Lost in translation

So far, four days into my solo holiday to Tokyo, I think things are going well. I’m becoming somewhat more comfortable going into restaurants and cafés to buy food. (Admittedly, my confidence grows with places that promote an ‘English menu available’!) And, on the whole, I’ve also managed to limit my exposure to gluten (to which I have an intolerance) — no small feat in a country which loves soy sauce and noodles that are typically wheat-based!

But I still feel a twinge of regret and embarrassment. Here I am in Japan, where people — unsurprisingly — speak Japanese. And yet I’m hoping every time I walk into an eatery (or, indeed, any kind of shop) that the person behind the counter, or the waiter taking my order, understands and speaks English. Tourist sites are one thing, of course. But on the streets of Tokyo, it seems an unfair burden to impose on locals.

I can’t help but feel that there is something inherently arrogant about English-speakers when it comes to expecting people in other countries to know English. When a Japanese tourist visits Melbourne, how many places can they walk into and find someone who knows their language? It’s an asymmetry that English-speakers are able to take advantage of.

I’d like to think I’m better than many in this regard. Although I’ve long since forgotten the little bit of Japanese I learned in primary school, I went on to study German in high school and university. I admit I’m not fluent, but I could muster a passable conversation in the language if forced to. In this regard, I wouldn’t face the same unease I feel here in Tokyo were I instead in Berlin. Moreover, it is entirely unrealistic to expect that anyone could know every language in the world and be able to drop in to a given location and easily converse with the locals.

Even so, I wish I knew more. My overwhelming impression is that the Japanese people are extremely polite. Attendants at shops will cheerfully rattle off a whole stream of what I’m sure are stock standard phrases in their tongue, but I can do no more than manage an awkward smile, a nod of the head, and glance at the register screen to know how much I need to pay. At the end of this bizarre exchange, I manage a weak ‘domo arigato’, before a few more words are uttered that I don’t understand, and I make for the exit.

Then there are the more chance encounters with the locals. An old and, dare I say, slightly eccentric man came up to me in the Tokyo National Museum this afternoon and randomly started chatting to me. It took me a while to realise it, given his accent and the speed with which he spoke, that he was talking to me in English. Recognising that I was a foreigner, he asked where I was from — Australia, I said — and whether I knew any Japanese. Humiliatingly, I had to say no, so he trundled off to chat to some other unsuspecting stranger.

In reality, I don’t think he thought any less of me. (Though he might well have been impressed had I said I did speak Japanese.) But I thought less of myself. I like communicating with people, and being unable to — at least without extremely heavy reliance on a phrase book — is a personal challenge for this trip.

But, lest I be accused of being sour about my time over here, I am still having a fantastic time over here. I never doubted my ability to travel on my own. Apart from anything, I enjoy the ability to plan my own journeys and explore Japan in my own way. It is a liberating experience.

However, relying on others to be able to converse in a language that isn’t native to them does somewhat take the gloss off this. To that end, if I came back here again, one thing I’d do is to try and learn a few more words and phrases — maybe even some that I can read — before getting off the plane.