Writing it off as a cultural difference

The other night at dinner the waitress was asking Jeremie a question in regard to his meal. She kept repeating “suru udon, suru udon” over and over. We looked around the restaurant for anyone who could help us, i.e. possibly spoke English…to no avail, despite the fact that English education is mandatory up through high school, meaning the whole damn country speaks a little! For 3 minutes this lady does nothing but repeat the same thing over and over, in hopes that miraculously we’ll understand, that it will come to us like an epiphany or something. Does that EVER really work? She didn’t pantomime, use charades, or even attempt any other lame gesture to help us understand. Until finally my dinner of Sapporo (yummy...AND part of balanced diet) kicked in, and I shouted out, "pork noodles!" When did I learn Japanese? And more importantly, why did it take me 4 years to get it out? So as soon as I said this, or rather yelled, I was buzzing, she says, “Yes, yes, pork noodles.” Okay lady, so you DO fucking speak English…don’t lie to us here, speak English from the start. We spoke Japanese from the start, shoddy yes, but still Nihongo. I’m getting sick of writing everything off as a cultural difference.

Sept. 1 is the opening ceremony of the second half of the school year, and as the new Alt (assistant language teacher), I’m expected to give a brief introduction to the entire school in Japanese. Piece of cake…..oh wait, I DON’T SPEAK JAPANESE!!!!! I b.s.ed my way through a hello, my name is, I’m from routine to the first grade (our 7th grade) last week, the same day as they watched a video on the bombing of Hiroshima and ensuing radioactive, emotional and psychological damage that all Americans have caused . Thank god I didn’t tell them I was an American…….ooops! Yeah, that felt good. I like making little kids cry. I like it when people hate me because my relatives killed their relatives. Makes you feel special, you know. They look at me with their beady little eyes and curse me.