DCとヒューストンのコミュニティ・ペーパー、『さくら新聞』でコラムを書かせていただくことになりました。「英語 de 敬語」という連載です。 いろいろな状況を想像したり、決まったテーマや文字数の中にどうやって自分らしさを出すか考えたり、とっても楽しいです。素晴らしい機会をいただけたご縁に感謝しています！ 8月24日に出た第一回の原稿は下記の通りです。
I now have a column in Sakura Shimbun, a Japanese community paper in DC and Houston. It’s about English phrases that can be used for business or other formal occasions. The first of the series is about self-introduction, and came out on August 24. I’m so grateful for this opportunity! The text is as follows.
英語の授業で頻繁に登場するフレーズ、My name is . . . は、実際には、事前登録した場（イベントの受付、予約していたレストランや診察室など）であったり、誰かが自分の名前を間違えたためそれを訂正するといった場合でない限り、面と向かって使うことはなかなかありません。Hi または丁寧な Hello の後に I’m . . . と続けて名乗りましょう。
Nice to meet you の後に続く日本語の鬼門フレーズ「よろしくお願いします」は、ビジネスの場では I look
forward to working with you が使えますが、それ以外では不要です。ビジネス以外の場面で筆者がこの日本語を訳さざるを得ない場合には、 I look forward to getting to know you などとしますが、本来は家族・友人の結婚相手や親友など、今後長く親密な付き合いとなる場合に使うフレーズです。
自分から知らない人にメールや電話をする場合には、My name is . . . が妥当です。メール上の「初めまして」には Nice to e-meet you などが使え、第三者が紹介した場合には、As mentioned by Shiori, I work at . . . といった形で、紹介者が使った内容を簡単に繰り返すことでより強く印象に残るかと思います。
ワシントンにおいて欠かせないのがネットワーキング。誰も知る人がいなくても、仕事やキャリアアップのため、イベントに参加しなくてはならないことがあります。レセプションにおいて重要なのが「スモールトーク」と言われる、ちょっとした会話です。ワシントンでよく聞かれるのが、生業を遠回しに聞いた What
do you do? というフレーズです。I’m a researcher specializing in . . . といった形で、職業を簡単に説明して返します。また、人の往来が激しい街ならではの言葉として、なぜワシントンに来たのかを聞く What brought you to DC? もあります。こちらはもう少し複雑で、I’m an exchange student at . . . や I’m here with my spouse, who . . . といった形で、来たきっかけも絡めて返します。
–Interpreting about shochu and remembering my grandfather
Mr. Hamada (right) speaking about Saigo Takamori (on the screen), the model for The Last Samurai
Last month, I had the chance to interpret another event with the Smithsonian, this time themed on Satsuma Shochu, a distilled drink (shochu) from Kagoshima prefecture. I was thrilled to be involved, since Kagoshima, the second most southern prefecture in Japan, has a very special place in my heart. But more on that later . . .
Satsuma, the land of the brave
The event featured five speakers, including restaurateurs (the founder of Daikaya restaurant, who I was starstruck to meet!) and beverage specialists who spoke about shochu, and Kagoshima natives who discussed the prefecture’s characteristics from various angles. I interpreted for Mr. Yuichiro Hamada, CEO of the Hamada Shuzo distillery and Chair of the Kagoshima Shochu Makers Association.
Audience members seemed enthused to learn about shochu, but Mr. Hamada made the topic even more accessible by talking about the movie The Last Samurai: the model of Katsumoto Moritsugu (played by Ken Watanabe) was Saigo Takamori, a renowned historical figure from Kagoshima. Mr. Hamada said that Saigo embodied the samurai spirit, bringing together warriors to oppose the new imperial Government of Japan by leading the Satsuma Rebellion (1877), the last civil war in Japan.
Even before this conflict, the Satsuma domain (as Kagoshima used to be called during the Edo period) had been unique. As a region, it recklessly went to war with Great Britain (1863). Mr. Hamada also talked about how, when Japan was closed off to any interaction with most countries, Satsuma disobeyed orders by sending several students to study abroad (1865) in London. In honor of this, one of Hamada Shuzo’s shochu brands is called “Kaido” (meaning “children of the sea”) and is in a red bottle–commemorating how, when the students embarked on their forbidden trip, no one could see them off at the port except for the red, setting sun.
The shochu “kaido” (in the red bottle) symbolizing the red sun
Shochu in practice
Mr. Hamada also talked about the culture of “daiyame”–a word that means to “stop being tired” in the Kagoshima dialect–and how people in Kagoshima get together to enjoy shochu with dinner and celebrate the end of the day. He also discussed his childhood growing up as a shochu maker, and the three distilleries his company owns. One of them is inside an old goldmine, and shochu made there uses a special kind of fungus called “gold koji” (koji are usually yellow, black or white). His staff uses the old mine carts to go back and forth in the long tunnel–and outside working hours, tourists are welcome to use those carts, too!
Creative takes on shochu
The list showcasing the local mixologists and chefs who presented shochu cocktails and dishes.
The following day, my friend and I attended a shochu-themed reception held in conjunction with the Smithsonian event. This reception, hosted by the Embassy of Japan, featured seven pairings of shochu cocktails and appetizers from bars and restaurants around DC. While I don’t usually drink, I couldn’t resist trying a pink shochu cocktail called “Cherry Blossom,” and a bottled yuzu shochu from Kagoshima. Both were so pretty and delicate, completely changing my view that shochu was a drink for older men. There are more than a dozen different kinds of shochu, including those using sweet potato, barley, and brown sugar, and I’ve heard that the tastes of those main ingredients really come through. So creating cocktails must be tricky–but this was just like a refreshing juice!
The light, gorgeous “cherry blossom” shochu cocktail
Memories of Kagoshima
Working with this event reminded me of my grandparents. When I was a child, my mother’s parents lived in Kagoshima City, and my father’s parents were in Sapporo. So whenever I visited Japan with my parents, we visited two completely different cities that were almost at the northern and southern ends of the country.
Hokkaido is beautiful, but lesser known Kagoshima is also very unique. The majestic volcano of Sakurajima, a symbol of the prefecture, is active and often spewing ash, which falls in whatever direction the wind blows. When I was a child, the ashes rained on Kagoshima City in the summer. When I once attended a local school in June and July (summer break begins later than in the U.S., so a lot of parents send their children to Japan during that time), my classmates and I were gray from head to toe, the ash sticking to our sweaty limbs as we ran around.
The majestic Sakurajima
My grandfather was in Kagoshima because he was the head of Kagoshima Bank. He was allocated a big house that had three bathrooms, a long hallway in which he liked to practice putting, and various treasures (including books, a huge tortoise shell that hung on the wall, and beautiful golden clocks with pendulums). He bought laser discs (which were cutting edge at the time), including several for me to watch when I visited, including The Dark Crystal and animated films.
And he loved to drink. My image of him will always be of him watching baseball with a glass of beer. But he also worked very hard. As a young man from Tokyo, he got into the top school at the time and entered the Bank of Japan. (I was horrified to hear from my mother later on that, the very day he was accepted at the Bank, his father said, “now we’re set for life” and actually quit his own day job!)
My mother notes that my grandfather worked so much because he wanted to give my grandmother the life she deserved. He dreamed of retiring and traveling with her. My grandmother had lived with and taken care of my grandfather’s parents, and raised three children (who added to her work by constantly adopting new pets from the streets!).
But he passed away before he could retire. I still remember when I was five years old, when he lifted his shirt and showed me the stitches on his stomach. He was beaming, proud of having survived cancer. But his illness came back, and he passed the following year. (I wrote a story about this in college.)
Even though my grandmother was originally from Tokyo, she continued to live in Kagoshima after that. She moved to a small apartment and continued to cook for herself, including laborious ceremonial dishes on New Year’s Day, and always served my grandfather at the butsudan (Buddhist altar) before taking her first bite. Whenever my mother visited Kagoshima with the intention to help, my grandmother insisted on hosting her as a guest, and they often argued on who should look after whom. For decades she remained active in her community, from golfing to chorus, to playing mahjong with friends. But she’s in her 90s now. Having survived a few cancers herself and lost some of her friends, she moved back to Tokyo a few months ago, to be closer to my mother and my uncle.
Now I have no family in Kagoshima. When my grandfather passed, he became someone that I could only recall from childhood memories and my mother’s stories. But now, more recent moments from Kagoshima–like Sakurajima’s ashes when we visited my grandmother in the summer, the local sweets that she continued to send to me over the years, as well as the stubborn but kind spirit of the local people–have also become bittersweet memories.
Those memories came rushing back to me with this Satsuma Shochu event. One speaker talked about the melancholic beauty of the ashes falling from Sakurajima, and it was wonderful and heartbreaking at the same time. Many see the ashes as a nuisance, and I didn’t know anyone else who thought they were pretty! Having been reminded of the history of the prefecture, I also felt proud to be connected to such a unique place. And when I told my mother about Mr. Hamada’s speech, she said that my grandfather enjoyed “daiyame,” and that he would’ve been thrilled to know that I was involved with this event.
A few weeks ago, I received a letter of thanks from Mr. Hamada. I was so touched that he took the time to write. And I realized that thanks to this job, I now know someone in Kagoshima again. I hope to one day ride those mine carts in his distillery and create new memories. Like those shochu cocktails, perhaps I can add some new lighthearted experiences to those strong memories of my youth, creating a swirl of unforgettable impressions of Kagoshima.
With the speakers of the event. Many, many thanks to the Embassy of Japan, Happi Enterprises and Daikaya for this opportunity!
Heterosexual (top) and LGBT (bottom two) pedestrian lights in Vienna (June 2019)
When I was in Vienna, Austria from the end of May to early June, I fell in love with their adorable pedestrian lights! First I found a cute heterosexual couple–and was even more delighted to see the couple of two men (although from a distance it also looks like friendly strangling :p) and two women (hearts beating in unison). At first I thought the lights were related to Pride Month–but it turns out that they were a temporary project in 2015 that soon became a permanent fixture!
I love anything related to symbols and tiny illustrations (my master’s thesis was on pictograms) so I wanted to take this opportunity to write further about pedestrian lights.
Diversity in signage
Signage like these are extremely important, I think. We talk a lot about diversity in literature, media representation, and political office. But these simplified little guys, gals (and non-binary figures!) are everywhere–and while they are subtle, they’re seared into our unconscious mind. I still remember that time I first saw a non-binary bathroom sign years ago, and while I was initially confused–why is her skirt titled?, I thought–learning about it made me appreciate the design.
Germany
Austria’s neighbor, Germany, is even more famous for its pedestrian lights. The beloved Ampelmann figure with the hat, originally used in East Germany, has remained even after the unification of the country, and is now an icon of Berlin. The website of a store that sells Ampelmann products explains the history of how the lights came to be: they were first designed by a traffic psychologist in 1961; and after the fall of the Berlin Wall, when everything in the former East Germany was being torn down, another designer helped save the unique little men. (The latter designer, Markus Heckhausen, now runs the company to which the above stores belong.)
The “stop” Ampelmann in Hackescher Markt, Berlin. I love the straight lines in this photo, as well as the contrast of the walking pedestrians and the stop sign (June 2018)
The United States
When I visited Berlin in 2011, I came across a very cool exhibit on pedestrian lights around the world. They had actual lights that periodically switched between green and red, with descriptions underneath. What struck me was that the U.S. had two lights: one with “Walk/Don’t Walk” spelled out, and another with a red hand and a white man. While I don’t read German, I think the signage says “Walk/Don’t Walk” was used in Los Angeles and the other in New York, but I’m pretty sure the “Walk/Don’t Walk” is actually the one that was in New York. As a child growing up in Hawaii, I remember being confused how the lights I saw on “Sesame Street” were so different from the LA-type lights around my house. Now those are gone from NY, too, apparently replaced by the other type in 2004. While I completely agree with the importance of universal pictograms, it’s sad that the iconic lights of letters have disappeared.
Lights from around the world were displayed at a pedestrian lights exhibit in Berlin (December 2011)
When I first moved to DC in 2004, I was really impressed by the countdown of the pedestrian lights. They are so useful, especially in crossing wider roads. Apparently that was brand new back then (just started in 2003), and has now been implemented in other cities, too.
Pedestrian lights in San Francisco (it’s just a coincidence that Uniqlo happened to be in photos of both Berlin and SF!) (April 2015)
Japan
I have always been bothered by how green traffic and pedestrian lights in Japan are called ao (blue). (It’s not unique to lights, as green apples or green nori are also called ao–apparently that word traditionally referred to both blue and green). As a precocious nine year old who moved to Tokyo from Hawaii for the first time, I purposely made a point to call the lights midori (green). I also sometimes felt like the lights looked blue-green–and sure enough, apparently there has been an effort to make the lights more blue, in order to match the terminology. How interesting–I’m sure this is a rare phenomenon even among the many different lights around the world.
Pedestrian lights in Tokyo (September 2015)
Let’s go!
Traffic lights, especially the “go” version of it, are so symbolic (literally) in encouraging us to proceed forward, like wind in our sails. I’m guessing that green Ampelmännchen products are much more popular than the red ones. I love how sometimes the “pedestrian” figures are on bikes or horses. But usually, the figures are all by themselves, regardless of whether they are going or stopping. What I love about the Vienna ones are that they are not alone. (Well, upon closer inspection, the heterosexual couple one I saw looks a bit like the woman is running away from the man who’s grabbing her (ummm…) but that’s another story.) This journey called life, whether we decide to go or stop, is much more fun with company–opposite gender or not.
‘Go’ Ampelmann symbol at the Ampelmann cafe in Berlin (December 2011)
–A talk with DC public school students studying Japanese
Despite my oral presentation with no visuals, the students were engaged and asked lots of questions!
In mid-May, I had the honor of speaking to Washington, DC public high school students studying Japanese. These students, representing about 10 schools across DC, voluntarily gather twice a week for classes called “Japanese Plus.” Their passion for Japanese is amazing. They don’t just take the time to attend classes in the evenings and weekends, working on assignments on top of their busy high school schedule. They also maintain a blog where they write about what they learned and other Japan-related activities, and give final presentations at the end of the year. They are really talented students, too, and many of them have won various awards!
Globalize DC
Bell High School in Columbia Heights, where the students gather twice a week
This opportunity came to me through Ms. Sally Schwartz at Globalize DC, a nonprofit organization that my workplace, the U.S.-Japan Council (USJC), frequently collaborates with. We work with Globalize DC on a exchange program called the TOMODACHI U.S.-Japan Youth Exchange Program, which brings together DC public high school students and students from Keio Shonan Fujisawa High School in Kanagawa, Japan. The American and Japanese students travel to the Tohoku region and explore DC together, engaging with local residents and experiencing local culture (like helping at a soup kitchen or taking part in a slam poetry workshop in DC, or visiting fishers and hearing the impact of the Great East Japan Earthquake in Tohoku). After traveling and learning together for a month, the students really bond with each other.
Sally told us that Globalize DC hadn’t been engaged with Japan until we partnered with them in 2013. Following the success of the program, Globalize DC’s Japan programs expanded. Japanese Plus was started in 2016, and includes many TOMODACHI alumni. Sally is now such a prominent figure in Japan-related education that all of us in the Japan circle in DC know and love her!
On interpreting
Sally told me that many of the students are interested in pursuing interpreting as a career, and kindly invited me to talk to the students. I spoke about basic concepts like the difference between consecutive and simultaneous interpretation, and the notion that you can’t be a perfectionist, especially when simultaneously listening and speaking. I also talked about how lucky I am to be a freelance interpreter while also working at USJC.
One of the questions I received was whether I intend to become a polyglot. (I was impressed they knew that word to begin with!) So many were learning multiple languages: one was also studying Chinese and Korean, while another was a native Spanish speaker studying Russian. Others asked the best way to become better Japanese speakers, and I explained that most U.S.-born Japanese language interpreters I know spent many years studying or working in Japan, such as with the JET Programme.
Japanese language education
Students learn grammar and vocabulary from their teacher, Ms. Eshita.
I also learned that day that Japanese language teachers are very much in demand right now. I was worried last year when I heard that introductory courses in Japanese language education were in danger of being eliminated in Arlington, Virginia–but was so relieved to hear that Arlington officials decided to keep them (I understand that Japanese language students were the ones who changed their mind, by starting a change.org petition and appealing to officials).
Japanese language apparently remains popular due to manga, anime and other cultural assets, and I hope this trend continues. It is thanks to people like Sally, as well as the Japanese Plus teacher Ms. Eshita, that students continue to have the opportunity to learn. These are our future diplomats, business people, advocates, and artists who will continue to connect the U.S. and Japan. I look forward to meeting them again in the future, and seeing what role they chose!
With the students and Ms. Eshita. What a fun experience!
Ms. Fujikasa’s “Seraphim” at the Walters Art Museum
At the end of April, I interpreted for a talk at the Walters Art Museum in Baltimore. Ms. Satoko Fujikasa, an artist who creates sculptural forms with ceramic (and whose piece, “Seraphim,” is at the museum), presented at a special event for museum sponsors. Her work is in between pottery and sculptures, and defies categorization. I think it’s absolutely beautiful, especially how the ceramic material seems so light, aerial and elegant, defying gravity, even though clay is dense and heavy.
Ms. Fujikasa’s talk
In her talk, Ms. Fujikasa shared how, even though she was a ceramics student in college, she wasn’t quite satisfied making regular bowls, plates, and vessels. She found her calling when she saw a photo of the Antelope Canyon, and felt compelled to recreate its beautiful curves. She shared how she tried many different techniques until she found that coiling was the best one, and that she meticulously builds the forms from the bottom up.
Ms. Fujikasa is such a sweet and humble person, which is especially inspiring for someone who found success at such a young age. So many staff members at the museum came up to her and said that hers was their favorite work. Prior to the talk, the Deputy Director of Art (who was in charge of the museum’s Asian art collection) gave a tour of the museum and showed Ms. Fujikasa how Seraphim is displayed. She had placed it in a room by itself, set up in a lit glass case against a black wall, and surrounded by a semi-circular sofa for visitors to sit down and admire at length. Ms. Fujikasa seemed incredibly touched that her work received so much care and attention, and said that she was ready to cry. As an interpreter, I always feel very lucky to have the chance to meet artists and hear the thoughts behind their work. In this case, seeing the artist interacting with curators was even more special. The Deputy Director of Art said that she initially worried that she might not know which angle to display Seraphim in–but that once she saw it, she was pleasantly surprised to find what seemed to be the front. She asked Ms. Fujikasa if her interpretation of the “front” was correct, and seemed overjoyed when Ms. Fujikasa gave an appreciative yes. It was so cool to see this moment, when art professionals connect beyond differences in nationality and language. Seeing Ms. Fujikasa’s warm personality, it was no wonder that those around her (her husband, also an artist, helped her throughout the event and was her official photographer) were also kind.
The conversations between Ms. Fujikasa and the sponsors of the museum, some of whom had bought “Seraphim” and gifted it to the museum, were also fascinating. They were so knowledgeable about Japanese art, both in terms of artists and various movements. One of the sponsors asked Ms. Fujikasa if she’s better known in Japan or overseas, and that it was rare to see an artist succeed straight out of school in Japan. Ms. Fujikasa agreed that she is very fortunate that her work is popular overseas, and that especially in the ceramics world in Japan, traditional pieces made by experienced masters are more valued.
The beautiful ceiling at the Walters Art Museum, just a few steps from where Seraphim is displayed
Finding your niche
On a personal note, I love how she kept trying different methods until she found her calling. I have so many different interests in writing, interpretation, communications and more, that I worry if I’m too fickle or scatterbrained. I know that trial and error is the only way to find what combinations are the best fit, but I often end up comparing myself to others, feeling bad that I’m still looking for my niche.
I also spend a lot of time sitting at my desk, looking things up on the internet and assuming that success is difficult to achieve (e.g. “how could I make a living, considering so few people make it?”). Which is not only silly but dangerous, because I get discouraged and end up doing nothing. Ms. Fujikasa’s talk showed that taking action and questioning the status quo are important first steps. She asked to take sculpture classes even as a Ceramics major, and asked her professor if she could work on her passion project instead of given assignments. It’s motivated me to do the same. I plan to try more, ask more, and do more–and move forward, one step at a time.
The view from inside the booth, with Ambassador Sugiyama at the podium (I quickly took this photo when it wasn’t my turn!)
Last month, I had the opportunity to interpret at the Sasakawa Peace Foundation USA’s Security Forum. This is a big annual event that I’d attended in the past, and I was honored to be in the booth this time! This year’s forum was very timely, coming on the heels of the 2+2 talks (discussions among the U.S. Secretary of Defense and Secretary of State, and the Japanese Defense Minister and Foreign Minister). The forum looked at all angles of security, including CPTPP (TPP11) and American and Japanese policy in the Indo-Pacific; last December’s updates to Japan’s National Defense Policy Guidelines; the changing role of the Japan Self-Defense Forces; North Korea; and territorial disputes in the East China Sea and the South China Sea.
I did my best to study materials that I knew would be a part of the discussion–it was basically like an intense all-day exam. But there were topics that I wish I’d thought to review ahead of time. For example, in discussing China, an audience member brought up the concentration camps in Xinjiang; another speaker shared his thoughts on Huawei’s 5G technology and entry into the British market. I need to be much more diligent about consuming news in both languages on a daily basis! This also made me realize that China is considered a threat in every aspect: economy, technology, security, and in challenging universal human rights.
I also interpreted for a brief talk between SPFUSA staff with some of the speakers. This was held at the gorgeous Metropolitan Club. This was my first time there, but I absolutely fell in love with its library. My favorite was the glowing globe (I have a weak spot for anything that glows), which I vowed to own one day in a big, lovely library 🙂 Perhaps because it was cherry blossom season, the library had a small exhibit on Japan, which made the experience all the more special! This special day, interpreting for top scholars and experts on security and East Asian relations, followed by the chance to work in a beautiful building, reminded me how lucky I am to be in DC.
–Sake brewers and experts who are finding a global audience
The stage at the beautiful Baltimore Museum of Art, prior to the event
Last month, I had the opportunity to interpret for sake events that were held at the Freer|Sackler Gallery and the Baltimore Museum of Art. A friend, who was emceeing the events, kindly recommended me as the interpreter. While the interpretation itself was very short, I learned a lot from this experience.
These events, hosted by the Embassy of Japan, were a screening of the documentary Kampai! For the Love of Sake followed by a sake tasting. The two events, held on two consecutive days, were very similar except that they were geared towards audiences in different cities.
The film
The film follows three trailblazers in the sake industry. One is a British citizen who, upon moving to Japan, becomes so enamored with sake that he joins a sake brewery, becoming a master brewer who creates so many new types of sake that his boss stops him from coming up with new ideas. Another is an American citizen who, also falling in love with sake after moving to Japan, becomes a “sake evangelist” who promotes sake in English to a global audience by publishing several books, teaching courses, and giving lectures worldwide. Another is a fifth-generation sake brewer who has brought new techniques to his family business, and promotes his sake by traveling abroad or using new methods like social media.
Each person broke barriers, and it is pleasantly surprising that such a traditional field is welcoming innovation and globalization. It is no doubt a testament to the strength and talent of these three individuals, as well as the foresight and kindness of those around them.
Mr. Kuji
Mr. Kuji captivating the audience (Photo courtesy of the Embassy of Japan Twitter)
Mr. Kosuke Kuji, President of Nanbu Bijin Brewery in Iwate Prefecture, the fifth-generation sake brewer featured in the documentary, came to DC and Baltimore to promote the film.
His backstory is particularly compelling. During the film, he talks about how sake brewing was traditionally left to toji, or the master sake brewer, and that the head of the breweries were in charge of promotion and representing the company. But through Mr. Kuji’s own conviction, as well as a generational change among staff, he was able to bring in new ideas that he learned in agricultural college. Determined to bring his sake to a worldwide audience, he traveled to New York and visited sake pubs one by one, convincing them to try his sake. When the Great East Japan Earthquake struck in 2011, and people abstained from alcohol because of the mourning and somber mood following the disaster, Mr. Kuji took to social media to appeal to the public that consuming goods from the Tohoku region was in fact more helpful to support the local residents.
After each film screening, Mr. Kuji gave a brief speech, setting the stage for the sake tasting. It was this speech that I had the opportunity to interpret.
Mr. Kuji already seemed affable on screen, but in person, his warmth, sense of service, and hospitality came through even more clearly. I was worried about the technical vocabulary related to sake, including the process of rice milling, fermentation, etc., but when he and I met to prep before the event, he quickly assured me (even without me asking him) that he’d keep his speech simple. I was so relieved to hear that!
On stage, he said that he appeared in this film with the hopes of introducing sake to a wide audience. He mixed in a few lines in English and made everyone laugh. He enticed those in the auditorium to try his sake with a “virtual kampai,” and described in detail the aroma that would be wafting from a sake cup filled to the brim.
During the sake tasting, he stayed at the Nanbu Bijin (which was one of four sakes from around Japan being promoted at this event) booth for a while, answering questions. And for the duration of what must have felt like a long evening, he stayed at a social media photo booth with sake-related props, joking that he is now a movie star, and continuously welcoming those who wanted to take photos.
The sake-themed social media booth
Innovation in a traditional field
What I learned from this experience wasn’t simply vocabulary related to sake. I enjoyed the film because it is so much about bringing new ideas to a very traditional field. It is refreshing that younger people, as well as non-Japanese citizens, are doing that. (The American citizen and the British citizen in the film were both of the first participants of the JET Programme, so it’s also a nice promotion of this great program.) I was doubly excited to hear from Mr. Kuji that Kampai! For the Love of Sake 2, which has recently come out in Japan, focuses on women brewers (women were traditionally forbidden from even entering the brewery).
And I’m sure that the global popularity of sake will help spur further innovation. The sake event at the Freer|Sackler required no prior registration, but I heard that around 50 people had to be turned away due to the capacity of the auditorium where the film was shown. Some of them stayed nearby until the film was over just to join the tasting, which was held in the hallways surrounding Freer’s courtyard.
I learned a lot from Mr. Kuji, with his optimism and upbeat demeanor, as well as belief in his family business as well as in sake. It was an honor to meet him, and I’m glad I had the opportunity to be involved in this event!
Interpreting in a booth at the University of Pennsylvania, 2017
A few weeks ago, I went to the Embassy of Japan to talk about interpretation. This was a really meaningful occasion for me. The way I first got into interpretation was through my first job out of college, when I worked at the Japan Information & Culture Center: the cultural arm of the Embassy that holds exhibits, lectures, events, etc. for the public. I had some very kind bosses that encouraged me to interpret for artists who spoke at our center. I enjoyed it so much that I’ve been continuing to interpret ever since!
On this day, I was at the Embassy to talk to young diplomats who were undergoing interpretation training. While the Japanese Ministry of Foreign Affairs (MOFA) does hire external interpreters for some events, for formal occasions that include summits or ministerial meetings, they often employ their own diplomats. This is because diplomats have a greater understanding of the Government of Japan’s official position, as well as knowledge of exact vocabulary that must be used for negotiations and other discussions.
My understanding is that the Embassy conducts training sessions every winter. Diplomats attend sessions for four weekends, including those who work at Consulate-Generals outside of DC or attend graduate school in other regions. The diplomats already work around the clock on a wide range of subjects, from economics to politics, so I admire them for participating in weekend training sessions, too! Professional interpreters serve as instructors for the training–and since those instructors happened to know me, they kindly gave me the opportunity to serve as one of two guest speakers.
During most of the training, the diplomats practiced with videos. Us guest speakers were helping with a culminating project during the last weekend of the training, serving as live speakers that they interpreted. We were asked to talk about our own background and our career (first as individuals, and then in a dialogue). I spoke in Japanese, and the other person in English. With the dialogue portion, we were asked to go along with what’s interpreted, pretending not to understand the other language.
This was the second year I’ve had the chance to participate. The other speaker last year was an interpreter who I really admire. He’s very committed to the craft and language. I once went on a business trip with him and was surprised to see him carrying huge stacks of newspapers (he reads them cover to cover everyday). When I had the fortune of attending a get-together he hosted at his home, I saw that his bookshelves were filled with what seemed like hundreds of books in both languages!
Live Television & Simultaneous Interpretation: A Comparison
This year, the other speaker was someone who works at a major media outlet. He works on graphics on the television screen, including banners, lower-thirds that show the identity of the speaker, and over-the-shoulder graphics placed above the shoulder of news presenters. Until I heard his story, I hadn’t thought about how stressful it must be to call up and then take away graphics on live television. Working in communications and having gone to journalism school, I was fascinated by his talk.
We looked at the commonality of interpretation (especially simultaneous) and live television. He was kind enough to say that he thought interpretation sounds more stressful. But luckily, that hasn’t been the case with what I’ve done so far! When we’re stuck with words that we’re not used to interpreting, our partner(s) often help us by writing down the translation or looking it up for us. Because we take turns, we also learn from each other’s interpretations. I’ve also only worked with a small number of people, at most a lecture hall with less than 100 people–but millions watch everything he does on TV.
I asked him how he practices, when they probably don’t have any time to rehearse. At the nonprofit organization where I work, whenever we hold large-scale events, we do tech checks and rehearsals (albeit just hours prior to the real thing, because speakers who travel from afar are only available that day). It was hard to imagine such a stressful situation where no one is able to practice ahead of time. But he said he receives a rundown of the show, and that he’s gotten so used to the rhythm that he’s able to enjoy the movements like DDR (Dance Dance Revolution). He also said that he practices during breaks. He demonstrated on the table between us, his fingers flying as if he’s playing the piano.
Not DDR, but Taiko no Tatsujin, where players hit the drums in time with the music (at a Japanese New Year’s Festival , 2015)
He asked how we practice interpreting, and I said that we sometimes receive scripts of speeches, or have the opportunity to discuss with the speaker ahead of time. We also study their biographies, and read articles about them or materials written by them. It’s very much like studying for an exam. But I think it’s also important to look for videos of interviews and/or speeches, which show that person’s speaking habits, including speed, accents, and other patterns. It’s very tricky to interpret for someone who speaks in long-winded run-on phrases without completing sentences!
I asked about how corrections are made when there’s a mistake. He said that his organization is very strict about errors. They tend to be more forgiving of experienced personnel, because they must have a very good reason for it, but there have been new, temporary workers who made mistakes and were never called back again. Errors are corrected on air immediately by the news presenter.
This led me to ask about the recent Covington incident. The sad and scary thing was that, even after the longer video came out, people extracted different information from it. He said that with the 24-hour news cycle, media are under so much pressure to be the one to break the news that they have difficulty analyzing all aspects of the story. He also expressed his hope that after this incident, the media would be more careful about reporting.
Coming Full Circle
For me, speaking at this training meant that things had come full circle. I had heard about this interpretation training when I was working at the Embassy more than ten years ago. Since I often interpreted for events, I asked one of my bosses if I could join, even though I was local staff. He hesitated, but I pressed on, and he kindly agreed to bring it up at a meeting among diplomats. The answer was no. I was disappointed, but what made me even sadder was that one of the diplomats who was taking the lessons later chastised me for making my boss look bad.
My bosses really helped foster my passion for interpreting. After I got a certification in interpreting, they encouraged me to take time off as local staff, so that they could re-hire me during working hours as a local interpreter. When the Embassy held a reception welcoming the Heisei Nakamura-za kabuki troupe, and everyone in the troupe was assigned a diplomat to personally interpret for them, I was given the chance to interpret for the main actor, Kanzaburo Nakamura.
And yet, that young diplomat’s words had always remained in my mind–especially because I never meant to hurt the reputation of my boss, who had been so kind to me. So it meant a lot that I was able to witness the training years later, and share stories of interpreting adventures that I’ve had the chance to experience since then.
I really appreciated having this opportunity, and hope I’ll have the chance to participate again next year!
It takes a lot of courage putting out something that’s flawed. But I hope that this blog would help me become better at writing on a regular basis, rather than wasting time seeking perfection.
Facing the childhood dream
I’ve wanted to be an author (I knew that word before “writer”) since I was a child, and that dream has lived within me for decades.
I enjoyed writing stories in elementary school, and thought I was doing pretty well. In middle school, when students met one-on-one with their teachers to talk about their career goals, I brazenly said that I would be an author. “But what about your income?” my teacher asked. “It’ll be ok; I’ll write bestsellers,” I replied. (This makes me cringe every time I think back to it.)
But over time, I lost confidence as I saw true talent in others. I pursued creative writing through numerous classes in school, online, and in the community–science fiction, mystery, foodwriting, magazine writing, memoirs–but I’ve been thoroughly disappointed with what I put out. My talented classmates captured moments in photographic detail, and portrayed emotions in ways that I never could. I was still stuck in my flat elementary school stories, while others’ narratives were rich and compelling.
I once went up to one of my high school creative writing teachers, who kept giving me B+ grades. I asked what made my stories “B” level, in hopes that she would provide guidance on how to improve. She ruminated for a few minutes as I stood by her desk, and said that she couldn’t explain it. It was disappointing knowing that she wasn’t the kind of teacher I needed. And after that, she began to grade all my stories with A-s. They were the saddest A-s I’ve ever gotten, inflated for no good reason.
I also remember one of my college creative writing classes, when we reviewed stories anonymously among classmates. One of my stories came back with ugly letters scrawled at the top of the front page, “I can’t believe you want to be a writer.” It was a rude awakening. I guessed without logic who the culprit was, and secretly hated that classmate for it (it may not have been him, in which case I feel bad!). And in a masochistic way, I kept that story for years, putting it out of sight, but shuddering every time I found it as I cleaned my belongings.
As I prepared to graduate college, I began to think that writing fiction was an unrealistic career for me, and started to pursue journalism and communications instead. I went to graduate school in journalism and enjoyed interviewing experts on subjects that I would never know about otherwise. I also worked as a communications professional–and have been in that field for more than a decade now. I enjoy writing on behalf of someone. There’s a lot of fun in imagining how others think and what messages would be most effective. I’ve gotten good at finding links between concepts that are seemingly unrelated (transitions in long speeches), explaining complicated matters succinctly (press releases), or trying to persuade others (event invitations). I think I’ve gotten the hang of writing when I can hide behind brands. But with every year that passes, I think back to that childhood dream, and wonder if I’ll live my life never having pursued it.
As a minority
Writing about deeply personal issues or putting out fictional stories feels like I’m exposing myself. I’m afraid of releasing my words into the wilderness–where they could be judged, misconstrued, or just plain ignored.
In hindsight, I know why my stories have been weak. The characters were fake. As an ethnic minority, I didn’t think characters like me would appeal to others. I kept creating what I thought were quintessential Caucasian American characters that I saw in the movies. They had monosyllabic names that were easy to read. They ate cereal, toast, and spaghetti with meatballs. They were mere paper dolls, defined by their situation and what happened to them rather than what they did, and had little personality. They were generic in an attempt to appeal to everyone–and ended up being memorable to no one.
Shadow puppets at the Crocker Art Museum in Sacramento, 2015
I used to think that if I wove my culture into my stories, it would overshadow everything else. But I now know that’s not the case. Increasingly more books feature stories of immigrants and ethnic minorities, where culture serves as a background but doesn’t define the entire story. Regardless of culture, nationality, or language, readers identify with universal themes like love, friendship, ambition, envy and rivalry. Gone are the days of my childhood, when American picture books rarely included Asians, and when they did, they were side characters with slanted eyes that never opened. This celebration of all cultures has been highly encouraging. And I’m beginning to see that I might be able to contribute unique perspectives based on my upbringing.
Writing efficiently
As an introvert, I’ve always preferred writing over speaking because it allows me to think carefully about my thoughts. But I realize now that I need to practice writing about different topics, including my own thoughts, quickly. I will still pursue fiction, and maintain this blog in the meantime to share aspects of real life.
I recognize that feedback would help me grow. I have much to learn from artists and writers who put their work out there, and manage to ignore the inner (or real life) critic that says “you think someone cares about that?” or “look how self-absorbed you are!”. I know I’ll become more thick-skinned as I practice.
I have a lot of fun posting for friends on social media. Writing is cathartic, turning negative thoughts into positive action, and feedback from friends cheer me even more. But I’d like to take it to the next step, exposing my words to strangers, too (this takes so much courage, I had to force myself to slowly type the word “strangers” here!).
Making it a habit
Working in communications, I enjoy putting words on the screen, but by the time I come home, I rarely want to type some more. Being free of corporate restrictions like tone and vocabulary is liberating, but it’s also exhausting to build from nothing. Oftentimes I stare at the blinking cursor and wonder if I truly love writing, or if I only love the way I sound when I say I write. I’ve held on to this dream for so long that I worry about facing the unromantic parts of it, including the endless editing, and fear that I might not like it all that much. But I have to start somewhere, and hope that this platform will hold me accountable.
Resolution
This blog was a New Year’s resolution for 2019. But I spent time doing everything but writing. I bought a shiny new laptop, replacing one that was seven (!) years old. I researched blog sites, from those that would be easy to navigate regardless of language, to those that provided more resources to potentially expand in the future. I scanned topics to write about, but became discouraged that I was passionate about a lot but an expert in none. I thought about blog titles, but nothing clicked. I also debated about how much I should reveal about myself.
Days went by. For weeks, I woke up involuntarily at 3am everyday, unable to go back to sleep. I was utterly disappointed with myself for having spent yet another evening without any action, and went through the day groggily. I couldn’t even bring myself to respond to messages because I wanted my next post or email to be about the blog, and that added to my guilt.
Then it occurred to me that, in a meta way, this internal debate could be the topic of my first post. Exposing my weaknesses is one way I can be genuine in my writing.
Vincent van Gogh apparently wrote about how scary the blank canvas is. It’s still true–that blinking cursor on a blank page is one of the scariest things around. But things have become so much easier since van Gogh’s time. We can easily edit on a screen–in the case of a blog, even after publishing! The title of this blog is an ode to the “blank slate” (without its philosophical connotations) that would hopefully become a place for clean, efficient writing (“sarasara” in Japanese).
No one might read this entire post, but writing about it has, as always, helped me. While January is gone, I am relieved to finally publish this in early February, and hope to embark on a journey full of adventure.
