Since Wednesday’s comic involves sales (or lack thereof), and I just opened up a Project Wonderful ad slot, I’m in a money mood, so allow me to introduce one of the most ubiquitous of Japanese expressions: Irasshaimase!!! (I’m assuming exclamation marks are a legal requirement when writing irasshaimase!, but the multiples are a bonus.) Enter any store, restaurant, or shopping center, and you’ll hear this hail of “Welcome!” ring out like a capitalistic battle cry, or, maybe more appropriately, like the mating call of the domestic sales clerk desperate to attract a willing wad of cash (brought to you by Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom).

Irasshaimase can come in variations, depending on the region and the speaker. My favorite, The machine-gun welcome: ‘rasshai-’rasshai-’rasshai!! Often heard in more down to earth establishments, like busy fish markets, I think. There’s something very… car salesman-ish about this approach.

In contrast, consider a common American store greeting: “Whaddaya want? (sneer optional).

I’ve found a sample at David in Japan, but nothing yet of my favorite version. Holler if you find a link!

This analogy from Johnny Wander is about as clear a depiction as I’ve seen. This is like me trying to communicate with my toddler in Japanese when he’s doing something upsetting. Punctuated by long pauses on inconvenient landings.

So, the axiom offered up in Monday’s strip was a theory I heard countless times while my wife and I were dating. At the risk of eliciting a “methinks the cartoonist doth protest too much,” let me just note that I knew a guy who had lived for somewhere around sixteen years in Japan, was married to a Japanese woman, had kids with her, and spoke no more than a handful of Japanese phrases. The will is really the way.

There were people in my past, though, who genuinely thought I was either just dating my wife-to-be as part of some twisted Berlitz course, or because Japanese women are “so subservient and eager to please,” and I must like that sort of thing. (It is to laugh, but that’s a topic for another day.)

Having a native-speaking significant other just increases practice opportunities. Depending on the nature of your relationship, however, you may wind up primarily learning phrases you can’t repeat in polite society. (This goes both ways; pity the non-native English speaker who dates someone from Coxsackie, NY.)

My theory of Japanese learning is that the best way to learn a language is to live there, make some friends who speak the language, and find hooks in the language and culture that keep you engaged. This, of course, would be superceded by Dave Barry’s suggestion that the truly best way to learn Japanese is to be born in Japan, as a Japanese person.

All of the above only applies to the spoken language. Written Japanese is a bear, and were I not happily married, I might be actively searching dating sites for a Japanese calligraphy expert.

Munya munya is the term used in Japanese to describe the sound and sensation of mumbling. It’s a great word. I love the way it rolls… or, sort of, clumps… off the tongue. As an example:

Zen zen David Duchovny no munya munya wo wakaranai.

(Is it still funny to joke about how David Duchovny talks?)

Munya munya is part of a whole class (no, not that kind of class) of Japanese onomatopoeia words (hardest task today: figuring out how to spell onomatopoeia), including both words that represent the sound of something, like munya munya, and words that represent the feeling of something, like peko peko (the feeling of being really hungry).

To date, Japanese is the only language I’ve encountered that actually has a “sound of silence.”

(Sheeeeen!)

Although I’ve learned many Japanese children’s songs, I’ve only heard a relative few komori uta (lullabies, or, literally, “nursemaid songs”). My favorite by far is the subject of Monday’s strip. I’ve taken a pass at translating it, but it definitely should be heard sung. (There’s a nice CD, Oyasumi, by Aiko Shimada and Elizabeth Falconer, that has a pretty, though stylized, version of the song; you can find it at Amazon and iTunes if you want to listen to the track sample.)

My wife used to sing the Ocean Lullaby (Umi, in Japanese) to our son when he was still in the womb. She taught me the words, and I’ve found it still has a calming effect on him nearly four years post-utero. (For some strange reason, so does Seventy-Six Trombones…)

In Wednesday’s comic, Lyle espoused the belief that a person or situation only has control over someone who allows that control. It was part of the set-up for a gag, but this was also a case of me speaking through one of my characters. I do think it can be hard to figure out how to pull yourself away from another’s control, especially if the consequences make hits on other things you want–like a steady paycheck and benefits, in Colin’s case–but that there always tends to be some way around, if you can find it, or if you’re willing to sacrifice.

Don’t mean to get all preacherific here. Re-reading that strip just made me think about how Colin’s point of view runs into conflict with an oft-repeated Japanese expression: “Shou ga nai” (sometimes shikata ga nai), which means: “It can’t be helped, there’s no other way.”

I’ve heard that this was a phrase often used in the days after World War II, when Japan, and many of its people’s lives, were in shambles. Rather than wallow in self-pity, folks would shrug and say, “shou ga nai,” and continue on pushing through as best they could. So that’s the positive way to look at the expression, and to use the sentiment.

It’s awfully easy, though, for me–and I imagine lots of other folks–to slide into the negative side of that platitude: “You can’t do anything about it, so don’t even try. Resign yourself to the way things are.” I don’t necessarily think that’s the way the expression was really meant.

So maybe this post is just me reminding myself: There almost always is another way, if you can just find it. Shou ga aru.