おつかれやま!!! (In romaji, "Otsukareyama!!!" In kanji, お疲れ山?)

 All of my former students in Japan officially ended their school year this week, I believe. Some will return in April, others have graduated. To them, I offer the proclamation, 「おつかれやま!!」

My first few years in Japan, I taught mostly adult students at a variety of locations. One of them was a language school in Yoyogi-Uehara. A nice young woman named Itoko liked teaching me 面白い日本語 ("interesting" Japanese).

I finished work on Monday nights there at 10pm. Itoko came up to me at the end of our 9-950pm class and shouted, "おつかれやま!” I didn't know what she meant, so I said nothing. She exclaimed once more, "おつかれやま!” I replied, "What--what is that?" She went on to explain that it was a variation on 「おつかれさまです」, the expression most commonly used among colleagues and co-workers at the end of a meeting or work day or project. (More on おつかれさまですin a future post. It's kind of a long explanation.)

The やま used to replace さま, she clarified, was the word for mountain (山). Therefore, おつかれやま was a way of denoting the end of a long work day. The 山 was to emphasize the tremendous time and effort you had put into it, like climbing a mountain.

Not long afterwards, I began teaching at 学習院女子大学 (Gakushuin Women's College). At the end of one of our classes, a presentation day that left everyone looking slightly exhausted, I decided to try it out. 「おつかれやま!」 said I, in a hearty voice. One of them, a girl named Yumi, said 「言わない、言わない。ださい。」 In English, something like "Don't say that, don't say that. It's corny." (More on ださいin a future post. It can be translated in multiple ways. In this case, I think "corny" seems appropriate.

But I remain undeterred. I don't know anyone who uses this word nowadays. Yet I say to all my former students, お疲れ山!!!

https://www.instagram.com/reel/CqNPoIyDvol/?utm_source=ig_web_button_share_sheet 

 

 

 

 

ワキガ（wakiga）= B.O.

I used to teach a lesson on English expressions for describing the world as we perceive it through our 5 physical senses. In other words, how to convey what we see, hear, smell, taste, and feel. The difference between hear and listen to (both 聞くin Japanese), the distinction between look at and watch (見るor 観るin Japanese, both of which are pronounced miru, I believe).

ワキガ came up in the smell section. Below is an excerpt from the handout that I made for my students:

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Smell / Scent / Odor/ Stench / Aroma/ Fragrance

• The word scent is generally neutral. People and animals all have scents. Dogs can follow people or other animals by the scent left behind.

• The word smell is neutral and can be used to describe pleasant and unpleasant things, but be careful—if you say, “S/he smells,” or “It smells in here,” it sounds negative. However, if you’re specific, e.g. “It smells like apples in here,” or “It smells like fish,” the word smell is neutral and only describes apples, fish, etc.

• The word odor can be used to describe neutral smells, but it often sounds negative. An example is the phrase “body odor,” which describes the smell that people acquire when they perspire (sweat) a lot.

• Stench is always an unpleasant odor.

• Aroma and fragrance are used to describe pleasant smells. Fragrance usually implies a sweet smell, such as flowers or perfume. However, if you say someone has a “strong or powerful fragrance,” it might sound negative, as if s/he is wearing too much perfume or cologne.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

In distinguishing nuances, I felt certain in saying that fragrance and aroma have pleasant connotations, and that stench is always bad. And then, to me at least, smell and odor are neutral. They can be good or bad. Although I have to note that I'd probably never say, "That is a nice odor" or "I love that odor." However, dictionary.com defines the word as possibly being agreeable or unpleasant, and I will not argue with dictionary.com.

But one usage of odor, I would say, is always negative: body odor, or B.O. "You have B.O." is never a compliment; it means you need a bath. In the midst of my explanation, a student cried out 「ワキガ!」 There was much laughter in the room. This is how I learned the colloquialism.

I've been debating in my mind as to whether I should mention the name of my school...

Okay, it was Gakushuin Women's College (学習院女子大学). I mention this because, to me, it adds a wonderfully ironic element to this memory. Gakushuin is an educational institution which was, according to Wikipedia, "originally established to educate the children of Japan's nobility." For this reason, especially with the women's university, a reputation exists in the minds of some, perhaps of many. Back when I used to teach business people, every middle-aged salaryman thought of Gakushuin women (学習院女子) as お嬢様, or princess-like ladies.  (I would like to note that, as is true just about anywhere, there are all kinds of people attending the college.)  

I will never forget that a 学習院女子 taught me the word ワキガ. I love that school.

 Some ワキガ videos!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NogKY9nEh0c 

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qnyITFq8se8

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4_1FvpmLwRM

 

Osechi Ryōri (おせち料理)

Also shortened to osechi (おせち), this is food for the New Year celebration. During my first New Year in Japan, my adult students explained that おせち dated back to a time before refrigerators. The female head of the household would prepare dishes that would last for days so that she could relax during the 正月 (Shōgatsu, or formally Oshōgatsu), from New Year's Eve through January 3rd. To help the food keep during those days, a lot of it was sweet, sour, marinated, and dried.

That was pretty much all my students told me about it back then. That, and how much trouble it was to actually prepare these dishes. This was twenty years ago, and supermarket osechi was becoming the preferred option; or maybe it had been that way long before I arrived to Japan, I don't know. In 2002, a lot of my students didn't much like osechi and it seemed to be falling out of favor, as was the modern tradition of watching the New Year's Eve television show, Kōhaku (short for Kōhaku Uta Gassen, translated as Red & White Song Battle).

I think the pendulum has swung back, as many of my teenage students watch and talk about the song contest when I ask them about their New Year celebration. And everywhere I went this year seemed to have images of osechi.

 This was what I had over the holidays. The best was the red shrimp, which is actually sashimi from Argentina, so maybe it isn't technically osechi ryōri, since it wasn't prepared in a special way. But shrimp is heavily featured in osechi. Symbolically, it represents a long life (like the long noodles of toshikoshi soba), as the curvature of the shrimp evokes the stooped posture of an elderly person (in my mind, hopefully not a result of osteoporosis).

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Oh yes, that's the other thing about osechi. Different dishes symbolize different things, hopes for the future. Health, effort, prosperity, academic achievement, fertility...There are so many well-written and photographed web pages of osechi, the best thing for me to do would be to list some of them. Not all of the information is identical; I tried to choose a variety that would cover the spectrum of osechi that I know. Below are links with short descriptions.

 

Nice photos and succinct explanations

https://savvytokyo.com/osechi-ryori-hidden-meanings-behind-japanese-new-year-food/

 

Also nice photos and explanations, content a little different from above link

https://www.tsunagujapan.com/a-guide-to-osechi-ryori-japan-s-traditional-new-year-food/

 

easy-to-understand table format

http://kikuko-nagoya.com/html/osechi.html

This page explains the 3-tiered osechi jubako (the boxes in which the food is packed). Respectfully, I think that the writer might not be a native English speaker; I also think that this could be a good thing, as (if s/he is a native Japanese speaker) it includes some bits of information not included on the English websites that I viewed.

http://qto.co.jp/en/garden/qto46_osechi.html

 

Another page with excellent photos and information about some soup (ozoni) and fish dishes that the previously mentioned links don't contain.

https://www.justonecookbook.com/osechi-ryori-japanese-new-year-food/

 

 Below is an NHK video about osechi

 

 

This is a short one about packing the boxes

 

 

and this is a nice look at some pricier options

 

 

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皆さん、あけおめ！ことよろ！

The vocabulary of a pandemic: 隔離(かくり), 緊急事態宣言 (きんきゅうじたいせんげん) , ワクチン, ブースター

Every few years, I come to this blog and the same thought flashes through my disbelieving mind. "My God, has it been that long since I last posted?" This time around it's been two-and-a-half years. And this time, I had two simultaneous gut reactions, the first being "I can't believe it's already been two-and-a-half years" and the second being, "It feels more like five, maybe even seven years have passed" since my last entry, which was about eight months before most of the world knew the words covid, corona (not counting the beer), or coronavirus.  

I suppose most of us do not yearn to hear or read evermore corona stories, so I'll try not to ramble on for too long. And, if you think you might try entering Japan any time soon, I hope this might be a helpful bit of language and experience. With the advent of the omicron variant, Japan has tightened its policies toward incoming travelers. As of this writing, tourists aren't allowed to enter. 

As a permanent resident in Japan, I've been fortunate to have re-entry thrice since the start of the pandemic. The first, in April 2020, went down to the line. I had spent a month back home in Hawai'i (spring break), and during the month of March the details of covid-19 were materializing to the world. Japan's government, having been forced to postpone its Olympics, declared the virus to be a serious issue and announced its restrictions on arriving passengers. Airlines were canceling flights, one of which was mine. But my flight was rescheduled from the end of March to early April; ANA's solution was to fly me out to Los Angeles, then book me on a direct flight to Tokyo. (I love ANA, by the way. They never charged me for rescheduling and took the time to have an English-speaking representative call me at home to make sure I could return to Japan. Also, everyone I've ever dealt with at ANA has been so nice.  Also, I give a shout-out to JAL, who has rescheduled me for free so many times when flights were canceled, I really have lost count.) 

I had to fly to LA on United Airlines. The flight was so empty that I had the entire middle row to myself. There was no alcohol served on that flight. This was from Honoulu to LA, and there was no alcohol. Fortunately, I was able to dose off for a few hours, lying supine in the middle row. When I arrived to LAX in the morning, it seemed a ghost town. In need of food and drink, I decided on a mini-Wolfgang Puck, where I was able to order a beer and a breakfast pizza (i.e. pizza with a couple of sunny side-up eggs on it).

 

 

 

 

I don't recall much about the flight from LA to Narita, except for the fact that they served alcohol. Also, this was before scientists knew how much of an airborne virus was corona, and masks were in short supply. Not many of us were wearing them. A lot of people were sanitizing everything they touched. That's how it was back then.

When I arrived to Narita, it was long waits in long lines. I had my very first deep nasal swab. I didn't know that there were q-tips of such length; it's a discomfiting feeling when you see them before they go into you. Afterward, as I progressed toward exiting the airport with a group of twenty-something fellow passengers, I hit the last roadblock. We weren't allowed to use public transportation because of he 14-day quarantine requirement, which still exists.

 

 These days, hiring a private driver to take you from the airport to your destination is quite easy, although not cheap. It has become something of an industry. But in April 2020, it was a nascent market and service, and I wasn't able to secure a ride into Tokyo on the night of my landing. Consequently, I was kept in a nearby hotel, the Toyoko Inn, at the government's expense. As they escorted me to the shuttle, government employees thoroughly decked in PPE, I did feel as if in a movie. The whole bus covered in plastic. It was kind of exciting.

 

  

The room was decent, too. Two large beds, and comfortable. A nice view. Bottled water awaited me, and shortly after a meal was delivered. I didn't mind being there, really, and the government was my host.

 

 

 Into the later night hours, I thought some red wine was in order. I called the lobby and asked for akawain (akai = red, wain = wine), and the friendly-sounding man on the other end said "Kashikomarimashita" (Certainly!). I waited for a bit, and waited a little more, and then stuck my head out the door to find a woman with excellent posture keeping watch in the hallway near the elevators. I waved and she nodded her head to me. Then I noticed a plastic bag hung on my door and happily brought it into my room.   

 

It was not akawain, though. It was cup ramen. I don't know how my pronunciation could have been so bad that the friendly-sounding man thought that I was asking for instant noodles, but I guess it was. I called the desk again and thanked him, but clarified that I was asking for--and this time, I spoke very slowly for the sake of enunciation--"A-ka-wa-in, kudasai." This time, he understood me completely. In his still-friendly voice he said, "Sumimasen. Osake, nomemasen," which translates to "I'm sorry, you can't drink alcohol while you're here." He also spoke these words slowly and clearly.

I found out later that there was a convenience store, I think a Family Mart, on the first floor by the lobby, but for some reason I wasn't allowed to order or purchase from it. 

To wind down this story, the food they delivered to my room was pretty good, but not enough. We were able to request more, but nothing containing alcohol.

I read the novel Kokoro, by Natsume Soseki. 

 

I sat by the window and watched the sun set. I had hotel wifi and was thus able to do much of what I would have done if quarantined at home. I suppose I did push-ups and planks, maybe some squats, to keep at least a little physically active, but I really don't remember.

 

 

I stayed in that Toyoko Inn for two full days, after which my dear friend Leon came to pick me up and take me to my apartment in Okubo, Shinjuku. God bless him. I didn't mention earlier, that aside from hiring a private ride out of the airport, the other options were to rent a car (but I don't have a license for driving in Japan) or have someone pick you up. Good old Leon got me out of there and took me to a 7-11 where I bought snacks and beer. Then he took me to a Yoshinoya and we feasted on gyudon (beef bowls).

I realize that I've mentioned alcohol several times in this post. I'd like to finally add that the best part of my quarantine experience was realizing that I enjoy but don't need to drink. Generally I drink with my dinner and am used to imbibing during the night. Having to spend two days in abstinence was unforeseen, but a good thing.

I flew back home to Hawai'i twice in 2021. Upon returning to Japan, both times I hired a private driver, easy to do in this now burgeoned market. Each time it cost me 18,820 JPY. A bit of a bite, but I got to spend those following weeks in the comfort of my own home, so it was worth it. This is the website I used:

https://secure.ana-g.com/anacom/cgi-bin/hire/index_en.php

I chose it because the service is affiliated with ANA, so I felt comfortable trusting in its reliability. But you can find cheaper rides if you search "private drivers from Narita/Haneda." I think it'll always cost more than $100 USD, but some of them are not a lot more.

 

Anyway...no more ホテル隔離 for this kid!

Other vocabulary for the pandemic: 

ワクチン (waskushin) = vaccine,

ブースター(bu-su-ta-) = booster

緊急事態宣言 (きんきゅうじたいせんげん, kinkyuu jitai senden) = state of emergency

------------------------------------------------

 I put off posting this entry for a while.

I'm hoping there won't be new pandemic words to post next year, except for the good news variety (i.e. good therapeutics, testing, cures).

 良いお年を!!!

-Wes

 

 

 

Reiwa , 令和, a new era

Reiwa , 令和, is the name of the era just begun as Emperor Akihito abdicated to his son, Naruhito on May 1, 2019. It has stirred some controversy, as the first kanji, 令, can be translated as command. This has caused some concern as to the intended connotation and possible implications of this choice made by the government. 

As written in this Reuters article, the character 令 is “often used to mean 'command' or 'order,' imparting an authoritarian nuance that offends some.”

https://www.reuters.com/article/us-japan-emperor-calendar/whats-in-a-name-japan-puzzles-over-reiwa-the-term-for-new-imperial-era-idUSKCN1RE0KW

My kanji app did define it as orders.

Those voicing concern over the implied meaning of 令和note the hawkishness of the current administration, as well as the family ties of some government officials (including Prime Minister Abe) to Japan's military past, especially World War II and events leading up to it. Critics voice the worry that Japan could become aggressive. In my view, a newer development is been President Trump's unpredictable statements and behavior, since it has been America's role to protect Japan during its pacifist days, as established by the Constitution of 1947. Although he and PM Abe seem to have a cordial relationship, the U.S. President has expressed the notion that Japan may have to defend itself, as can be seen bout 0:42 into this video, just before the choir rendition of the Stones' “You Can't Always Get What You Want.”

I'd prefer not to embed the video, but the link is:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xoXdWgMLZRg

Anyway, the only point I mean to make is that if a pacifist nation's protective ally makes its military defense sound uncertain, it's natural for the pacifist nation to want to build its own defense. Having said that, I hope that Japan remains pacifist. But I guess we'll see...

So PM Abe and his administration has been sensitive to concerns about the nuance of Reiwa , 令和, which is nice, and I'm glad of it. They've defined it as “beautiful harmony.” This article from the Japan Times explains it more extensively. Abe offers the more complex definition, that of a “culture born and nurtured as people’s hearts are beautifully drawn together.” I'm not sure how you get all that from 令和, but I guess that's his interpretation.

https://www.japantimes.co.jp/news/2019/04/03/national/japan-assures-world-reiwa-beautiful-harmony-nothing-command/#.XMpvTqSRU2w

 

On the news

 

 

And little did I know, despite living in Tokyo, there were massive celebrations. I was at home watching Game of Thrones. 

Some videos about the background of 令和:




This lady talks a bit about the Reuters article at the link at the top of this post.

Finally, how to write the kanji:

 

Happy Reiwa!  May it be a peaceful and prosperous time 

TKG, 卵かけご飯 (たまごかけごはん)

卵(tamago) = egg
ご飯 (gohan) = rice
Kake (かけ, full form かける) means you're putting or pouring egg onto rice, preferably hot steaming rice. Most people here would add shoyu to the raw egg. Almost all of my Japanese friends seem to trust and eat without fear raw eggs produced and sold in Japan.  When traveling abroad, most of them would be more cautious, which I think speaks to the level of trust that many, perhaps most, Japanese people have in Japanese products.  I'm letting myself generalize here, with no judgment intended...  

Below are a few old school TKG examples:





   


There's now a TKG machine.  I don't know when it came out, but these videos appeared last year.  The machine separates the yolk (黄身, kimi) from the egg white (白身, shiromi). The first one shows three different dishes: a simple TKG, one with natto (fermented soybeans) and shirasu (whitebait fish), and one using instant ramen instead of rice.  All include negi (green onions).



 


And this caught my attention because I believe they're speaking Chinese, and yet TKG is part of their vocabulary.

jukensei (受験生) and rōnin (浪人)

jukensei

受験生

A jukensei (受験生) is a student preparing for a school's entrance exams.  Most typically, this means someone in his/her final year of high school.  (Junior high school students studying to enter high school are also jukensei.)  Although many students begin studying in earnest at the start of senior year (or even earlier), probably most of my own students focus on their 受験生 lives from after summer break.  These studies are in addition to their already existing daily school demands, which can be considerable.

While some students will have the chance to take entrance exams at the end of the calendar year, most will participate in January and February admissions.

The 受験生 life seems hard.  However, many seem to find time to enjoy a bit of each day during this period, to which their Instagram stories would attest.  Small, ordinary pleasures often take greater meaning in times of adversity and fatigue.

When I was in junior high school, in Hawai'i, I used to hear stories about (some) Japanese students committing suicide when they failed to get into the universities of their choice.  As a child growing up in the islands, what I knew about Japan was often unnoticed and unconscious, many Japanese things not even thought of as Japanese, in our local culture.  I guess my favorite example is something my auntie said when she visited me in Tokyo; she asked my friend, "Do you think we can find omiyage in Japan?", not recognizing that omiyage is a Japanese word.  A lot of our words are like that--they come from faraway lands and blend seamlessly with the English that was imported and naturalized and which has evolved in the islands for more than two centuries.  (For humorous examples, see the book Pidgin to the Max.)

Hearing about Japan's young suicides happened at the start of my adolescence.  It may have been my introduction to a grownup version of pressure for success, and to an unadulterated consequence of failure.  It colored my perception of modern Japanese culture and many of my peers of the time would make a similar claim.  We imagined across an ocean a society in the midst of great success--this was during the Bubble Economy--that  bestowed an intense burden on its people.  It was a simplistic interpretation based on a few articles in the newspaper, but perhaps not necessarily entirely wrong.

I can't speak to that time in Japan's recent history; I arrived a few years after the Bubble had burst.  Sometimes I hear stories from colleagues who grew up during the era.  My students certainly know about it from their parents and teachers but, thankfully, much seems to have changed.  My third-year students (called seniors back home) are stressed, and most of them go through to four or more months of hellish existence, room and time in their lives for little more than studying a curriculum designed to pass university entrance exams. 

A high school student who has failed to enter his/her intended college may have, depending on familial, financial, and other circumstances, the option of becoming a rōnin (浪人).  As books and movies and comics have taught us, the original meaning of rōnin is masterless samurai.  (See Frank Miller's Rōnin for his groundbreaking example of Dystopian ficiton.)  The definition used in my students' lives is a graduate from high school who spends the following year in preparation for a second crack at entrance exams.  These rōnin may study independently at home or, if the family can afford it, at a cram school most probably specializing in entrance exams. 

I'm not clear on how many chances a rōnin has--this may depend on the rōnin and his/her family--but having at least a second one takes off some of the pressure.  This month brings the end to an arduous journey for many a teenager in Japan.  Some will continue into March.

Below is a sample from the Frank Miller series mentioned above.  I think lot of his writing is great...I would add that this particular story probably shouldn't be interpreted as a literal account of Japanese culture, but rather as science fiction and fantasy influenced by Miller's interest in Japanese culture.  (He spent some time in Japan.)  Someone was nice enough to make a video of the first issue.

And here, someone posted a short documentary about the 47 Rōnin legend:

And someone else posted about the historical site:

Finally, I did a search on "rōnin (浪人) jukensei (受験生)" and this video came up on top:

rōnin (浪人) jukensei (受験生)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z5h-PkPAI00

ユルい, yurui = loose (and other meanings)

One of the best things about teaching in schools as a part-timer is having long vacations.  I spent a month and a day this summer back home in Hawai'i.  Being back home always reprograms my mind, my body--a sort of resetting, I guess you could say.  The beach, the air and sun, the time to eat with friends and family, the chance to go to the cinema any time I want...There are a number of things that factor in.  Most of all, the chance to get all the rest and sleep that I want.  A few days into my vacation, I looked at the mirror and thought, My God, the bags under my eyes have disappeared.  Thank you!

After the month of summer break, I'm fine with coming back to Japan, and I'm fine with going back to work, since I quite like my schools.  But the stamina isn't there, at first.  I get exhausted after teaching one or two classes.  

Thankfully, my team-teachers (i.e. Japanese teachers who conduct the class with me) also lose stamina over the vacation, so neither of us feels a burning desire to hit the ground running.  This year, my first class back was Expressions, our name for  our translation/grammar course.   It requires little preparation, relying mostly on our diligence and attention to the moment, as we examine students' writings, making corrections of clear errors, offering alternative expressions that may help their sentences flow, and trying to derive from specific examples what general rules of grammar and syntax should be broken down for analysis within that class period.  I don't know if this sounds exactly fun, but it can be if teachers and students interact well.  

The first day back to school, my team-teacher for this E class, in a moment of thinking aloud, breathed a sigh of relief halfway into it, "Ah, this is a good class to get back into it  ユルい、ね."  When I looked it up in Google Translator, loose was the singular result.  The TT said that it is the literal meaning, but in this situation it translated better to "laid back," or a way to ease into something.

For this video, the usage of ユルい might be something like light or easy (exercises), something a light workout.






I like this one,ユルいバトル (yurui battle).  I would describe it as playful fighting, but I suppose that isn't much of a direct translation.  But anyway... 

 




I'm still trying to figure out why this is a yurui bangumi...






Finally, if you search ユルいラップ, the results will bring you some slow and, yes, loose rap and hip hop.  I guess the word chill applies.  This one is a sizeable mix.



It seems to me that all the meanings have in common a relaxing lack of intensity, so maybe I'd go with that as a definition.

引きこもり (hikikomori)

Someone taught me this word about ten years ago.  She was a charming young woman about to graduate from a music college--she was funny, and fun.  After we'd known each other for a few weeks, though, she explained to me over dinner that she had this other side, this hikikomori side to her, which made her want to sleep all day and surf the internet from the evening to early morning, and repeat the pattern the next day, never having to leave the house.  She was living with her parents. 

Hiku means to withdraw, and komoru ( 籠る、こもる) means to seclude oneself.  She wanted to know how to say hikikomori in English.  The words that immediately came to mind were recluse/reclusive and hermit.  When I asked a colleague at school what he thought, he said that yamagomori would be a better literal translation for the kind of hermit that we might see in, for instance, How the Grinch Stole Christmas.  Yama (山) is the word for mountain, after all.  I suppose in English that we could equally say that J.D. Salinger was well-known for being a recluse, and metaphorically we might also say that he was a bit of a hermit during his final decades.  But apparently in Japanese hikikomori would be the more conventional word for people who choose to hole themselves up at home.


So I just came across this CNN article about the 541,000 people in the country who are deemed by the Japanese cabinet to be hikikomori.  They came up with a clear and articulate definition, i.e. "those who haven't left their homes or interacted with others for at least six months."

You can read it at:  http://edition.cnn.com/2016/09/11/asia/japanese-millennials-hikikomori-social-recluse/index.html
I like the two videos.  It's been a while since I got excited about a CNN video, to tell the truth.  

The other video (below), artfully made, is also embedded within the CNN article:




*correction--In the initial post, I wrote that komori is the word for cloud.  I apologize for this mistake.  Kumori (曇り) is the word for cloud.  Sorry, everyone!

And this is Dr. Seuss's infamous hermit--

ゆめかわいい (yume kawaii)

At one of my schools, students go all out on Sports Day.  It isn't so much that we're a particularly athletic school; it has more to do with the Endan, a trilogy of musical dance interpretations.  Usually much costume design and hair coloring is involved.  The three teams--Red, White, and Blue--dress and color accordingly.

So this happened back in May.  (My apologies as always for slacking on blogging.)  In one of my classes, a couple of girls in the back row were emanating a silvery glow from their white locks.  "Kawaii deshou?" asked someone sitting next to the silvery white-haired duo.  "Yume kawaii!"  I was saying "Wh-What--?" and she went on to explain the meaning of ゆめかわいい.  ゆめ is dream, and かわいい is of course cute/pretty, so ゆめかわいい is a dreamlike cuteness/prettiness, i.e. dreamy.  "She is like unicorn," finished the explanation.

Some nights later I was drinking with some Japanese colleagues and I told them the story.  One of them begged to differ with our students' interpretation of ゆめかわいい.  He learned the term some years back in his classical Japanese studies.  Long ago, he said, ゆめかわいい simply meant "very cute/pretty."  It was written in hiragana, so there was no kanji to denote the term's meaning.  But, according to my friend and colleague, ゆめ meant very (back in the day) and かわいい had the same meaning as it does now.  So ゆめかわいい was back then today's ちょうかわいい or めちゃかわいい.

On searching for examples of the term, I must say there were a lot of videos of makeup tips.  This is an example of how to make oneself up to be ゆめかわいい. 



Photos that turned up seemed to include white, pink, light blue, and other compatible colors.
 


Searching "yume kawaii fashion" and "yume kawaii box" turns up images congruent to the above.  I'm still trying to wrap my head around the yume kawaii box.  In my imagination, people who are really into are having it shipped to their homes.

YDK (Yareba Dekiru Ko, やればできる子)

I teach two eikaiwa classes, to our high school's 1st-years (in the states, we'd call them 10th graders).  During the third term, we focus on debating skills.

Before starting on debate, though, I always ask if anyone has something else they want to talk about, discuss, disclose...just anything they have going on in their lives that they'd like to be able to express in English.  One of my classes, a group of eight, always has something.  They like to have conversations about everyday things.  From one perspective, there's something ideal about this because it implies that they carry in them a self-motivation of some kind; it also lets them establishes a context through which they might readily remember what they learn.  In general, I feel that people retain information most easily when their interests are ignited, or engaged, so for them to bring their own topics of conversation is a good thing.

The downside is that these conversations take time, so we fell behind schedule in our debate practice.  My Japanese team-teacher and I were getting a little worried that we'd run out of time, maybe fall short of having an actual full debate before the end of term, and we expressed this to the class.  Our apprehensions were causeless.  The students threw themselves for one 45-minute period into a fully formatted and timed debate as my team-teacher sighed with relief.

As class ended, teachers complimented students, confessing our initial level of concern.  The students were not offended in the least, but rather nodded in assent.  They perhaps had their own doubts about how it would go.  But, one young lady said, "やっぱりYDK."  She probably anticipated my perplexity, and correctly so; she immediately followed by explaining her acronym, "やればできる子."  やれば means "if you do," and できる, of course, means "able to" or "can."  子 is short for 子供, or child.  So literally translated, I guess YDK would be something like "a child who, if s/he does something, can do it."  A less literal translation might be "someone who can do something if s/he tries."  Or "a child who, if  s/he tries, can succeed."  I sense that the hypothetical aspect to this phrase is an important connotation because it implies that intrinsic to the definition is an uncertainty, before trying/doing something, as to whether the person can do actually it.  And then by taking the leap the YDK dispels all doubts.  Although I didn't ask, I'd bet that this is a term coined by the youth of Japan.

However, since it's been used in commercials, television viewers around the nation, and because it has a dance named after it, I'm sure the general population knows or will soon come to know this acronym.