERY BAD LESSON.” She was gaining momentum, and starting to yell at me.

“I’m.. very sorry. There were only 2 people, I thought I should-”

“I will pay you for last night’s lesson. But thats it. Don’t bother to come back again.”

“But, it’s a misunderstanding, hang on a second,” I tried to explain, but she immediately hung up, leaving me alone with excuses and an engaged signal.

Similar to being kicked in the nuts, the impact of the words set in about 10 seconds later. I was emotionally and financially devastated. I gulped as I realised I had $60 in my account - and no job to speak of - not even part-time.

I would later find out this is a common theme in Japanese culture. Most Japanese people choose to avoid confrontation, and prefer to complain about you when you’re not around. This is distasteful to me as a Westerner, but as a resident of Japan it’s something I have to respect and understand. Now I have a much higher tolerance and understanding of this kind of behaviour, but it was a big culture-shock for me when I first came over.

What happened after this is completely unbelievable, and led to a series of events that changed the course of my life. I’ll try to write about it soon.

A group of Australians had flown into Japan to train in Martial Arts. I was spending a lot of time with them, and I was thankful for some Australian accents and some crude humour. One day we happened to be training at the honbu dojo (head dojo), and our teacher, Togara-sensei (famous from worlds worst language mistake) was teaching a class soon after this class. Ordinarily, we would have to make our own way to the next class. Today however, he happened to have a very large van, enough space for a few loud and rude Aussies, and an amount of patience far beyond that of most Japanese, so he invited us on board.

Japanese have a stereotype of being very sensitive, quiet, respectful and polite. I¡ll tell you the reason for this stereotype – it¡Çs completely true. Almost all Japanese are the living embodiment of these characteristics. Togara-sensei however, shits all over this stereotype. He is friendly and warm, but at the same time extremely aggressive and forceful – beyond most foreigners I know. It is also said that when you drive a car, your real personality comes out. Put Togara-sensei behind the wheel of a car, and just watch the fuck out.

The raucous, loud, joking Australians were almost immediately silence as he accelerated to 100 kilometers an hour in a 40km zone, before slamming on the brakes and turning the first corner, which sent Australians flying in every direction. The laughter and jokes were immediately replaced with the sound of desperate struggling as everyone tried to secure a seatbelt for themselves. Since I had been in the car before, I was hip to this jive, and was in the front wearing a seatbelt, and purposely sitting right in front of the airbag.

If you can imagine this middle aged, massive martial arts master, wearing reading glasses, driving a large van, filled with crazy Australians, like a rally car – then you can begin to appreciate how funny this picture was. Almost as though he was trying to make the scene even more amusing, he flicked on the CD player, and loud classical music began blasting through the speakers.

By this time, we were on the highway, and he was changing lanes whenever he felt like it. Scaring the shit out of tens of Japanese people driving their mini-cars. A car in front began slowing down, so he drove the car half onto the traffic island in the middle of the road, accelerated to overtake 3 or 4 cars, and then swerved back into the middle lane. We all had our stomachs in our mouths as he was driving like a maniac. Interesting, his expression never changed. He could have been sitting at home watching TV and drinking a beer.

After more highway hijinks, he decided he was hungry, and we pulled into a Ramen shop (Chinese noodles). All of the staff waved to him as he entered the shop, and he nodded to the main chef. The chef yelled out ¡Ècoming right up, sir!¡É and about 2 minutes later, there was a hot bowl of Chinese noodles exactly the way Togara-sensei liked them steaming in front of him. Togara-sensei broke a pair of chopsticks in half, and basically inhaled his entire bowl in about 45 seconds flat. He pushed it away from him, and looked over with irritation the other table of Australians, who were trying to decipher the menu. 3 minutes after entering the shop, Togara-sensei was done, and he had to wait for the table of Australians. His brow furrowed, and mouth curled into a snarl. Togara-sensei does not like waiting for people.

I received my meal, and began eating. Even when I¡Çm rushing, it takes me well over 5 minutes to eat the same size bowl as Togara-sensei. I was sitting directly in front of Togara-sensei. I looked at him, he was still snarling with his arms crossed over his chest. I decided to not make conversation. He looked at me. I looked back at him. He suddenly seemed to pause, as though considering something. Then, his snarl unraveled, and turned into a barely contained grin. ¡ÈOh, fuck,¡É I thought. I¡Çve seen this look before, and nothing good has ever come of it. Imagine how a cat with a twisted sense of humor looks at a bird with no wings, or legs, that¡Çs tied to a tree.

Togara : Hey. Firefly.

Firefly : Um yeah hello.

Togara : How are you. Heh. Heheh.

Firefly : Uh¡Ä yeah pretty good, thanks. How are you?

Togara : You like eggs?

Firefly : ¡Äyeah

Togara : Egg¡Ä IT IS GOOD FOR YOU.

Firefly : Ok¡Ä.

By this time, the Australians sense something is going down. Distracted from their Chinese noodle ordering process, they look over at my table, and see Togara burning a hole in my head with his laser vision. I sat there looking uncomfortable.

Togara : You know BEST part of EGG?

Firefly : Uhhh, maybe th-

Togara : THE SHELL.

A couple of Australians started giggling at this point.

Firefly : Oh, right,

Togara : Shell has lots of CALCIUM. Good for your bones. You need good healthy BONES.

Firefly (thinking on my feet) : Right, that¡Çs why I drink lots of milk.

Togara : Milk is SHIT compared to egg shell. HAHA. Yes, Egg Shell.

Firefly : You know¡Ä you could always eat it. If like, it¡Çs so great.

Togara : I ate it this morning.

Firefly : That¡Çs great. So, I¡Çm just about done now, so-

Togara : EAT THE EGG.

He gestured to a small plate with lots of hard-boiled eggs in it. The Australians were all glued to our conversation now. Togara was getting his entertainment. And I was getting very nervous.

Firefly : Haha¡Ä yesss. Haha. Hmmmm.

Togara : *Death stare*

Bunch of Asshole Australians : EAT THE EGG YA PANSY

Firefly : I¡Çm not eating the egg.

Togara (quietly) : Perhaps you did not understand. The egg shell – GOOD for you. Eat. The. WHOLE. Egg. NOW.

Togara-sensei looked at me in a way that made me feel I was one non-compliant egg request away from having a fist put through my head. Involuntarily, I picked up the egg, and examined it at arms length.

Firefly : You¡Çve got to be kidding me.

Togara : GOOD FOR YOU. EAT IT NOW.

Without thinking, I squeezed my eyes shut, and placed the entire egg in my mouth. It fit curiously snugly into my mouth cavity. I suddenly realized what I was doing, and began panicking.

A lone Australian decided to be supportive. ¡ÈHey man,¡É he yelled out. ¡ÈThat thing in your mouth, has been in a chickens ass!¡É. I began dry retching. I opened my jaw, and slowly closed my mouth, chewing down on the shell. The Australians cheered. Togara¡Çs deep laugh sounded out.

To try to explain it - you know when you¡Çre eating an omelet, and you accidentally chew on a miniscule bit of shell? Simultaneously, an overwhelming feeling of disgust and jolt of electricity goes through you as you try to spit it out? Imagine that sensation, multiplied by 50,000. It was the most disgusting thing I¡Çve ever eaten. And I¡Çve lived in Japan for 5 years.

It took me a minute and a half of solid chewing. I almost threw up 3 times during the process (4 if you count the initial dry retch). I ate that egg whole. Togara-sensei sat back and watched, thoroughly enjoying the whole process. I sat there looking green, on the verge of throwing up.

Togara : HAHA ! VERY GOOD. Good strong bones. HAHA. Dumbass.

After we left the restaurant, an Aussie friend came up to me.

“Hey brother,” he said with a hand on my shoulder. “I hope you chewed that egg very, very well. Because the human stoma
ch cant digest egg shells very well, and it¡Çs going to cut it¡Çs way out of your ass like a pack of 10 razor blades”. I looked at him in disbelief. ¡ÈAre you serious?¡É I said, ¡ÈI thought it¡Çs supposed to be a good source of calcium!!¡É. He looked at me in pity for my gullibility, and shook his head sadly.

We drove off ignoring most of the road rules, and I sat in the front seat again next to the airbag. I would wait one and a half uneasy days for my uncertain fate. As it turns out, human stomachs aren¡Çt very good at digesting egg shells. Never trust a bored martial arts master.

Recently, I made a post called “The worst language mistake in history”. This was a really great post for a few reasons. One, it was very highly ranked on www.reddit.com, two, it brought YourJapanlots of new visitors and a couple of new contributors, and three, awhole bunch of people wrote in, or left comments sharing theirembarrassing language mistake stories. Here is a collection of thefunniest stories for you. I hope you enjoy them. If you have any more,please post them in comments.

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Back in the seventies,Mike Walsh on his TV show broadcast around Australia said to a youngFrenchwoman the only French he knew which was from a song popular atthe time, “Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?” The woman lookedquite startled as he had just asked her if she wanted to sleep with himthat night.

Posted by Mike Lewis 09 Jan 2007, 15:37

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Thereis another funny Japanese mistake that is easy to make. In Japan it iscommon for rain to begin in the evening, a phenomenon known as”yuu-dachi” (yuu = evening, dachi = stand up or start).

Fromthis one might well think you could replace the Japanese word forevening “yuu” with the word for morning “asa” to describe a scenariowhere rain begins in the morning.

So one time I was on my way tomy junior high school job in Saitama Prefecture and it suddenly startedraining heavily. I had to go back and get my rain gear or I’d be soakedby the time I got there, but this unfortunately made me a few minuteslate.

Now in Japan it is customary when entering the office,or in this case the teacher’s room, to say, “Osoku natte sumimasen”(”Sorry for being late”) upon entering, loud enough for everyone tohear, and then briefly explain the reason.

So I rush into theteacher’s room, while stripping off my rain gear. All eye are on me asI bellow, “Osoku natte sumimasen!” and see everyone really appreciatethat I knew the correct Japanese for that situation. Their encouraginglooks embolden me, so I go ahead and explain the reason: “Ookiiasa-dachi ga arimashita node…” but I can’t finish the sentencebecause first some students who were about, and then all the staff,suddenly burst into uproarious laughter. I can’t figure out why they’relaughing, so I laugh with them and go sit down at my desk.

Lateras I’m on my way to class some students see me in the hall and say,”Sensei! Biiiiig penis!! …Do you asa-dachi???” And I start to get thefrist inkling I said something really embarrassing. I soon found outwhat “Ookii asa-dachi ga arimashita node” means. It means, “I’m latebecause I had giant morning wood”!

The students, especially,never let me live that down, and I had to fend off kids trying to grabmy cock for the rest of the year.

Posted by Amanojack(Get Girls) 09 Jan 2007, 16:14

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Ata party in my small apartment, my friends over for dinner commented onhow quiet the place was. The lady in the apartment above hadunfortunatly suffered a brain hemmorrhage some time back and theapartment was empty. Not knowing the medical terminology in Japanese, Itried to explain her condition by explaining that the blood vessel inher head had expanded putting pressure on her brain. Their eyes widenedconsiderably with looks of incredulity as I explained. Blood = ketsu;Pipe = kan; Blood vessel = Blood Pipe = Kekkan; the word I usedtranslates as roughly “Ass Pipe” (ketsukan); They were visibly relievedto finally understand the situation…

Posted by Captain Bogus 09 Jan 2007, 19:37

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Firsttime I set a foot in Germany, I was invited to a restaurant with manypeople. I was sitting next to a young german girl who spoke excellentenglish. At some point she asked kindly: “do you speak german?”. Iwanted to say: “Not well, but I will try with you”. Only thing is: Idid not know the word for “try”. Being bold and all, I used an oldtrick to create vocabulary when you don’t have it: germanize theenglish word. So “try” became “treiben”, and I promptly told her:”Nein, aber mit Dir werde ich treiben”.

There was a pause in allconversations at that point, and any german-speaker around erupted withlaughter immediately afterwards. I blushed beyond anything you canpossibly imagine but nobody would translate what I just said.

Ittook me years to find out, because every time I told the story tosomeone they would start laughing uncontrollably and refuse totranslate. Until I found a dear soul who told me “treiben” is the mostvulgar way of saying you want to have sex. Which basically translatesmy efforts to: “Not well, but I will do you”. Not the nicest thing tosay (in public) to a girl you first met 15 minutes ago.

Posted by Nicolas 09 Jan 2007, 19:45

Afriend of mine has lived in Japan for several years. First time hismother comes around, he introduces her to his Japanese friends: “dearfriends, this is my mother Diana”, and sees them trying to get a gripon themselves to avoid laughing in her face. Apparently, “Dai-Ana”means “large orifice” in japanese. News about Lady Diana must have beenfun to read!

Story by Nicolas

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I went toquebec and asked for a “large poutine”,. However , im do not speakfrench very well so I was to this overly large women at the restaurant,”grand pootin”. She gave me a blank stare and did not take my order.According to my french teacher that is “Big lesbian”

Story by Hodgie

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Anaquaintance was asked what he wanted for lunch while in germany. Whathe tried to order was a small bucket of fried chicken [huhn], butactually ordered a bucket of fried puppies! [hunchen]

Story by Osmanthus

Roadrage is an almost non-existent phenomenon in Japan. Japanese drivers draw upon un-natural reserves of patience as they inch through traffic jams kilometers long. I am unable to do this - I’m either zooming down the middle on my scooter, or banging my head on the steering wheel in frustration. I very rarely see any kind of anger on the roads at all. Actually, I have a memory of accidentally cutting someone off on the road. I looked into therear view mirror expectantly, hoping for some signs of anger or frustration. He looked at me through the mirror indirectly with a look of surprise, and then it seemed he recognised me as a foreigner. He then broke out into a smile, pointed to my car and presumably informed the other people in the car that the car ahead has a “Gaijin on board”. I shook my head and drove off. This article however, is about another breed of driver.

One of the very few people that seem to do exactly what they feel like without concern for Japanese social obligation, are the Yakuza. If you put more than one Japanese in a room, it seems to create a social expectancy - each Japanese watches the other Japanese, to make sure that they don’t accidentally do something considered unbecoming for a Japanese. This effect seems to multiply the more people are around. There are only a few people who don’t give a shit about this omnipotent social pressure - crazy people, foreigners, andYakuza.

I’ve had some minor encounters with the Yakuza during the time I’ve been here. Once, I sat across one on a train. This guy was huge, easily twice my size - the kind of guy you normally only see in exaggerated Japanese fight comics. He was dressed in a sharp black suit that must have been tailor made, and he had scars on his face. He seemed as interested in me, as I was in him. We were happened to be on an express train that went for long periods of time with no stops. Both of us from a sense ofcuriousity caught each others eye. For a period of about 8 minutes, we were locked in eye contact. We coolly stared each other down. As I peered into his eyes, I tried to imagine his world. Was he a bodyguard? Some kind of fighter? Was his loyalty with one of the famousYakuza groups? Some kind of freelancer? I can only imagine he was looking at me, trying to likewise get a glimpse into my world. After some time, he broke eye contact, and got off at the next stop with a grace that defied his large frame. However the sense of accomplishment I got from winning thestaredown was defused by the realisation that he could twist my head off using his forefinger and thumb.

Most Yakuza seem to be regarded in a way akin to dangerous animals. Just stay out of their way, don’t mess with them, avoid provoking them, and you will be able to co-exist without too many issues. TheYakuza seem to support some sections of Japanese society, and add their own value (and probably dallops of blackmail) which allows them to function without a huge amount of external problems from the police. There seem to be lines drawn in the sand however that both sides respect, and as long as neither side crosses the line,Yakuza and the other side of society functions in an uneasy symbiosis. Every now and again, these lines are blurred, and I was lucky enough to witness such an event.

Myself and some co-workers were sitting at an outside table at a Tullies in a downtown Kamiyacho. We were enjoying the summer heat (read : we were drenched in sweat and wishing we were anywhere else), and having a relaxed conversation. All of a sudden, we heard some brakes screeching. I looked up, and saw that a black Mercedes (a classicYakuza car) was stopped by a truck, which had slammed on its brakes. The truck was reacting to something unexpected on the road, and did an emergency stop. The black Mercedes followed suit. A taxi following behind the black Mercedes wasn’t paying quite as much attention to the road as the truck and the Mercedes. The Taxi slammed on it’s brakes, narrowly avoiding the black Mercedes. There was a moment of stunned silence from everyone, which was broken by the loud horn of the taxi.

*WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA*. *WHAAAWHAAAAAAAAAA* *WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA*

The Taxi driver held the horn down in a frustrated response to the unexpected stop. Silence fell once more.

*WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA*

The Mercedes door flew open. A fat, extremely well dressed man kicked his way out of the car, fumbling furiously with his seat beat. He turned and slammed the door behind him and began storming towards the taxi. The taxi driver immediately shit himself, locked his doors, and wound up his window.

“WHAT THE FUCK, YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT. YOU THINK YOU’RE TOUGH WITH YOUR HORN? YEAH? YOU THINK YOU’RE HARD? COME OUT HERE AND FACE ME LIKE A MAN. DONT YOU FUCKING PUT YOUR WINDOW UP,” His words rumbled and screamed at the same time as he began hitting the glass with his fist.

The taxi driver put the car into reverse, before realising there was about half a meter of space from the car behind him, and a few inches from the car in front of him. He had no escape. He turned white as he double checked the locks on the door, and began scrambling for a phone to call the police.

“COME ON YOU BIG TOUGH MAN, GET OUT OF YOUR CAR AND FACE ME, YOU PIECE OF SHIT.” He roared.

Meanwhile, all four of us were sitting about 5 meters away watching the entire scene unfold. It was thoroughly fascinating.

Now, as luck would have it, there was a police station on the other side of the road. Two policemen approached the scene much like the bomb squad approaches a live explosive. The taxi driver looked visibly relieved.

“Uh, *ahem*, excuse me, sir?” The older policemen weakly offered.

“THANK GOD YOU’RE HERE. This human TURD started honking at me, and now he won’t come out and face me like a FUCKING MAN. Can you please arrest this asshole immediately.” The fat man exclaimed to the policemen. The policemen gulped and looked at each other. The taxi driver began turning white again, realising the police were of no help at all.

“Well… I’m sure you’ve been greatly troubled by this incident, sir,” one policeman said, “but I don’t think he’s actually… um… comm… committed…uhh” he began stammering.

“OH FUCK OFF, I’ve had enough of this shit. I’ve got places to go. Just give him some fucking fine or something.” The fat man shouted, and turned back to his car. He stormed back to his car.

It was at this point, the taxi driver attempted to recover some of his lost man-hood. The taxi driver wound down his window, and extended his arm. I could imagine what was about to unfold. “Nooo… NOOO” I begged him mentally. The taxi driver waited intently, until the fat man was stepping into his car, and was unable to see him. Then, in an oddly western gesture, he extended his middle finger. Almost as though SENSING this, the fat man froze, and snapped his head back to the taxi driver. I could almost see the fire ignite in the fat man’s eyes. The taxi driver’s jaw dropped as he realised he was being watched, and quickly retracted his finger and arm. The fat man went into meltdown.

He got out of the car again, and slammed the door twice as hard. He then ran over and began pounding on the glass, screaming and yelling insults at the taxi driver. The policemen stood by impotently, unwilling to interfere. After a little while of performing his tantrum, he kicked the taxi solidly above the tire, drew back his fist again and looked at the taxi driver. The taxi driver was busy attempting to suck his head back into his neck. The fat mans face twisted into a scowl, and he seemed satisfied with his handiwork. He walked back to his car, fanged a short burnout and took off. The taxi driver shot a look of disgust at the police, and dro
ve off, making the first turn he could. The police shrugged, and returned to their box. We 4 coffee shop Yakuza spectators exchanged silent wide eyed glances.

It was a very interesting glimpse into the world of the Yakuza. The Yakuza have deep roots in Japanese culture, centuries of intensely Japanese tradition. Yet they exhibit many non-Japanese characteristics : walking apart from the crowd - Japanese feel most comfortable being part of a crowd. Not taking any shit from anyone (including angry car horns) - Japanese patience and tolerance is almost supernatural. Never feeling the need to impose any limit on his anger and distaste for other people - Japanese are extremely sensitive to those around them, and do their best to keep the harmony with people around them.

A final word of advice - treat a Yakuza like a highly venemous snake. Somehow mesmorising to watch, yet you wouldn’t want to have one within 10 meters of you.