Arigatou, Ikura, Sumimasen

I got lost in Shibuya trying to find a restaurant that wasn’t on Google Maps. The small street I turned down had no English signs—not that I expected them, but standing there the reality hits different. I said sumimasen to someone outside a shop, and they understood. They pointed, I went, and something shifted in how I felt about being there.

Japan is advanced until you need to communicate. The major cities have English on signs and menus. Most Japanese people speak English, but it’s wasei-eigo—Japanese English—which is its own dialect entirely. The pronunciation is Japanese-shaped, the grammar is Japanese-shaped. If you’re not used to it, you can’t always understand. It’s faster to just know a few words that always work.

Arigatou is the obvious one—thank you. Everyone learns that. Ikura is how much, which matters if you’re buying anything. Sumimasen does everything else. You say it when you bump into someone. You say it when you need directions. You say it to get someone’s attention. It’s an apology, a thank-you, a question all at once. It got me through most of a week.

There’s something about trying a language that isn’t yours, even just a handful of phrases. It changes how you move through a place. You’re not a tourist pointing at things. You’re someone who showed up and made the effort, however clumsy. Japanese people noticed. They were patient with me. The accuracy didn’t matter as much as the fact that I tried.

I learned maybe ten words before I went. Enough to order food, ask directions, apologize. Enough to not feel completely helpless in Akihabara or wandering Harajuku. I don’t remember most of them now. But I remember the feeling when a phrase landed, when someone understood what I was trying to say. That mattered more than I expected.