The last few weeks have been pretty dull, but Spring is finally in the air and with it, the cherry blossoms are starting to bloom. Hopefully I'll find a nice place to take some pictures soon.
In the meantime, I've started (yet) another website: http://easyjapanesey.blogspot.com/ -- this one is geared toward learning Japanese vocabulary.
Please don't comment on that site unless you are seriously studying the Japanese language.
Monday, March 26, 2007
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
Do not eat the processed cheese.
The other day I was teaching from the many pictures I took during my brief visit to the states. Scratch that. I taught from those pictures for a solid two weeks (and there are five students who have yet to ingest that lesson). I was pretty jet lagged when I returned, so I was grateful not to have to devote any mental energy (or any energy really) to my lessons. What's interesting to me is that though I often feel guilty straying from the standard methods of textbook driven language injections, the students seem to enjoy the book-less classes the most. And they're paying for the classes so you figure they want to learn, but perhaps learning English isn't so much a hobby as it is an hour or so of reasonably priced entertainment starring yours truly.
So anyway, the other day I was teaching a particular student from the many pictures I took, and she stumbled over the word burrito.
"Burrito," I said.
"Booreedo?" she asked.
"Burr-ee-toe," I said.
"Ehh... Boo... Booree... Booreetonee Spears?"
One of my most difficult tasks in school is assuring my students that they are hilarious and I'm not laughing myself a ruptured abdomen at their expense. Another native (non-student) had some trouble with a prostitute, that is to say, she couldn't say it. Instead, she would say, "Processed cheese." There's a stunning array of similarities between the two.
In my quest to speak Japanese, I am not without a few (thousand) stumbles, myself. The word for "ride" and the word for "drink" differ by a letter. Thus, I told my friend I would like to ride some hot chocolate. Thankfully, no metaphors translate as they might in English.
When I leave work at night, I turn left and walk home. Last week, one of my students asked me for drinks, but I was busy so we went yesterday instead. This particular student is in his 50s and could easily pass for a yakuza (mafia) boss. On this particular night, we turned right. To the right is the seedier part of town.
We visited two not-too-scandalous establishments and I went home none the worse for wear, save for a varied and spirited gathering in my liver, whisky making a rare appearance as the guest of honor. When I spoke to some of my students about my evening, they told me what else I might find out that-a-ways. For example, at certain kinds of clubs called kabakura (cabaret meets club), "You can touch them."
"Ehh? That's legal?"
"Yeah. No sex, but you can touch them."
Uh huh. And then there's Soapland. At Soapland, "They will wash you."
"What?!"
"If you go to the bathroom, they can wash you."
"I can wash myself, probably much more cheaply... just the cost of some water and soap."
"Yeah, but they're really good at it."
PS. Interview went well.
So anyway, the other day I was teaching a particular student from the many pictures I took, and she stumbled over the word burrito.
"Burrito," I said.
"Booreedo?" she asked.
"Burr-ee-toe," I said.
"Ehh... Boo... Booree... Booreetonee Spears?"
One of my most difficult tasks in school is assuring my students that they are hilarious and I'm not laughing myself a ruptured abdomen at their expense. Another native (non-student) had some trouble with a prostitute, that is to say, she couldn't say it. Instead, she would say, "Processed cheese." There's a stunning array of similarities between the two.
In my quest to speak Japanese, I am not without a few (thousand) stumbles, myself. The word for "ride" and the word for "drink" differ by a letter. Thus, I told my friend I would like to ride some hot chocolate. Thankfully, no metaphors translate as they might in English.
When I leave work at night, I turn left and walk home. Last week, one of my students asked me for drinks, but I was busy so we went yesterday instead. This particular student is in his 50s and could easily pass for a yakuza (mafia) boss. On this particular night, we turned right. To the right is the seedier part of town.
We visited two not-too-scandalous establishments and I went home none the worse for wear, save for a varied and spirited gathering in my liver, whisky making a rare appearance as the guest of honor. When I spoke to some of my students about my evening, they told me what else I might find out that-a-ways. For example, at certain kinds of clubs called kabakura (cabaret meets club), "You can touch them."
"Ehh? That's legal?"
"Yeah. No sex, but you can touch them."
Uh huh. And then there's Soapland. At Soapland, "They will wash you."
"What?!"
"If you go to the bathroom, they can wash you."
"I can wash myself, probably much more cheaply... just the cost of some water and soap."
"Yeah, but they're really good at it."
PS. Interview went well.
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