日本語能力試験三級

合格した！！

Sankyuu berry macho.

Rapture

To my profound joy, a couple of my second year boys have hit upon the hilarious revelation that my name, with regards to the Japanese rendering of Western words, is but two syllables away from "clitoris." That they excercise their discovery with such regularity makes me hope they might actually start learning some new words...but I'm not holding my breath.

見て、見て！

「ATOK」というソフトウエアを買った!

So now, I can type in Japanese...just have to work out how to use the thing properly...

Reading

There is nothing more likely to ruin a consistently solid run of reading than starting a book reviewing blog, but I've not stopped completely. At the moment I'm wrestling with ゲゲゲの鬼太郎 (Ge ge ge no Kitarou) and since it's in Japanese, I'm struggling.

First published in 1966, this series of manga by Shigeru Mizuki features pretty much the entire bestiary of traditional Japanese monsters, or 妖怪 (Youkai). The protaganist, Kitarou (meaning Ogre/Demon Boy) occassionaly acts as a go-between for the worlds of Humans and Monsters, helping out one when the other oversteps their bounds. What I've read so far is gleefully ghoulish. Take for example, Kitaro's father, Medama Oyaji (eyeball father) who lives in his son's empty eye socket, usually obscured by that rouge flap of hair.

At the moment, a young baseball player has happened across Kitarou's bat (lying about in a graveyard). The bat of course has magical powers, and the team are on their way to becoming professionals, when Kitarou turns up, wanting it back. The young player is reluctant to relinquish his tool to fame, so a challenge is declared, naturally, with a game of baseball...Kitarou's team mates are a variety of nasty creatures, and the human baseball players are appropriately terrified, as this game may cost them their souls...

...so that's what I'm doing now...

日本語能力試験四級 - Nihongo nou ryoku shiken yon kyuu - Japanese Language Proficiency Test Level 4

I passed! 328 out of 400, boo-ya! I may even go for level two this year, the exam I've just done being but small potatoes, especially compared to the glut of alien grammar already encountered after only two months of level three study...

凄い上手 - Sugoi Jouzu - Amazing skill!

Recently I've been engaged in a very short debate with Andy about the way Japanese people react to foreigners using their language - one almost universally receives hearty congratulations for displaying the most elementary linguistic hoop jumping, so readily that doubt is cast upon sincerity.

This is something I noticed just weeks after my arrival...reading back, those entries betray a wide eyed bubble of enthusiasm, a sharp contrast to some of the black rage I've since experienced...at worst, being complimented for being able to say "yes" in a foreign language is patronising, insulting and makes a mockery of ones efforts to communicate.

However, the consistency of this response makes me think that there's more to it . Also, the remnants of my faith in humanity convince me that not even a society as unconsciously racist as Japan can be so uniformly condescending.

Since the dawn of Japan, the backbone of this society has had everybody mucking in and working on labour intensive rice production. With such an impetus, it's vitally important that everybody gets on with everybody else, even if it's only on the surface. In all probability, such freely given praise is a reflex - they don't even think about it, being neither complimentary nor patronising.

All this was churning about whilst I was doing my shopping. As I'd finished, I was unlocking my bike, and an elderly lady next to me apologised for having the audacity to be potentially in my way (she wasn't in the slightest). In Japanese, I replied "no, no". She looked at me and noticing that I wasn't Japanese did a double take. The inevitable resounding compliment arrived. Considering what I had just been thinking about and the conclusion I'd reached, I had no choice but to laugh in her face. I thanked her and cycled off, utterly bewildered.

Tonsillitis? Again?

With a vengeance it would seem. Where last years throat infection was "acute", this one is "chronic", and there was never a more fitting adjective...except perhaps "fucking".


The left side of the back of my mouth has swelled to the point of my throat closing up, resulting in my only being able to eat soup...certainly, a harsh way to fight back the Christmas Belly. Furthermore, as well as being slightly swollen itself, my tongue has not the free space it formerly did to dart about, where once the cavern of my mouth was a glorious echo chamber for my favourite wobbly pink bit of flesh. That constant pitter-patter of talking, indicitive of my genus has been replaced with a thick, plodding tumble of muddy syllables, and now I sound like Sloth, only less articulate.

Up and down, this has given me a week off work...so I can go to the hospital everyday & they can stick things in me...but it will make me better...but I won't get paid for that week. Life, oh life, oh life...

I'd better make some observations about Japan then...what they expect you to know and what they are surprised at you knowing is another example of the "either-or, nothing in the middle" mentality. Although I understood the pathologically complicated, yet grammatically speaking, refreshingly simple, directions and procedure to register as an out-patient, my directee didn't appear convinced of my comprehension. Not two minutes later, she corrected my use of Honorific Japanese (or Keigo), something that the Japanese themselves find difficult, and I've not even started studying it yet...although I suspect that this week will have me galloping through my textbook...or sitting on the sofa drinking tea.

Yet another entry wherein I bewail a timetable that leaves me scarce opportunity to blog...and some announcements...

I seem to be absurdly busy this time of year. This is not to say I have run out of ideas, no, no, no, rather, I am gradually coming to realise that a sure sign of getting old is constantly having stuff to do, and yet never seeming to get anywhere.

Something has to give, and I'm afraid it's the blogs of Anger and Lucidity. Since November, I have only recently been inspired to write something in that bleak little corner of cyberspace, and now I'm having second thoughts about the idea.

The original plan was to have a foaming blast of pure anger and then a calmer counter-argument...recently, I've found it difficult to separate the two sides into two different pieces of writing, thusly they're both for the chop...having two less blogs to manage will no doubt allow me to pay the attention I promised to this one, and let me concentrate on learning this damn language.

...but it's not like I've been idle in terms of writing. My efforts for the Design Festa have finally seen the light of day, and I've encountered my first ever buzz-word - on-spec, meaning on-speculation, which means that I've sent something to the editor of a magazine, and he's pondering whether or not it's going to be published...I think...

Design Festa 24 & The Japanese Language Proficiency Test, Level 4

My, what a busy weekend this has been. As part of my resolution some posts back, I've vowed to do as much writing as I possibly can, so on saturday, I volunteered at the Design Festa, interviewing artists, visitors and writing it all up for the website. At the time of writing, the event is still in full swing, but I have had totemo ooki sakana wo furai*.

For the past couple of months, I've been kicking myself for not going that bit further and taking level 3. Since then, I've bought the level three text book (how many kanji?) and come to the realisation that this is the first exam I've taken for ten years...maybe I could do with getting used to that situation again.

So today, myself and another couple of hundred ex-pats hot-footed it over to a temporarily vacated University building to take our test. Our besuited monitors didn't speak at all. The instructions, in very slow and soothing Japanese, possibly narrated by a kindergarten teacher, came from a stereo. Something I don't remember from my GCSE's is that the monitors had a series of cards to issue warnings to misbehavers; yellow for "watch it", red for "in the shower!"

The test was divided up into three sections - writing and vocabulary, listening, reading and grammar. I stormed the reading and vocabulary, even if I do say so myself. The listening was a bit ropey, and the grammar, uncertain...

Japanese students of English have tremendous difficulties with articles (at, on, in, to etc), and I myself struggle with their equivalent, particles.

The particle ni for example, indicates movement.

"Ie ni kaerimasu."
"Return home."

It also indicates a place of existence...

"Tokyo ni imasu."
"(I'm) in Tokyo."

...and the subject towards whom an action is directed.

"Yamada Sensei ga Gaikokujin ni Nihongo wo osheteimasu"
"Yamada teaches Japanese to foreigners."

It's fairly easy to work out how ni is used from the context of the sentence (vanquishing supernatural warriors for example), but my confusion comes with the particle "de, which is also used as a place of existence,

"Kissaten de kaimashou."
"Let's meet at the coffee shop."

Of course, now that I have my books with me, and I'm reading up for this entry, I realise that de indicates a place where action is performed, whereas ni refers only to location. Which I'm sure you all wanted to know.

So, it's done. The only thing left to do is start studying for level three. Results in February, see you then.


*Very big fish to fry.

Text found on the front of a diary in a bookshop

"There is a deep seated tendency among Europeans to make much of things which have come down from the past."

...erm...pot, kettle, black?

Mou chotto yukuri itte kudasai...

...or in English, "can you speak a little more slowly please?"

I've been saying that a lot for the past couple of days. The Koucho Sensei of my current school is a splendidly nice man, friendly, enthusiastic, interested in Japanese history and quite willing to share his views. The problem is that he overestimates my language abilities, and talks incredibly fast in a very gruff, manly accent, akin to Rowlf speaking Japanese whilst buzzing his tits off.

I did manage to glean the following from him - that he is incredibly interested in old things...that Kiyomizudera is best viewed in the early morning when there are no tourists...that, although not quite on the same scale as Stonehenge, Japan has her own stone circle and that ancient records from European countries are easier to read than those in Japan, because of the way in which paper was made...I think...

Eikaiwa...and Nihongo kaiwa?

Well, so much for updating every day. In recent months, my evenings have been chocka-block with English conversation classes.

English education is a massive industry in Japan, the diabolical Nova being but one head on a veritable Hydra of Eikaiwa Kaisha (English Conversation Companies). Although some former employees have said it isn't all that bad, I consider myself fortunate not to be attached to a company like Nova (running joke over here is that it's short for "NO VAcation"). What I have is a couple of private classes, both of which just seemed to fall into my lap.

One is about fourteen adults in Yokohama, from all walks of life. This is in something of a classroom setting, and I am completely responsible for materials, lesson plans et al. This is the sort of thing I learned to do in the CELTA. Teaching adults who actually want to learn allows me to things that I'd never dream of doing with teenagers.

Tonight, I've been at a much more informal affair at a local Elementary School. My students are all teachers at this school, and I've worked with them in my day to day job.

The set up is this - we sit around a table. We drink coffee. We eat biscuits. We gossip. I get paid.

Tonight, I did something I've been planning for ages, namely, creating a CD of the most weirdly obscure and scary Japanese music I could, and subjecting these poor women to it. They were very patient, considering the looks of genuine anguish on their faces.

If that wasn't enough, on wednesdays I have a Japanese conversation class...this has had me appearing on Kawasaki Radio, and on saturday, will take me to some education centre, where I'll be giving some sort of presentation for some reason in front of an indeterminate number of people...so, the only writing I've been doing in recent days is this speech...

...so, no daily update, and a series of excuses...tune in next time when you'll read Shining Love Pig saying...

The Tension of Tests

The English testing system over here is idiotic.

Today, I took a class of Third Year students through the rough equivalent of a dry run of their upcoming tests...although, they do so many a year that it's hard to know how decisive this particular run will be.

The procedure involves a simple greeting and maybe a few appropriately pitched questions. Then I hand them a small piece of text that may have come from a copy of "101 Paths: A Road Map to Good Citizenship". The student then reads this special brand of Japanese English and answers some utterly facile questions about what was written within. This done, the paper is discarded to make way for a couple of completely unrelated and confusing questions, before being returned to for a "what do you think?" section. There are two given answers, a positive and a negative, implied by the text and expected of a well behaved member of society.

Naturally, the students who did well in this little ballet are those I know to be diligent and capable. However, it's not their English prowess that is being stretched. The answers came verbatum from the sheet.

What is being measured here isn't an actual communicative skill; rather, it is the ability to spot hoops and jump through them.

By contrast, not an hour earlier, I had a Second Year class, where the little tykes were preparing for roughly the same thing. Being an academic year below the aforementioned class, you'd expect Second Years to have a lower ability...but surely, what marks competence in a foreign language is having the crutches and scaffolding removed, and actually being able to communicate. I had conversations with these students - we talked about their dreams. They understood questions that, as the textbook dictates, they shouldn't be able to answer.

Maybe the difference in each lesson lies in teaching method...

Culture Day

Just what we need - a three day weekend. This of course doesn't apply to everybody in Japan - take the tireless teachers of the terrible tykes who will the Tennos' of tomorrow. As I staggered outdoors for the first time today, I was greeted by an onrush of my students, jogging dutifully around the school. I however, had only been out of my pyjamas for fifteen minutes.

November the third was originally the birdate of the Emperor Meiji. It also commemorates the adoption of the post WWII constitution. Schools across Japan have been preparing for the event with Culture Festivals and the like...these have the school presenting all the meats of their cultural stew, such as drama, art caligraphy, music and foreign language ability. This last aspect usually involves resident Gaijin Assistants presiding over a competition of English Presentations...and it's sometimes fun, especially when one sees the schools who work out that the way to win these things is to entertain the judges.

My favourite school in the whole of Kawasaki (alas, one that I have lost) presented an English version of an old Japanese folk tale...

An old man accidentaly drops a rice ball down a mouse hole...he then hears celebrating mice, and drops another one...the excitement down below mounts, and the kind old man gives them the last of his lunch. The grateful mice give the old man a box, and tell him to take it home. This he does, and he and his wife open it up, only to discover a large amount of gold. Popular in tales involving a kind old man is the mans neighbour being mean and spiteful. Upon discovering what has happened to the nice old man, this sour character decides to see if he can get a similar result...naturally with dire consequences.

What I really enjoyed about this presentation was that every time the old man dropped some food, a student would appear from behind the wings with a cardboard cut-out rice ball mounted on his arm like a shield. He would then adopt a Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers stance, bellow "Rice Ball Number 1, GO!!' and do a series of somersaults towards the prop representing the mouse hole.

Also of note was a retelling of Urashima Taro, which interestingly enough contains that old story germ about time in "faery-land" running at a different pace from the Earth. In this updated version, when Urashima Taro returns home, he is of course in smelly, noisy and utterly bewildering 21st Century Japan.

More plays would have been fantastic. Unfortunately, there is a tendency in events like this to be presented with monologues. Some of the issues these kids battle their way through are undoubtedly important. The problems come when such speeches are translated directly...

When listing things, such as the contents of a bag, the Japanese would say enpitsu ya megane ya seifu nado, the ya almost acting like commas and the nado meaning "...and so on". Unfortunately, this applies to all lists, and when translated into English, something is lost by this linguistic quirk. The earnest outpourings of these bright-eyed teenagers seem lacking in sincerity when they appeal us to consider the horrors of "...famine, poverty, war and so on."

Oops...

Done it again...sunday has rolled around with me doing no actual preparation for this blog...maybe it`s got something to do with The Japanese Language Proficiency Test which your humble author is studying for...the level I`m taking, 四きゅう is the most basic "I like sushi, but I don`t like natto" stuff, but I`m not sufficiently confident to make the leap into 三きゅう...

I did intend to write in greater detail about this man as I`ve just read his book, "The Japan that can say No", written before the collapse of the Soviet Union, wherein he calls for Japan to assert her international clout by refusing to supply superior Japanese semiconductors to America, and stops short of suggesting changing "allegiance" to Russia. The book itself, in the wake of Japans` economic slump & the end of the Cold War seems pretty irrelevant right now, and although I agree with him when he complains of powerful countries like the US & the UK throwing their weight around, in the chapter entitled "Racial Discrimination: The Root of Japan bashing?" he draws the flies of my wrath to the steaming faeces of his opinions.

In describing the idea that the Japan is suffering from a morbidly low self esteem, he writes of a "contemptible" piece of work from a Japanese writer who states that he considers his countrymen to be "...no more attractive than pygmies."

Another quote I`ve heard attributed to Mr Ishihara is a voicing of his fears regarding Chinas` sudden economic rise, a potentially catastrophic state of affairs, since the Chinese "...have no morals and will pollute the world."

And if that wasn`t enough, why not have a look at these pearls of diplomatic wisdom and a word from another blogger?

When however, he says that racial discrimination is the root of Japan bashing, I agree with him...but our interpretations of that statement are polarised somewhat...



So anyway, we`ve got Dave and Sam (although bereft of an online prescence that I`m aware of, still very lovely) visiting over the next two weeks...consequently, this blog will be neglected for just as long...indeed, history does repeat itself...

Of short tempers, vacuums & landlords

It`s summer! I`m sweating like a legion of bastards! The cockroaches are multitudinous and colossal! We`re getting eaten alive by mosquitoes!

When taking a break from the Japanese study that my holiday daily permits me, I inevitably find some excuse to wander down the local shopping street, ostensibly for little domestic things, in reality, to bask in the glorious air-conditioning. On friday, I had a valid reason, namely the pursuit of that most elusive of creatures, the correct hoover-bag.

Even in English I don`t like to ask for things in shops; doubly so in Japanese, as I still haven`t developed the habit of checking my dictionary for the right word. This oversight frequently leaves me stuck & eventually having to perform a little mime, complete with sound effects to a politely amused assistant.

Three such captive audiences later, and it seemed to transpire that I had to buy a new hoover, as the right bag had apparently been discontinued. As I walked home, my brain was exploding with the absurdity of it all - the typically Japanese desire for new products lest the old ones come to life.

As one particular rant stampedes through my skull, so it kicks open the sluice gates that hold back a rabble of volcanic diatribes. On bad days, the cultural and linguistic isolation of being an ethnic minority makes you question the sanity (and if you`re really angry, the morality) of your host country.

In more lucid moments, I realise that this frustration can be overcome by studying the language voraciously, which, hangovers permitting, I`ve been doing. Peculiarities of accent however can lead to misunderstanding, something I`ve experienced the other side of when dealing with foreign students in the Library. Sometimes, when hearing your own language spoken to you by someone from another country, a mysterious fog descends, filtering out recognisable sounds and creating a near shapeless mass of weird noises. This is a double edged sword, requiring clear speaking & intense listening from each party, which isn`t always possible. My own shortcomings in this field have tested the patience of many a foreign student wanting to get a point across, and so here the roles are reversed - when somebody can`t understand my Japanese, I become frustrated, as someone else I was talking to not an hour ago had no problem whatsoever.

With these mini-tempests boiling away inside, it`s easy to forget the other side of human beings. Stomping home from a communicative conundrum, I often run into the benevolent Tsuchiya san, our landlord, next-door neighbour, a spectacularly well preserved sixty-eight, these days mucking about in the garden a great deal, with an endearing straw hat (one of which I am now the proud owner).

More often than not, he wants to give us food. Our fridge frequently creaks under the weight of his generosity. Recently, I think he`s clocked my new found zeal for Japanese, as the past few times he`s called me up to his flat, I`ve been given kanji lessons (the record time a staggering three hours). We sit on his porch, perched on a single geta each, him demonstrating the correct stroke order for sundry kanji (the difference it makes is staggering), or how to look the things up in a dictionary, myself listening to the best of my ability, as it`s all in Japanese. It`s not unheard of for us to share watermelons or corn on the cob, both in season now.

Tsuchiya sans` family has lived in this part of Kawasaki since the Edo period; a good three hundred years. The collection of buildings wherein we live carries his name, and was, I suspect, at some point part of a larger Tsuchiya estate. I`m the first foreigner he`s met. He couldn`t speak English before then. It seems that the prescence of Hayley & myself has inspired him to study. He uttered his first English word ("trash") just over a year ago when explaining the rubbish collection procedure to me.

On bad days, I`ve come to expect dismissal, ignorance, coldness and racism from many elderly Japanese. It`s refreshing that my cynical prejudices are consistently swept aside by none other than my landlord.

...and it seems that the only thing that`s changed about hoover-bags is the serial numbers. Halleluia.

The bakegasa speaks

I'm really quite embarrassed that my umbrella has achieved a command of English in considerably less time than it's taken me to learn pidgin Japanese. My attempts to speak in its native tongue are met with scorn to say the least. Accusations of crimes against the Japanese language are the most diplomatic of responses I've received. Having a kancho performed upon my posterior by a hopping umbrella is the least.

It's chosen a name for itself; Wasureki, or lost/forgotten tree. The name implies a sense of regret or melancholy, not evident in conversation, except for the odd moment of dewy-eyed patriotism. Wasureki san is well assured of its pedigree, insisting that part of the tree it came from was made into the hilt of the katana that Mishima Yukio used to commit seppuku. Like most Japanese, it has a very clear awareness of its roots.

As I said last week, objects become tsukumogami after they've existed for one hundred years. The interesting thing about Wasureki san is that it appears to have been self-aware for quite some time, even before it "came to life". When I think of the wealth of experience this umbrella has, I realise that I'm on to something amazing. It's seen four Emperors, two world wars, economic depression, boom and bust, the industrialisation of Japan, Hiroshima & Nagasaki, the Great Kanto Earthquake...20th century Japan on a stick you might say...but not directly to Wasureki san.

The precedence of seniority being what it is over here, I have to show the utmost respect to this former umbrella. This, coupled with my sketchy knowledge of Japanese history has resulted in several informal lectures on it's part. I can do little but sit and listen, which galls me sometimes, as I can detect a certain bias in its ululating.

Cultural, linguistic and generational factors aside (and disregarding the odd rectal intrusion), we get along fine. My interest in Japanese culture stands in my favour, but debating issues could be problematic.

Incidentally, I've received a few private emails that call the authenticity of last weeks photograph into question. With reference to other crypto-zoological images, I'd like to point out that an inferior photograph doesn't necessarily disprove the existence of these entities. Patrick Harpur, for example, postulates that the ambiguous nature of such creatures is reflected in their physical attributes; that they are neither corporeal nor ethereal, hence, are buggers to photograph. I've sent the picture to Fortean Times...time will tell...

The English Engine

Nobody could accuse the Japanese of not being thorough. Many are the fables that describe the rigorous discipline of Samurai who, it's said, would practice drawing their sword in the correct manner for an entire year before learning how to actually use it.
This meticulous (and sometimes infuriating) attitude is evident in language education, which centres around choral drilling, or constant repetition of set words and phrases.

One upshot of this is that most English students here have an incredible vocabulary, but not necessarily the skills, confidence or opportunity to use it in natural conversation. Those who do, tend to have a repertoire of McSpeech - words like "really?" or phrases such as "how about you?", harmless in of themselves, but dropped in regularly to establish a casual mood, seem over-rehearsed and at worst, insincere.

That said, sounding natural in a tongue so different from your own is no mean feat. The Japanese language itself is made up of particles that set the tone of conversation, respectful language for your superiors, casual for your peers or subordinates. Even with my shaky grasp, I can see that it's an incredibly formulaic language, some "conversations" being nothing more than a repeated ritual. Erik, another ALT, has pointed out that during interviews for places at University, where, grades aside, personality would be the deciding factor, in Japan it's down to how well the applicant has memorised the procedure/ritual for presenting themselves. Perhaps all these factors, combined with the Japanese approach to tasks, is what creates the daunting mechanics of the English lesson.

This week, I've been working with the very model of a Japanese teacher. The man is a machine, probably fulfilling the dream of a chap that Matt & I met in Shinjuku, whose parting words to us were
"I want to be a walking dictionary."
For the sake of tact (and because I like him) this teacher will remain nameless. When I first met him, he impressed me with his detailed teaching plans, the pace with which they were executed and his quietly intense, but approachable classroom presence. Now he scares me a little bit. He's the quintessential Japanese workaholic, the product of a near automated education system. He looks like a well preserved forty-something. He is in fact my age.

In Pictures from the Water Trade, John David Morley's character decides to leave Japan, when after inadvertently bowing to someone on the phone, he feels that he is losing touch with himself. Whilst I'm a long way off doing that, I had such a moment in this teachers class last week.

On bad days, my job is that of a human tape recorder. The prescribed, correct way of speaking English requires a rising intonation at the end of a question, exaggerated in class in order to get this (not totally alien) point across. The problem is, a solid year of repeating pretty much the same questions has resulted in my delivering them like a command, in an attempt to actually get a response from the students. My rising intonation is imperceptible sometimes, thus when I'm demonstrating how to ask a question for the new first years, I find I can't do it, and concentrating only makes it worse or weird. Funny that the wonky cog in the English Engine should be the resident native speaker.

Christmas Kanji

As I've finished at my main school for the year, last week the First Graders made me a present of my name in Kanji...back in April I wrote about some of the crazy possibilities that such a venture would produce, "yellow asian pig" being a fine example. It's the "ton" in "kearton" which is the killer, as it's Chinese for "pig"...

...the Japanese have the most complicated system of writing in the world. When Buddhism was first introduced to Japan, the pilgrims brought along the Chinese ideograph system, which the Japanese chose to adopt, naturally keeping their original pronunciations as well as taking on the Chinese, hence the two pronunciations (and sometimes meanings) of kanji. The end result is that one sound will have several kanji and meanings.

My name rendered into the Japanese phonic alphabet is ku.ri.su ki.a.to.n. The diversity of kanji and meaning for "ku.ri.su" alone has me balking at the amount of typing I'd have to do...thankfully, to boot them into action, the students were in competition with each other, so I can just write down the winners.

There was tremendous scope for poetic names, but still plenty of room for randomness, as "Poem Benefit Bulb" (ku.ri.su) "Hope Vase Fly Cloud" (ki.a.to.n) demonstrates. "Long time Useful Wonderful" was very nice indeed, but my surname "Giraffe Relief Cloud" would raise one or two eyebrows in polite society. One class that didn't have enough time to hear all the kanji had me as the "Duke of Dark Chaos", for which I thank them, but the winners, in my opinion, gave me the name "Rouge Sky Blue Master" for ku.ri.su...my surname, with a few liberties taken with the verb form, is now my blogger ID...

Onomatopoeia? You must be barking

Convinced as I am that my mobile phone is a Satanic Contractual necessity, I tend to ignore it until the end of the day (except when the bastard wakes me up...and when I want to know what the weather is...or train times...whatever). The other week, a teacher from one of my schools was constantly trying to get in touch with me, but I was never noticing until it was far too late to call back. Finally, he got through to me, and whatever emergency that required my attention could be laid to rest...

...one of the students wanted to know how to spell "yuck"...

"Onomatopoeia" - The formation or use of words such as "buzz" or "murmur" that imitate the sounds associated with the objects or actions they refer to.

This formation is subjective depending on the way your culture hears these sounds. For example, dogs in Japan don`t say "Woof" - they say "Wan". This has come up in lessons once or twice, and I`ve been asked to demonstrate what the English dog utters. The result has me, temporarily driven mad by the sheer absurdity of it all, barking in front of forty-odd students.

Funnily enough, although it`s to be expected, I`ve been listening to local dogs recently...sounds more like "wan" every time...

There`s more besides - dogs seem to have the monopoly here, saying "kian kian" (when puppies), "gari gari" (when biting) and "paku paku" (when gnawing bones). That`s another interesting thing, if you consider the etymology of Pac Man (also, so I`ve heard, based on a Japanese {and Native American} folk tale about a massive head that rolls around eating stuff...but I`m having a hard time verifying that).

Ahem...cats say "nyaa nyaa" or goro goro (when purring); mice, "chu chu"; ducks, "ga ga"; pigs, "bu bu" (the Japanese for "pig" is "buta"); bees, "boon"; birds, "pi" or "piyoo" and frogs, "kero kero"

Interesting stuff, although I`ve yet to be convinced of the academic validity of the correct pronunciation of "woof".

For a pretty good list of animal noises around the world, why not check my source?