Speaking Japanese
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These images have nothing to do with speaking Japanese but I hope they can convey what it's like to communicate with the Japanese, in Japanese.

Although this was my first trip to Japan, I had studied Japanese for three years from 1975-78 at Harvard Extension.  Prior to leaving on this trip I had tried to refresh my Japanese through tapes - I didn't find any that were as good as some I have used for German, however, and really didn't make much effort to resurrect my Japanese language skills.  I was pleasantly surprised not only by how much I could remember but most of all by how responsive the Japanese were to a foreigner speaking feeble Japanese.

In fact, as a direct result of this trip, I have started studying Japanese all over again at Harvard Extension.  You can see a description of the course I am taking HERE

I often reflect on how much time elapsed between my first studies in Japanese language and my first trip to Japan.  For example, Larry Bird's entire professional basketball career occurred after I studied Japanese and before I went to Japan. 

Cathy Davidson, in her great book, 36 Views of Mount Fuji, talks about many of the sensations I felt in attempting to speak Japanese.  There is something really magical, in a silly kind of way, about managing to communicate in Japanese.  The simplest conversations took on a kind of amazing, sacred quality, much as though I were establishing communications with Martians.  It is very much the same sensation as communicating in Morse code with Ham radio operators on the other side of the world used to be: there is not much content in the conversation but the fact that it happens at all is exciting.

At the Matsuya department store in Tokyo there was an old man selling a selection of Hagi pottery.  Having been to Hagi I of course recognized it, and asked, "kore wa Hagi desu ka?"  ("is this hagi?").  This led to what seemed like a long conversation about how pretty it was and how I had been to Hagi.  While I was having this magical experience, Tony tugged on my sleeve, asking me to leave because it was boring. This was one of the few occasions on the trip when I was really irritated by the company of an eleven-year-old boy, but what could I tell him, that I was immersed in this elementary Japanese dialogue?