My posts were really few and far between last month, but it's a new day and I guess I gotta get the update train a running again. This one's mostly for you Dana, though anyone else who has been foolish enough to attach this blog to their google reader (here's lookin at you Michael) can give 'er a look too.
Today's topic is the adult english conversation phenomenon. All over Japan you can find different establishments whose sole reason for existence is to cater to old people who want to come in and speak a little English with a foreigner. They come in all shapes in sizes. You've got your standard, somewhat formal English schools for adults, which seem to be fairly reputable and worthwhile for the people who come in to polish up their conversations abilities. You've also got your more informal "conversation groups," which equate to a few old people, one English speaker, one hour, and a lot of inane/unintelligible babbling. I've never done one of these before, but apparently the old people just like to tell people they've spoken English with a foreigner, while any fly on the wall at one of their meetings would have to disagree, and say they've spoken at a foreigner in Japanese about their cats or perhaps the local weather patterns. There are also these things called English Conversation Cafes that employ a resident foreigner or two to come in and chat with patrons. A lot like hostess bars, except for that the company you provide comes in exotic (culturally and linguistically, not sexually, though there probably are English Conversation Hostess Bars) flavors. Last time I was here I was propositioned by a man in a black van to work a couple hours a week at just such an English Conversation Cafe, and even though I am a little leery of the potential link between the mafia and english conversation in this country, I regret to this day passing that up that opportunity.
Which is probably why I was so ready to accept a similar invitation this time around. Granted, it came through more official channels(straight from the local Coordinator of International Relations), but I still felt like this was fate offering me a second chance. I said yes. To be fair, I don't have much else to do (the most entertainment I get on a standard weekday evening is watching strange people lift weights in skimpy clothing at the gym (there's one guy who I'm convinced is the gay ancestor of the Norse warrior Sigmund (look him up, then imagine him doing calf-raises in booty shorts), but nonetheless I was excited about this.
It's officially termed an "English Conversation Exchange," this thing I'm doing, and it certainly falls on the unofficial side of things. After I agreed to participate, Bonnie (the coordinator for international relations) gave these two men looking for a chat my information, and from there it was up to us to determine the where when and how of our exchanging. I wasn't sure exactly when to expect a call from these guys, but promptly a few days later I received a call from an unknown number that I was pretty sure was from my new Japanese friends. Well, actually I received about 4 calls within about a 20 minute period (I was working at the time and couldn't really answer my phone). I guess they were really excited to start the chatting. Well, later that day they called when I was actually able to talk (I believe I was sitting on my toilet at the time) and after a quick exchange of Japanese we made plans to meet the following week.
Well, the following week came up yesterday, and at a little before six I stepped out my apartment to go meet my new friends Gonda and Yoshida. Ten minutes later I found myself in a smoky little cafe, the three of us arrayed around a cozy corner table like participants in some strange Omiai without so much as a whiff of a bride. Plenty of cigarette smoke, and I guess we did discuss girls at some point, but, well now that I think about it I'm not exactly sure how it was like an Omiai (which is the first step in an arranged marriage where the dude comes to check out the chick and see if she's worthy of him) I just liked the idea of the metaphor, and it did seem a little homoerotic at first. Two older men take a young man out for coffee so that they can chat and get to know him a little better. Sounds like ancient Greece except for a little classier. Can you imagine Achilles taking Patroclus out for a cup of... what the fuck, did they drink anything except mead and wine those days? to discuss his hobbies and educational history? I can't either.
But back to the topic at hand. It was supposed to be "English" conversation exchange, but it Japanese was most certainly the main meal. I think there was about a 3 minute garnish of English thrown in there for coloring, but mostly it was Japanese all the way. Which is perfect, as far as I'm concerned. It was awesome. Sweet dudes, sweet practice, sweet everything. They asked me most of the awkward questions I had always been told I would be asked but never had been (which are more beautiful, American or Japanese girls (a stupid question for many reasons, one that I was able to manage with the eminently diplomatic response "well, there are pretty girls all over the world, but of course my girlfriend is the prettiest" (sappy blog shout-out to girlfriend count: 1)) how much money do you make? how much do you pay in rent (not that awkward I guess)? how many centimeter is your penis). Just kidding about that last one, but they did ask me (well after we had been through whether I was a butt or a breast man) if there were any hot teachers at my school, to which I replied, "go fuck yourself." Luckily they didn't catch that and the conversation proceeded without much of a hitch.
Whoo, yikes, I realize I'm trying to make up for a month hiatus with one massive post, but bear with me even though most of the good shit has already passed. But yeah, we really hit it off which was great. It's pretty impressive that you can have an hour and a half conversation with total strangers in a foreign language and it's not awkward or strange at all. All the credit to Japanese people on that account. I was trying to imagine my dad and his boss or somebody taking a 22 year-old Japanese guy out for coffe and conversation, and try as I might I just couldn't see it happening. I'm certainly not giving my dad enough credit here, for even though he probably couldn't hold up the Japanese end of the conversation as well as these guys held up the English end of ours, he's a great guy and could easily flow through such a conversation. But the fact is, we just don't do that kind of stuff in America, which is one of the really cool things about Japan. They're willing to take in random foreigners off the street and invite them to play volleyball with them on Wednesdays (I'm doing that with Gonda next week), which is crazy! I've also been invited out to drink sake with them and eat food at their respective homes, so shit I guess they liked me. Or maybe they just thought I smelled good.
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