The status of Japanese-American diplomacy
I speak and she nods; she speaks and I do the same. These nods and subtle gestures allude to understanding, but underneath we’re both holding on barely by fingernails. Nods say, “I understand”, “I’ve got it,” “wakarimashita,” “naruhodo,” but in reality, either one of us is floundering at 60% at any given time by my estimate. We pick up the pace because we’re nodding. We speak more and faster because we’re nodding, because we’re tired and lazy, until finally we are lost among the consonants and syllables.
“Hayai,” I say. “Fast Danny,” she says. These are the daily oscillations of an international, bilingual relationship.
Ultimately, I think it’s a blast. Constantly entertaining and fascinating. When Chiaki does something particularly interesting or cute, I have to ask myself the normal questions like, “Is that something most women do, or just Japanese women?” Maybe it’s not women at all, but Japanese people, or maybe because she’s a nurse, wait…a Japanese nurse! That must be it. They taught her those quirks in Japanese nursing school. Or is it just because she’s Saito Chiaki-chan? I’m lucky to find that most of the time it’s in asking the latter question that I find my answer. I’m lucky.
Tags: Japan
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