Only in Japan

It is only natural, when encountering another culture, to compare it with your own. In recent days, I've found that my Elementary Students are more surprised at England's' similarities to Japan than they are at the differences.

Their questions invariably take the form of

"Do you have (insert object) in England?"

Somewhere along the line however, possibly around the same time they learn that foreigners can't use chopsticks or speak Japanese, the question changes into

"You don't have (insert Japanese object/concept) in (America/England/whatever foreign country you come from) do you?"

The enquiring nature and curiosity about another place has been replaced with Nihoncentricity. This isn't a quirk of the indirect approach to conversation expected of adults - the only way to compare "gaikoku" to Japan is to find what is wanting and revel in the wonder that is Nippon.

These thoughts are stirred by a conversation with the principal of my most recently visited Junior High. He is a good natured, affable and hearty fellow with terrible teeth. A conversation starts about food, questions arise as to what certain things are called in English, and up floats the word "wabi-sabi" (侘寂).

This word embodies the Japanese aesthetic of transience, the beauty of impermanence and impermanence of beauty. Naturally, such an ancient philosophical ideal from the other side of the planet doesn't have too many easily produced equivalents in the mongrel tongue that is English, and this only confirms what is generally considered a given - Japan is brilliant and unique. The principal tried to console me with the oft quoted dictum

"Nihongo ga muzukashii yo ne?" (Japanese is difficult, isn't it?)

followed up by my first encounter with

"Kotoba ga ooi." (There are many words.)

Indeed there are.