Survival Japanese with Minimal Effort, or How I Started Obsessively Watching Anime (cringe)

I consider myself decent at charades, but after scrutinizing Google Maps and ogling the spaghetti platter of Tokyo train lines, I decided it might be helpful to at least learn some basic Japanese before traveling. Hence, I loped off to the library and picked up the Berlitz Japanese in 30 Days course book and CD...I'd be practically fluent in a month, right? The Meguro Language Center also offers a nice collection of worksheets that you can download. I dutifully learned some vowel sounds and began piecing together rudimentary sentences. After a few days, I was itching to write some actual Japanese (the text introduces you to romaji first, or anglicized pronunciations using the Roman alphabet), so I flipped to the back of the book, where they formally introduce the three Japanese character systems. Seriously, one wasn't enough? And depending on context, the same character can have different pronunciations? It is settled: Chinese is the superior language.

Anyway, I continued slogging through the course book until lesson 13 or so, when I was memorizing the Japanese words for "arithmetic" and "February." In a sudden epiphany, I realized that the probability of me needing to talk about geography or parts of my body while in Tokyo was pretty darn low. Where would it be most useful to be literate then? Answer: train stations and restaurants.

A little more research revealed that train stations generally have signs in Japanese and English, so I figured I'd be able to navigate that with a color-coded map. How about reading restaurant menus then? After some Googling, I discovered Satterwhite's What's What in Japanese Restaurants, which exhaustively documents the various types of Japanese restaurants and common menu items, with their pronunciations and descriptions. Bingo, now I was learning much more useful vocabulary, like "bamboo shoots" and "grilled eel in a rice bowl." At this point, I'd learned the hiragana (used to write Japanese) and katakana (used for foreign loan words) alphabets, so I could generally sound out words. Actually, I strongly recommend learning katakana because you'll find that your Japanese vocabulary has suddenly grown by a couple thousand words. Take this random bar menu, for instance. I am going to hazard a guess that ｻﾗﾀﾞ (sarada) indicates salad, ﾁｷﾝ (chikin) suggests chicken, and ｽﾐﾉﾌ (suminofu) under the Vodka section means Smirnoff. I don't remember what learning how to read was like, but the wave of warm, fuzzy glee that I felt upon learning katakana was pretty priceless.

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Then, I stumbled across the "Guide to manga and anime" in the Lonely Planet Tokyo guidebook. And despite my staunch refusal to watch anime and be one of Those anime-obsessed nerds, I started to mull over what a large part of Japanese otaku culture I'd be missing out on. Besides, watching subtitled film would help me learn the language right? So in the name of "education," I started off with a couple classic Miyazaki films, My Neighbor Totoro and Princess Mononoke. If you are unfamiliar with Miyazaki, he is sort of the whimsical Japanese Disney, and his films are primarily targeted towards children, though they incorporate deeper themes of feminism and environmentalism. Next, I watched the Ghost in the Shell movie, which, despite strong recommendations from multiple people, sucked. I whined. "No no, you're watching the wrong one," was the rejoinder. "You're supposed to watch the anime series, not the movie." But that's 9 hours of my life, as opposed to 2, I argued. "Look, if I could pay a dollar for a steaming pile of crap, or $5 for something that I'd actually want, I would pay the $5...Anyway, I think you should watch Death Note; it's only 37 episodes." Hmph.

So, one sunny afternoon, I sat down and watched an episode of Death Note. The basic premise is that a notebook is dropped onto Earth by a Death God, and the finder of the notebook can use it to kill someone by simply writing their name inside. After one episode, I was intrigued enough to hit next and watch another 20 minutes. Then another. And another. And another one after that. Friends called to ask if I wanted to go out for dinner and I mumbled some excuse about needing to work on something else. Then I hit next again. Never before had I felt so helpless against the pull of a TV show. Luckily, this was Columbus Day weekend so I had Monday off, otherwise I might have called in sick in order to finish the entire series.

Bleary-eyed, the next day I announced that the anime wall had come crashing down. The reaction was a mixture of congratulations and smug satisfaction. "Welcome. We've been waiting. So, what are you going to watch next?" Erm. I had to keep going? Ah, what the hell. The next week, I went through Cowboy Bebop (a tech-noir, Western space opera...yeah), then started Escaflowne (girl-in-a-magical-land battles large robots) and Serial Experiments Lain (cyberpunk psychological thriller). I discovered the AnimeNfo search engine. I listened to "Tank!" on repeat. I read the "Laws of Anime" and laughed. Wait, what? What had I become? It had been quite a slippery slope. At least I didn't pick up the habit until after graduation?

Also, this costume (a combination of Ronald McDonald & Ryuk from Death Note) got a helluva lot funnier:

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In the end, I'd say I learned just enough Japanese to really explore Tokyo. You can survive well-enough in the city without knowing any Japanese at all, since there is a good deal of English signage, but you will be limited to activities geared towards Western tourists. Some useful phrases that I found myself using daily included "I am American," "I am Chinese" (when they refused to believe I was American), and "Do you speak English?" (You may not have to explain to people that you are foreign.) I would also memorize sumimasen (pardon me), daijyobu (okay), and arigato gozaimasu (thank you very much). Even if you can't speak a lick though, the Japanese are very, very friendly (unlike the French) and will do their best to help you out.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have the other half of Neon Genesis Evangelion to watch.

Engrish Signage of the Day, Part 2

Engrish Signage of the Day

Normally, with bad translations, I can at least guess the writer's intent, but here I am not so sure.

This isn't Engrish so much as something we beelined toward.

On Deutsch

German gets a bad rap for being an ugly language, particularly when compared to the refined sound of French or the romanticism of Italian. Over the years though, I've found that German is quite adept at describing concepts with words that have no English-language equivalent. I suppose this can be true of every language, but I've come across neat words with greatest frequency in German. Anyway, I threw together a compilation of some of my favorites. Many of these have become loanwords in English, and I encourage you to put the others in mainstream use.

• Schadenfreude: As the Avenue Q song puts it, this is happiness at the misfortune of others. ("Straight-A students getting B's, exes getting STDs!")
  
• Zeitgeist: the spirit of the age, used to describe cultural attitudes and moods
  
• Gestalt: the unified whole, something more than the summation of its parts
  
• Funktionlust: the pleasure taken from doing what one does best, loving your drive
  
• Lebenskünstler: "life-artist," or someone who has mastered the art of living, generally through unorthodox means, eschewing the usual rules to make ends meet and happy with their line of work
  
• Ohrwurm: when a song gets stuck in your head
  
• Ansatz: a trial solution that is later verified by its results, oft used in physics and mathematics
  

Define-a-thon

Summer officially kicks off in Chicago when the city is flooded with street fairs. From the Blues Festival to the Pride Parade to Pizza Fest, there's certainly something for everyone. Plus, Chicagoans always come out in droves, since the sunny weather is so ephemeral. This weekend marks the Printer's Row Book Fair in the South Loop. It's an adult version of the Scholastic truck at your elementary school, but with smaller font and fewer free bookmarks.

Having been spoiled by the Ithaca Book Sale, I love looking through bookstores, especially used bookstores with very loose organization. There was a decent selection of tents with used items, but a fair number of shelves were devoted to rare books. If only I could afford to own a library with leather-bound copies and gilt-edged first editions. Aside from booksellers hawking their wares, authors were also present to give lectures, plug for their books and sign copies. I came across S.E. Hinton, author of the middle school classic, The Outsiders, who had her hands full scrawling signatures for the serpentine line behind her. Other literati present included Augusten Burroughs (of Running with Scissors fame), and writer and historian Studs Terkel.

The highlight of the afternoon had rather little to do with books though: a Define-a-thon was taking place. What does that entail? In a twist from your standard spelling bee, the definition of a word was read, and from a set of 4 options, you had to choose the correct synonym or antonym. In a spirited moment of chutzpah, I decided to sign up (the list was capped at 17 or so entrants). Then, I started feeling nervous. Oy veh, what if I am the first person knocked out? I moved a step closer to finding religion.

As we gathered for the start of the competition, I began sizing the others up. Mostly women, and mostly over 40, though there were a few young guys who caught my eye. Maybe they'll be knocked out first, I thought. The woman sitting next to me asked why I'd decided to participate. Oh, I tend to teach my friends new words, I replied. Also, I've played a fair amount of Free Rice. Have you played that before? She said yes, and I gulped inwardly. For a distraction, I started staring at David Kipen. He's the National Endowment for the Arts Literature Director, and was present to announce and play emcee for the event. That's right, we were in the presence of the nation's most eminent literature maven, complete with full shock of Malcolm Gladwell-like white hair. I shifted nervously in my chair on stage, and the Define-a-thon began.

The first round of questions came from set 1 (there were 3 total), and were fairly simple. I answered my question correctly and breathed a sigh of relief as I passed the microphone to the lady behind me. An element comprising 80% of the earth's atmosphere, Kipen asked, is it dirt, helium, nitrogen or ozone? She stalled and asked for the question to be repeated. I held my breath; this seemed a little unfair for a set 1 question, since it depended on having scientific knowledge. She hazarded a guess. Ozone? I'm sorry, that's incorrect, the answer is nitrogen. Oh, how embarrassing! She exited the stage. I felt some schadenfreude.

The questions continued coming rapid-fire, and we moved into set 2. I was asked for an organism, such as a fungus or mold, that derives nourishment from organic remains. (The answer was saprophyte.) A few more people got knocked out of the competition, but overall, the group was still doing quite well, spitting out words like "penumbra" and "diphthong" without breaking a sweat. 35 minutes into the game, we moved into set 3 and I started to really worry.

What is the antonym of riant, Kipen quizzed a guy in the front row. (Thank you, Free Rice, a word I learned from that site actually came in handy!) The gentleman stumbled and did not pick the right answer (dour), and set 3 began knocking out a slew of contestants. Including myself. When asked for a coal miner, I decided to guess "dowser" (the answer was "collier"), and gracefully accepted the applause as I left the stage. It was probably for the best, as the questions were only getting more ridiculous. In Sanskrit poetry...with 8 syllables in a pada...gee, you know it's hard when there are words you've never seen before in the definition itself.

In the end, the pool was narrowed to two finalists: Elizabeth, the librarian, and Sean, the um, temp worker (and one of the guys I thought would be knocked out early on). I was rooting for Sean, of course, as they competed for the grand prize of American Heritage Dictionaries. The runner-up would receive a somewhat smaller college edition, while the winner would get the standard version. As the final minutes ticked, Elizabeth got a question right, which meant Sean had to answer this next question correctly, or face public ignominy: a grey-breasted wading bird? After asking for spellings, he guessed hallux. Alas, the answer was whimbrel.

Aside from reading a lot, and actively learning vocabulary, it seems like specialization in lots of subjects would be the best way to go about winning this contest. Unfortunately for me, there was only one question which smacked vaguely of economics (on cartels). No matter, I plan to play a lot of Free Rice between now and next June.