Read Online Tune In Tokyo:The Gaijin Diaries by Tim Anderson - Free Book Online

papers and prepare to leave. As I put the books into my backpack, Yoko tells me my homework is to learn to write the first ten characters in the Kanji book and to study the two phonetic alphabets, Katakana and Hiragana. I come very close to crying and begging for her benevolent mercy, but I can hardly say no after the good time she’s shown me.
    So I tell her I’ll do my best, bow, say goodbye to Fumiko, who’s standing with her hands behind her back cracking her knuckles, give Yoko a gentle American handshake, almost fall over trying to put my shoes on while bowing and saying goodbye, and step out into the hall.
    Yoko and Fumiko smile at me from the door as I walk to the elevator, their bright faces flanked by those of Bambi, Thumper, and a half dozen dwarves. All the way home I think of the gloating I’m going to do about all the Japanese culture I’d imbibed in one evening.
    The next day at work, I walk into the teachers’ room and greet everyone warmly, waiting desperately for someone to ask me what I did last night or why I was in such a good mood or how to ask a Japanese taxi driver to drive me to the train station.
    I see Joy and light up, because I know she’s also taught Yoko, and given her current interest in all things Japan, she’ll probably be very interested in hearing about my evening of cultural immersion.
    “I had my first lesson with Yoko last night,” I begin.
    “Oh, cool!” she said. “That’s great! Did she do the tea ceremony for you?”
    “The what?”
    “The tea ceremony. When I went a couple nights ago, she and Fumiko did a tea ceremony for me, and then we all sat around and took turns playing the Japanese harp. It was really fun.”
    Am I just one of many? It can’t be. I am chosen.
    “Oh, and she made yaki soba, and I learned how to give directions to a cab driver.”
    “Uh…that’s cool. Yeah, we did all that.”
    “She also showed me a little bit about Japanese flower arranging, which was kind of cool, because, you know, I was wanting to take a class or something, and now I think I’ll just pay her, you know, because she’ll give me a good rate I think, and she’ll, like, teach me Japanese at the same time. But you know what? To tell you the truth, I was most interested in the beautiful kimono collection she has. Did she show them to you?”
    “No.”
    “God, you should see some of the designs! Oh, and her bonsai garden! Absolutely gorgeous. That woman can do anything, I swear. Oh! And she wants me to teach her Spanish! Que magnifica, no?”
    “Oh, yeah, Spanish, that’s great. And the bonsai garden was…you know, just totally amazing. Very artistic.” The lies just pour out of me.
    I sit down to look at my first students’ folders and pick a lesson, wondering if I should ask if Joy knows about Yoko’s husband’s philandering and her problems getting Fumiko married. I decide not to, figuring I need to hold on to something of the whole Yoko experience that is mine and only mine, even if it’s also everyone’s.
    I pick out a lesson for my class and pull out my new Japanese book, starting in on the first chapter.
    The first bell rings, and the other teachers begin flooding in. Joy tells everyone about my night at Yoko’s, and the questions start flying:
    “Did you have those tiny cakes?”
    “Wasn’t her apartment beautiful?”
    “Did she play you any Disney songs on the harp?”
    “Fumiko is always messing with her fingers!”
    Hmph.
    So my experience at Yoko’s wasn’t my own. That’s OK. The key is that I have begun to break down that language barrier and expose myself to the other side of the world. And I’m eating some great food in the meantime. It will happen brick by brick and stone by stone, but it will happen, and one day, I’ll look straight through to where a wall once stood with my Western eyes and not only be able to give a taxi driver directions, I’ll be able to ask him his opinion of the flat tax and banter with him good-naturedly about