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It took me two hours of focused Japanese study this morning to give me the confidence not to shirk past my neighbor as he emerged from his apartment today.  It's not that I had anything to say, but somehow my kana competence endowed me with the strength to say, "Konnichi wa.  Hashime mashite, watashi wa Ahn Do Re Ah."  (Hello.  Nice to meet you, my name is Andrea).  He smiled under his breath and said, "Yoroshiku." (Nice to meet you.)  That was it.  He didn't offer his name, or ask anything.  Maybe I didn't hold my "n's" long enough, or maybe it was my American smile that gave it away:  I don't really know how to speak Japanese.   I'm grateful that he embraced my awkwardness and didn't extend.  It seemed uncharacteristically short of him, from my experience with the Japanese thus far, but because it was so painless, I'm not offended or in the least bit bothered.  In fact I've taken to imagining that he is an aikido master (or judo or kendo....)who could read my entire life in that one encounter and that over the course of the next three years as I gain his respect through diligent Japanese practice and respectful behavior, we will have more meetings on our little landing and then over tea.  I will convince him to once again start his practice and to take me on as his only student.

An alternate explanation is that he was concerned with finding an outlet for his extension cord and didn't want to be bothered with a conversation that couldn't be had.  Either way, I've managed to introduce myself and smile.  It's most of what I can do.

I reflected on linguistically truncated communication today. I realized that the most important words to know in a language when travelling are the only two that I have at all times, ready on my lips: "Excuse me/I'm sorry," and "Thank you."  Humility and gratitude.  There are so many other things that language can express, but this is the place from which I start.  I've found them helpful in any country.  What does it say about humanity that these are the first words that we need when encountering strangers in a foreign country?  Or that these are the two expressions that can get you through most things?  If we offer our humility, people tend to forgive and try to help more.  I think that the expression of gratitude has a similar effect, but does more than express something to the person to whom it is offered.  It is a reminder to the person speaking it.  It feels so good to be able to thank a person for their help, especially after asking for their forgiveness in a difficult exchange.  It keeps people closer.  It's so easy to be afraid of people with whom you cannot communicate.  There is so much room for misunderstanding and with misunderstanding often comes defensiveness, and even offensiveness.  But to be able to say, "Thank you" steps beyond these feelings.  I am so grateful for their patience and help.  It gives me a little more courage to do things unfamiliar to me; to go to the bank to set up automatic withdrawal, or to pay my utilities at the convenient store.  I apologize for my lack of understanding, for my awkwardness, and then I thank them.  Doing it alone is impossible, I need their help.  And maybe I don't understand all the steps, maybe I can't bond with small talk, and maybe I don't understand the motivations behind what they are saying or doing, but it is enough to express some basic things.

Maybe the next time I see my neighbor I will say a few more words and get a little more across to him and from him.  I'm happy to show him that I know how to say, "Sumimasen," and "Arigato gozaimas," but really our relationship is less obligatory.  These two words are wonderful words, but they can only go so far.  Language has developed such a multitude of nuanced ways to express things.  We can learn more about ourselves and others through our ability to express our ideas and emotions.  I'd just like to know who he is, what he does on the weekends, if he has children and what his wife is like.  Does he like baseball, has he live in Takarazuka his whole life or is he from another part of Japan, and what is his favorite food?  In so many words, I'd like to what it's like to be Japanese.  What it's like to be him.  Is language the thing that brings us closer to one another, or have we created a barrier with it?  I think I'm closer to the people with whom I can speak, but I also think that the moments and exchanges of greatest intimacy and understanding are the ones which extended beyond, or without, words.  Humor, pain, empathy.  Exchanges of expression, of timing, of gesture and touch.  But perhaps language is the gateway to these things.  Someday I'll have enough, I hope, that I can pass through.