Desperately Missing English
Not too long ago on a Friday I stopped in at the local grocery store to pick up a carton of milk, since I thought I would want to make chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast the following morning.
Not knowing any kanji, I walked to the milk section, grabbed a carton and went home.
The next morning, as planned, I made the pancakes. I noticed the batter was a little runnier than usual, and thought to taste one of the pancakes. It tasted just fine, and with freshly melted chocolate in my mouth I poured myself a glass of the milk I bought and had used in the pancake batter.
I took a giant swig to quench my thirst but immediately recoiled. What I drank was probably the most rancid thing to ever cross my lips. I spit it out immediately (half in the sink, half on the floor) and once I stopped gagging, I checked the expiration date on the milk. Still had a week to spare.
"What the fuck?" I asked aloud, not quite sure who I was asking, but desperately hoping someone would provide an answer to the cause of that foul, borderline noxious taste still lingering on my lips.
I grabbed the carton searching for an answer. After poring over the carton, I spotted some small English writing in a corner, and could not believe that I had actually bought "Hokkaido Drink Yogurt." I let out a series of expletives for anyone within a three block radius to hear and not understand.
As much fun as I have on a daily basis being able to speak in very inappropriate ways (today two 6-year old students went on about having two basketballs, and I asked them if they like playing with their balls), the other side of that coin is not being able to read signs on trains, ask salespeople in stores to compare two similar products, or understand vital containers in the supermarket.
The ups and downs of not speaking the local language continue...
Not knowing any kanji, I walked to the milk section, grabbed a carton and went home.
The next morning, as planned, I made the pancakes. I noticed the batter was a little runnier than usual, and thought to taste one of the pancakes. It tasted just fine, and with freshly melted chocolate in my mouth I poured myself a glass of the milk I bought and had used in the pancake batter.
I took a giant swig to quench my thirst but immediately recoiled. What I drank was probably the most rancid thing to ever cross my lips. I spit it out immediately (half in the sink, half on the floor) and once I stopped gagging, I checked the expiration date on the milk. Still had a week to spare.
"What the fuck?" I asked aloud, not quite sure who I was asking, but desperately hoping someone would provide an answer to the cause of that foul, borderline noxious taste still lingering on my lips.
I grabbed the carton searching for an answer. After poring over the carton, I spotted some small English writing in a corner, and could not believe that I had actually bought "Hokkaido Drink Yogurt." I let out a series of expletives for anyone within a three block radius to hear and not understand.
As much fun as I have on a daily basis being able to speak in very inappropriate ways (today two 6-year old students went on about having two basketballs, and I asked them if they like playing with their balls), the other side of that coin is not being able to read signs on trains, ask salespeople in stores to compare two similar products, or understand vital containers in the supermarket.
The ups and downs of not speaking the local language continue...
posted by David at 8:12 PM
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