Grande Cafe Mocha, soy milk, hotto, no whip

You know how you can wander into a convenience store in Canada, pick up a Diet Coke and some licorice (ok, in Heather's world, maybe something practical like OJ for the rest of you), silently hand over your cash, and never actually engage in conversation with the person behind the counter? Well, it doesn't go down like that here in Japan.

There's an enormous amount of chattering that goes on during the simple interaction of procuring a Diet Coke. Of course, the chatter is completely one-sided, which makes it even more ridiculous, but simultaneously charming. Given I speak absolutely no Japanese, I amuse myself imagining what is being communicated. In my little universe it goes something like this:

Polite Salesperson: Welcome, beautiful lady to our most humble establishment. We sincerely hope that we may be of service, and that our products will be most pleasing to you.

Heather makes brief eye-contact, smiles awkwardly and scans the brightly lit aisles for the coveted Diet Coke. Ah, excellent. They stock Diet Coke, not the vile Coke Zero that leaves a nasty aftertaste. Subtle differences between similar toxins, but important nonetheless. She shuffles towards the front of the store and places the Diet Coke on the counter.

Polite Salesperson: Ah, I am pleased that you have found what you were seeking. Is there anything else we can offer you today, beautiful lady?

Heather smiles stupidly, and silently communicates her complete incompetence with the Japanese language.

Polite Salesperson: If you would be so kind as to pay us, the amount of 147 Yen would be pleasing to us, but only if it causes no inconvenience to you, most esteemed guest.

Heather looks at the price listed on the cash register, and hands over two hundred yen. 

Polite Salesperson: I am receiving two hundred yen from you, from which I will now give you change. The amount of 53 yen is the total of the change that I am giving to you. I hope the change is received in the spirit it is given, with the utmost respect and admiration. 

Heather slips the change in her pocket and moves towards the door, Diet Coke in hand.

Polite Salesperson: It has been most excellent serving you today, most beautiful lady. A thousand blessings on you, and we would be most pleased to serve you again, at your convenience.

So clearly, I do have an active imagination. But my friend Dave, who's lived in Tokyo long enough to be pretty much fluent in Japanese, told me the other day that the customer service policy in Japan is to treat the customer as if he/she is a god, so I think my translation could be reasonably accurate. And even if it isn't, my interpretation at least keeps me amused.

As with any language, obviously native speakers talk, well, fast. So despite my brief studies of the vocabulary section of my Lonely Planet guidebook, I recognize words only occasionally. Thank you in Japanese goes something like 'domo arigato'. Of course it sounds nothing like this when Japanese people say it - they string it together with a bunch of other words I don't know, and I end up being confused. So I mumble 'arigato' quietly as I depart, with an embarrassed smile, and beat it out of there as quickly as possible.

I had a major language victory last week in Kyoto on a minor hike up to a temple in the woods. As I started climbing up the path there were a bunch of senior citizens on their way down, and each said 'konichiwa' as they passed me, which I was excited to recognize as 'good afternoon'. Probably the only reason I recognized it was they were so winded from their climb they were talking slowly for once, but I was super excited, and replied with my own 'konichiwa'.

Equally exciting was my language lesson at Starbuck's the other morning. It adjoined a hotel lobby, and a few hotel restaurant staff members were in the lobby attempting to drum up business, and yelled something in Japanese to anyone who strolled through the lobby. It could have been 'cheap bacon', but I suspected something more basic. Looking up 'good morning' in my guidebook, I vaguely recognized 'ohayo gozaimas' as the phrase that was rapidly being delivered with disturbingly large smiles. I've tried to slip it into conversations a couple times, but I say it so slowly and butcher it so badly, it's embarrassing. 

I have 3 days left in Japan, and I don't think there's much chance I'll be improving my Japanese. But I've got ordering my cafe mocha down pat, and I have learned to take the victories where I find them, no matter how small. Ok, I confess, there is an English menu, but still...