The Beautiful Dissociation of the Japanese Language
When I tell people around the world that I've been living in Japan for over a decade, many look both impressed and mystified at once. The place has a good reputation. Some folks are in awe at the temples and the gardens, others at the nature or the food. The extreme tidiness and civility of the local culture are the target of universal admiration. But many of those same people see the local language as an almost impenetrable barrier, a world of pain that one must go through in order to be allowed to live here. I must be so patient and smart, they think. But I (begrudgingly) have to tell them that it's not entirely true.
The thing is (I tell those people) the language is part of the wonders of the place. It was the biggest charm for me in the first place. It's complex, yes, but it's rich and quirky and different. In particular, a whole realm of consciousness exists in the sphere of Japanese speakers that's perhaps truly unique in the world, more so than the sushi and the nature and decorum. It even allows for new literary techniques that are unimaginable in any other language.
I've always wanted to explain that realm, to show what a strange and mind-bending world is accessed by learning Japanese. It feels almost impossible. In this rather long and winding post, I'll try anyway. I'll do my best to convey something that's damn near untranslatable. Whether this is a rabbit hole you want to tumble down with me, that's up to you.
