Throughout my time in Japan I have discovered that many a foreigner residing in Japan, including myself, and knowing even a little bit of the language has the tendency of thinking he/she knows the language well and can speak it more fluently than they realize. They are proud of their ability, speak it with confidence, and are ready to use it as often as possible to impress the Japanese, especially Japanese women if they are male, and their non-speaking foreign friends while all the while not even realizing they are making basic mistakes. Maybe we become overconfident as the Japanese will usually lavish praise on any foreigner even speaking a few words in Japanese as they themselves have a difficult time with foreign languages.
Anyway, if you have lived a while in Japan, or know a little about Japanese food you know that an umeboshi is a salty, pickled Japanese apricot/plum. Foreigners know them as just plums. They are usually small, about the size of a gumball, pink or brown, and salty as all hell. Sometimes they are dried, like prunes, but still very salty. One can’t help but wince when they are tasted. The Japanese say that these pickled plums help to balance the alkalinity and ph of a person’s body. The more you wince the more your body’s ph is out of balance and some studies say this is true. Umeboshi are usually not on a menu in any restaurant, but can be bought in a store or made at home.
An oshibori is a moist, hot in the winter, cold in the summer, hand towel that is given to customers of a restaurant, bar, or snack so that they may clean off their hands and face before being served or after using the rest room. If you’ve lived in Japan you know they are a most welcome treat. You’ve probably received one if you visited a Japanese or Asian restaurant in your country or on the plane over.
The two words are not similar in sound but, to a person not very familiar with the Japanese language, it’s easy to mistake words when first learning and trying to use the language in public. This is one such story.
After I met Sachiko, I soon signed up for a Japanese course that was being offered on the base. I had been studying basic Japanese for several months and was grasping it quite quickly, or so I thought, as I had the advantage of practicing it with Sachiko and her family on the weekends. I stopped studying after basic Japanese 1 & 2 as I had only wanted to grasp the basics of speaking, reading, and writing and figured I could learn the rest in real life.
I was working at the Camp Zama Hospital at Sagami Ono station and late one night a few of us were sitting in my room listening to music and smoking. After a while we developed a bad case of the “munchies” and were deciding where to go to get something to eat. No one but me was in the mood for ramen again, but late at night that was about the only food available other than at a snack (A bar that serves food and allowed to remain open past the usual closing time of midnight) as all restaurants around the train station were usually closed by 9pm.
I remembered that, in my drives around the city, I noticed a Denny’s restaurant had recently opened up not far from the base. I mentioned this and everyone was fired up about getting some “real” food.
This was something new to Japan at the time: “Famuri Lestoran” – “Family Restaurants” they were called, and they started popping up in the mid ’70′s. Denny’s was one of the first and they were also the first full service restaurant open 24 hours a day in Japan. Here, one could get the bottomless cup of coffee for about 120 yen (about 36 cents) along with a hamburger or a western meal, or some curry rice or ramen. The bottomless cup of coffee was unheard of at the time in Japan and a cup of coffee at a coffee shop would set you back about 2-300 yen (about a buck, but still quite expensive at the time) and you were limited to only one, small cup.
Anyway, we drove the short distance from the base to the restaurant located out on route 16. We were greeted at the door by a woman who bowed to us and said, “Denizu eh yookosou. San mei sama desuka?” Welcome to Denny’s. Will there be three of you? she said as she held up three fingers up.
I answered, “Hai”, yes, while thinking sarcastically to myself, of course there’re three of us. Can’t you tell? I still had a lot to learn about Japanese culture and language.
Another man at the register, wearing a white shirt and black tie, also bowed and said, “Irasshaimase”, welcome. This was the manager. The cooks and the other two waitresses also yelled “irasshaimase” as we were led to our table. If we didn’t know we were in Japan we could swear we were back home in the states as the restaurant was an exact duplicate right down to the booths and menu.
“This is great,” we said as we sat down.
I could tell that the young woman was perplexed that three gaijin, foreign, men had entered the restaurant as she was quite nervous when placing the menus in front of us and, since this restaurant was so new, we were probably the first foreign customers.
After we were seated at the booth I watched her as she immediately went to the manager and said something. He, in turn, went over to the window behind the counter and said something to the cook. The cook then yelled “Eigo wakarimasuka”? Speak English? to someone we couldn’t see. I couldn’t tell if anyone answered. The manager then went over to the waitress, said something to her and she went around to the two other waitresses and spoke to them. By the back and forth nodding of their heads, I took it for granted that she was asking them if they spoke any English and, to her dismay, they were answering no or pretending they didn’t know any English as later on I came to learn that all Japanese study at least basic English at school.
We looked at the menu and made our decisions. It was quite easy as the menu was in both English and Japanese. We’d start off with coffee. We waited a few minutes and still no one came over to us. Our waitress was busy either politely ignoring us or probably hoping that we’d just leave or something or that someone else would serve us. I caught the manager’s eye and raised my hand indicating that we wanted some service. He called to the waitress, pointed in our direction, and she came over with her order book in hand.
I, being the “speaker” of Japanese, decided that I would put this waitress at ease by speaking Japanese. “Kohi san pai kudasai,” Three glasses of coffee please, I said to her not realizing that I had made a mistake here. I should’ve said, “Kohi mitsu kudasai”, three coffees.
She quickly wrote it down and my friends each ordered what they wanted by pointing to the picture, or saying it in English. Me, trying to impress my friends and this waitress, ordered in the Japanese accent.
“Boku wa cheezubaga to fulenchi fli kudasai,” I’ll have a cheeseburger and French fries I said, knowing this had to impress her. She gathered up the menus and brought us our coffee a few minutes later along with some silverware.
After a few minutes I noticed that we weren’t given the oshibori, the moist hand towels that all customers in a restaurant were given to clean their hands and face with. I knew they had them in this restaurant because I could see that others had them on their table. I caught the waitresses’ eye and, after she came over to the table, said confidently, “umeboshi kudasai,” please give me/us a pickled plum.
I was so sure of my language ability that I didn’t even realize that I had asked for a pickled plum instead of a hot towel!
“Umeboshi desuka?” you want a pickled plum? she said with a dumbfounded look on her face.
“Hai umeboshi kudasai. Mitsu.” Yes, pickled plums please. Three, I said in return while making a circular motion with my hand around the table indicating that I wanted one for all of us. And why do you look so confused? We’re customers also, even though we may be gaijin, I thought to myself.
You can see that I was a little sarcastic and defensive after being in Japan for almost a year and feeling a little of the prejudice and animosity sometimes aimed at gaijin, especially around a military base.
“Shoshomachi kudasai,” just a minute, she said with a little bow and went over to the manager.
My friends asked me what I was saying and I informed them that I was asking for the hot hand towels. They knew what I meant as they were familiar with the Japanese custom and agreed that they wanted them also. It hadn’t dawned on me that I was using the wrong word as I was very confident in my Japanese ability and “knew” perfectly well what I was saying.
After a minute or two our waitress returned and said, “Sumimasen, umeboshi wa nai’n desu”, I’m sorry, but we don’t have any pickled plums.
Now I was getting a little irritated as I could see that the other customers had, and were being given hand towels as they were seated.
“Umeboshi hoshII’N DESU,“ I WANT a pickled plum! I said, raising my voice a little as I spoke looking her in the eye.
Now she was really nervous and looked towards the manager. The manager came over and said something like, “Nan desuka?” What’s the matter?
I looked at him and said, “Umeboshi kudasai, umeboshi hoshii’n desu. Oneigaishimasu” please give us some pickled plums. We want pickled plums. Please do us the favor.
He in turn repeated that they couldn’t serve us any pickled plums as they didn’t have any.
What in the hell is he talking about? I thought to myself. I knew damn well they had the hot towels. I could see them. Is this a joke?
In my frustration, I put my hands up to my face and vigorously moved them up and down in the motion of washing my face, while saying in an irritated voice, “UMEBOSHI KUDASAI!” GIVE ME A PICKLED PLUM!
I then made the motion of rubbing my hands in one another, like I was washing them while saying again, “Umeboshi!” Pickled plum! My friends meanwhile were laughing at my actions.
At this point the waitress looked at the manager and said, “Ohshibori. Kare wa tabun oshibori hoshi’n desu.” Hand towel. Maybe he wants a hand towel.
The waitress then looked at me and said, “Oshibori desu ka?” A hand towel?
Upon hearing the word oshibori, I instantly realized my mistake. My face must’ve turned a hundred shades of red and I could feel myself starting to sweat. If I were a snake I probably would’ve slithered out the door as I was so embarrassed.
I looked at her and said in a soft voice, “Hai oshibori desu. Sumimasen.” Yes, a hand towel. Excuse me.
She said, “Hai,” and both she and the manager bowed and left. She returned a few seconds later with our three hand towels.
I relayed to my friends what I said and the mistake I made and we enjoyed our American food while laughing about that blunder on my part. However, that mistake stayed in my mind throughout the meal and it bothered me that I had made a fool out of myself.
I was humbled by that experience and never again arrogantly thought that I “knew it all” when it came to the Japanese language. Even after I became quite fluent later on, I was real careful of being overly confident in my ability and never took it for granted after that experience.
My friends never let me forget it either as they always kidded me about it throughout their tour.
Tips are not a custom in Japan, but I left the waitress a 500 yen tip and apologized to the manager when I paid the bill at the register. He just waved it off and said in English with a smile, “No Probrem.”
Looking back on it later, I really felt sorry for the waitress and the consternation I caused her by mistakenly using the incorrect word. She was professional through it all though, and I’m sure she still laughs today, as I do, when she recalls the gaijin that wanted to wash his face with pickled plums.
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