Broken English in Tokyo

Specifically, mine.

I have reverted to Simplified English in my everyday speech. Not just with Japanese folks. Not just with the Italians, French, Chinese, and Germans populating the dorms. No, even with Americans and Brits, I find myself using simple language and speaking... absurdly... slowly.... (Yes, slower than normal.)

You may not be familiar with this concept, but there are some people out there who are proposing that the commonly-used international language should be Simplified English. For internationals, what is the point of memorizing all of the plural exceptions, obscure sentence patterns, and bizarre spellings? As long as information is carried across, there's no need for sticklerism.

Before you balk, please consider this: according to Wikipedia, estimates vary, but many indicate that there are more speakers of English as a second language than there are speakers of it as their native tongue. There are more of them than us. Therefore shouldn't they have a say in how English is to be defined?

They certainly have a say in how my English is defined. I go around saying stuff like "This fish does good." "I live on floor one." "At this time can you go?" Help.

Break in Service

Apologies for the lack of content for the past several days. Instead of the usual late-blogger platitudes, here is a compromise: http://knaak.tumblr.com/

Posting my pictures here in this blog is problematic. I'm a bit perfectionistic when it comes to photos, but I don't have the time to fool around in this old, clunky version of Photoshop I've got here.

I am much less picky about cameraphone photos, hence I've created Unbroken Tokyo, a tumblelog that I can update very simply from my phone. "Unbroken" because, hopefully, it will be continuously updated. Those of you on Facebook might not want to subscribe to Unbroken's feed, since it'll be updating there, too. Or maybe you don't want to miss out on any of my food photos. If so, by all means.

Yes, I said food photos. "Unbroken" will be mundane in the extreme. I promise scads of mundanity, punctuated with an interesting shot every 40th shot. Look forward to weird kanji, strange English, bizarre fashions, and foreign scenery, slipped amidst the hundreds of photos I will take of my breakfast natto.

Admittedly, I did not take a picture of my dinner tonight, after I had this whole great idea, but, starting tomorrow...

Broke in Tokyo Tip: Hyakuen Shop

You may think this is an obvious tip for the frugal Tokyoite. You may already know about the wonders of the 100-yen shop. You may already have been to one many times for food, clothing, storage solutions, stationary, cleaning supplies, basically anything and everything.

I knew about it, too, and I still made the mistake of not going to a Hyakuen shop as soon as I got to my new place.

For those who don't know, a Hyakuen (100 yen) shop sells everything for 105 yen (the extra 5 is tax). You may think, "Oh, it's like a dollar store back in the States." Oh ho ho no, it's so much more.

The dollar stores in the States have tons of crap that I never really need, plus anything from such stores breaks within an hour. The Hyakuen shops in Japan have tons of stuff that I do need, and it's not really that bad in quality. Far from breaking within the first hour, I still use some 105-yen items I purchased over 4 years ago.

I got to my dorm and found that I needed dishes, shampoo, etc. I followed some people to a supermarket. Big mistake. I could have found everything I bought at the supermarket and more at the Hyakuen shop.

If you specifically like higher-quality shower supplies, here's a more specific tip for you. In Japan, shampoo, conditioner, and body wash comes two ways: in pumps and refill bags. The pumps cost about twice as much as the bags. I got refill bags at the store, and then I bought Hyakuen-shop empty pumps, saving at least 300 yen per item.

Make the Hyakuen shop your first stop. I wouldn't buy everything soley from it; I do like better food and teas. But it will get you started living cheaply in Tokyo.

Breaking into Tokyo

When I first flew to Japan, back a few years, I was nervous as hell. I was memorizing little phrases on the plane, thinking about how bad I might suck as a teacher, unable to sleep much.

This time, it was completely different. In fact, I had a hard time distinguishing what I was feeling exactly. I was a little nervous about the classes, but not much. I know enough of the language to get around anywhere with little confusion. So what was I feeling? Wrapped up in all the packing, organizing, physical therapy, seeing friends and family, I hadn't had much time for introspection.

As the plane descended after the 13th hour, through wispy layers of clouds that became an overcast sky once we were close enough to see the rice fields, and as the plane landed the air was filled with a grey haze, and we taxied down the runway past a neatly-trimmed hedge that said NARITA (the airport's name), and then later, after passing through customs, when an elderly lady airport attendant showed me how the luggage carts were designed to fit perfectly onto the escalators, and then later, on the train to Tokyo, in the middle of the rush hour press, when one guy fell asleep with his head just below my shoulder blade on my back, so I couldn't move without waking him, and I looked around at everybody's personal fashion, everyone so put together, and later, as I fought with a salaryman who was pushing my bags out of his way while I was holding them in place, and as I stood there looking at the sunset, which had liquified the grey haze into a gleaming gold against the concrete and the wires and the signs, I realized what I had been feeling.

Relief. At coming back to a place that is more a part of me than I ever admitted.

I'm excited to be focusing on my Japanese. I'm thrilled for this opportunity to advance towards a career in linguistics and translation. But, in a certain sense, Japan is a kind of home. I don't think I'll end up living here for good. For now, though, it'll do.