Actually Japan: Reading is Cool

It’s true, trusty blog readers; reading is cool. Take it from someone who has seen the other side.

The Japanese writing system is different from most languages in the sense that one can be familiar with a range of words, know the basic alphabet and understand how to put the two together, yet still not be able to read something as basic as a street sign. You see, the language has not one, not two, but three writing systems that are all utilized simultaneously in everyday life—hiragana, katakana and kanji. While it is certainly possible to write out any Japanese word using hiragana’s 46 syllabic-sound characters, things are not actually done so simply. Katakana—a system consisting of another 46 characters—is used exclusively to spell out words with foreign roots (ex: the word for “ice cream” is spelled in katakana and sounds like “aisukurimu”... Sound it out and say it out loud, and then you’ll understand). And then there’s kanji. This system—the real troublemaker of it all—is used to “abbreviate” things, per se.

But while I obvs find abbrevs a totes legit form of communication, kanji just does not have the same desired effect. You know those intricate pictures you see in Asian languages? ...the ones that have lots of lines and/or dots and somehow are known to mean a range of things—like “rain” or “happiness,” for instance? Well, that is (unfortunately for foreigners like me) kanji. As if the intricacy of these characters isn’t enough to cause confusion and/or cluelessness, there are just SO MANY of them. The exact number of kanji is up for debate, but it’s something like 50,000 I think. And how they are combined with one another changes the reading as well as the meaning. For example, each kanji has a kunyomi (Japanese reading) and an onyomi (Chinese reading); it’s the combination of other characters with which each is grouped that determines which reading is appropriate, and finally the overall meaning of the word.

Anyway, I’m getting a tad bit too in-depth here (point proven: kanji are extensive and complex), but now I believe you all have a good foundation to understand (and sympathize...not that I’m looking for sympathy, of course. But it’s always nice) that my lack of reading ability is really not a lack of effort and/or interest in learning. I do know hiragana and katakana, and I do read material written in these forms with hopes of stumbling upon familiar words and sentence structures, but the reality is that kanji replaces these writing systems in 99 percent of instances. And while I certainly can read, write and group some kanji, I do not know many at all in the big picture of things (aka the picture of the 50,000 kanji characters), which means it’s hard to get any idea about most of the messages written materials around here are trying to convey. When I don’t know the kanji, I don’t even have the option of “sounding out” the word and seeing if it rings some bell, somewhere.

But being the optimist I am (naturally), I recognize that some good has indeed come out of this situation. That is, from essentially not being able to read, I have noticed just how AWESOME the whole system really is. It’s not like I was ever against reading; it’s just I never had the opportunity to radically take it out of my life and therefore truly experience just how much I use—and depend on—it. I mean, everywhere I’ve been, I’ve always been able to somewhat read ...except when I was, like, really, really little I guess, but everything was done for me then anyway. These days, when I’m in a foreign country and there’s nobody to pick up the slack for me when I can’t differentiate a carton of skim milk from a carton of whole milk, things are a lot harder.

I wish I was kidding when I say I haven’t bought milk since I’ve been here because I don’t know which one to buy. But sadly I’m not. I really don’t know which is skim, and I would hate to waste calories accidentally drinking whole milk when I could be enjoying a box of these cute little koala crème- filled cookies we’ve come to worship here. (Just FYI, currently there’s a limited edition maple milk, aka “mepuru miruku,” flavor on the market, and it is utterly diviiiiine.) And the complications are beyond the dairy aisle. Really, the whole supermarket is a free-for-all. Here’s a fun game: Take a bunch of people who don’t really know how to cook, add a store of ingredients they deem odd-looking/unknown, and slap on labels that they can barely understand (save the generous pictures). Then, see what those foreigners stir up for dinner.

Even past food shopping and preparing, there are tons of other reading-dependent tasks and activities as well. I put off my laundry for an embarrassing length of time merely because I did not know which substance was a laundry detergent, let alone one that wouldn’t bleach and/or shrink my clothes (Don’t worry, my clothes have since been washed and have survived unscathed), and each form I fill out requires a level of assistance on which I'm not used to relying (Fortunately the university at which I’m studying purposely helps with these things, but it’s still weird/annoying to not be able to do it myself). Then there was the ultimate low at the train station, when two boys no older than nine helped us figure out our train route and accompanying fare. Such wise little ones.

The bottom line? I have gained a new perspective on how the illiterate must feel, and simultaneously how important literacy is. Everything is a million times harder without the ability to read ...I’ve realized I’ve taken for granted how much I automatically read and comprehend. As three friends here and I crowd around a pack of gum, slowly sounding out any hint of katakana and trying to pool together our varied kanji knowledge to merely figure out the flavor, it gets frustrating. Honestly, oftentimes we find ourselves just looking at the picture, even though this nine times out of ten results in an unsatisfactory purchase (No, although it may have sounded cool, even Japan does not have grape yogurt...That purple fruit on the container was a prune). Patience is a virtue that we do not always have.

Fortunately though, I’m of course still not really illiterate (obviously). I mean luckily for me, my ability to read and write English can help me get around my home country’s society or whatever, and luckily for you, my English literacy allows me to produce quality blog content that you can all comprehend...and enjoy at your leisure slash when I finally get around to updating (self fault noted). But even more entertaining at the moment is the fact that I am ironically able to appreciate a form of literacy in Japan in a way that most Japanese themselves do not—the very-prevalent attempts by the Japanese to use English on signs, clothes, notebooks, etc, which is widely referred to as “Engrish.” Yep, you may not know kanji (or hiragana and katakana, for that matter), but as English speakers, readers and writers, you’ll be able to chuckle at my favorite recent Engrish spottings, too.

The picture's a little blurry, but the cover of this notebook reads:

"This is the most comfortable notebook you have ever run into. You will feel like writing with it all the time."

Also a little blurry, unfortunately. Found this in the midst of meticulously searching for the perfect notebook. If this wasn't a binder and very overpriced, I definitely would have bought it because it pretty much voiced my thoughts verbatim.

"To begin with, let's be particular about our stationery so we can enjoy our campus life. I'm sure studying will be fun. But I feel happiest after school and on holiday."