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Yoroshiku

The photo that got away

At nine p.m. on Saturday night I was walking through the PATH system, which is basically a series of underground tunnels connecting various malls and subway stops throughout the city. (It sounds silly, but you try getting from point A to point B in January when it’s -25C outside, and you’ll quickly see the benefits.) Anyway. Two women were sitting on a bench in the closed mall. One was just beginning to braid the other’s hair, a project that looked like it would take another two hours at the very least.

Sage, Paul and Todd are watching the first episode of the latest season of The Amazing Race. The first team has just hit the finishing mat, and Phil, the host, is giving them the good news.

Sage Don’t hug Phil! Noooo, don’t hug Phil. [hiding face] This is so embarassing.

Todd Hee hee.

Five minutes later, another team has just had their car fixed by a mechanic at the gas station. One of the team members runs over and hugs the mechanic.

Sage Oh my god, what the hell, don’t hug the mechanic. Boundaries, people! Boundaries!

Paul Mama, why don’t you want people to hug? It’s nice when people hug each other.

Sage I don’t think they should hug strangers.

Paul What do you mean?

Sage I mean…okay, look. If you were walking down the street and you saw Hoggle from Labyrinth, you wouldn’t run up and hug him, right? I mean, that would scare him! Hugging people you know is great, but these teams, they don’t know Phil, or the mechanic, or anybody. They should stick to hugging each other.

Paul Ohhhh. I get it.

I’ve had a long-standing fascination with Japan, beginning with Elisabeth Bumiller’s “The Secrets of Mariko: a year in the life of a Japanese woman and her family”. I spent much of Paul’s first four months reading while he nursed (he nursed until he was three, but I think I was too stunned by his very existence to do anything but read for the first four months) and because Bumiller’s book was one of the first I picked up, those four months were filled with books about modern Japan. I read every book on the subject I could find, and only stopped because the flow of books dried up.

Six years later, my thirst for knowledge about Japan has been renewed, owing mostly to the Toronto library system, which (knock on wood) has a seemingly endless supply of books about this strange nation.

Rick Kennedy, an ex-New Yorker who’s been living in Tokyo for thirty years, writes in “Home, Sweet Tokyo”:

As I make it, you need only ten words and phrases to carry you gracefully through just about any situation…The first phrase to learn is yoroshiki onegai itashimasu, or simply, with people you know reasonably well, yoroshiku. English translations of this phrase are invariably grotesque - something like “I ask you to look favorably on me” - but it can be used to mean almost anything from “Hello” and “Goodbye” to “Please lend me 10,000 yen” and “Don’t bother me”.

I related this to a Canadian friend, then said jokingly that all you need to know in Canada is “Oh, sorry!” and then that very day proceeded to have the following conversation with a deli clerk:

Sage I’d like two buttered bagels, one for here, and one to go.

Clerk One with butter, one without?

Sage Oh. No, I’m sorry, one to go, one for here. Both with butter.

Clerk I’m sorry. One for here, one to go. That comes to $3.29.

Sage Sorry, can I use my debit card?

Clerk Yes, right here.

Sage, as usual, slides the debit card through incorrectly.

Clerk Sorry, it’s like this.

Sage Sorry! There you go.

Clerk Now, two bagels? One to go with butter? One for here, no butter?

Sage No, sorry, I didn’t explain very well.

Clerk Sorry!

In “Tokyo, My Everest: A Canadian Woman in Japan”, Gabrielle Bauer writes:

People who are drawn to Japan (aside from those who are in it only for the money or the easy sexual conquests) tend to be reserved, reflective, intense in a muted sort of way, people who value solitude as much as social intercourse. Thailand’s champions, on the other hand, are relaxed and expansive, comfortable in their own skin and not, as a rule, overly driven.

I found this theory very curious. Putting politics aside, am I drawn to Canada because I value politeness, practicality, friendliness and helping when I can? This country is certainly not as confrontational as I am - witness the general appalled looks I got from my Canadian friends when I yelled at the teacher - and the fascination with sports bewilders me. But would I feel as at home somewhere else? I don’t think I would.

Todd asked the other day if I would be interested in living for a year in Japan, because he could investigate the possibility with his company.

“Oh, no way,” I said.

He was surprised. “I thought you’d jump at the chance!”

“No, no,” I said. “Japan, for me, is like a big giant crush. From afar. I’d fail miserably at a society based on non-confrontation and subtle looks to convey your opinion, where one word can mean anything from “That would be nice” to “That’s an outrageous suggestion”, depending on the amount of air sucked in after saying it, a culture that hates saying the word ‘no’. I mean, I loved Sting when I was fifteen too, but if he’d showed up at my door and asked for a date I would have run screaming.”