Japanese lessons and socks

So, I’m now doing, on and off, two Japanese lessons a week. Both are in their houses, so I have to take off my shoes when I enter. This is no big deal, but it does mean that on those days when I have Japanese I have to choose my socks carefully.

At the moment, in my bag along with my homework and a dictionary, is a pair of clean, hole-less socks which I will change into after I’ve washed my feet and then I can head out, confident that I will not cause offence on my arrival. On those occasions that I forget, a quick trip to a sock shop is needed or else I spend the lesson self consciously tucking my feet under my chair in a futile attempt at maximising the distance between my socks and her nose. Makes it difficult to concentrate on grammar. I've even gone to the trouble of buying new socks if I realise I have no spares to change into.

Meanwhile, in a recent lesson, my teacher and I were doing adjectives, and I asked what the Japanese for "simple" was. She said it was "shinpuru", シンプル, a loan-word from English. I was quite disappointed by this. If you go to all the trouble of learning a foreign language, it almost seems a shame when they start using large chunks of yours. Although, obviously, they had words for these concepts before English started influencing the language (the proper Japanese word is "kantan", 簡単, btw) it does conjure up some weird images of people in old Japan struggling to verbalise certain concepts. Like for "door" the Japanese say "doa", which brings to mind people saying "Don't forget to close the thing when you leave." "What - the window? The cupboard?" "No, the other thing. You know. The thing you walk through."

Tiny Manu #8

Actually, this is my Japanese homework. Translation follows...

Frame 1:
Mother: Today, we're going to make risotto.
Manu: Yes! That's right!

Frame 2:
Mother: First, we cut the vegetables.
Manu: Chop chop.

Frame 3:
Mother: We finely cut the onions.
Manu: I'm crying now.

Frame 4:
Mother: Chop up the potatoes.

Frame 5:
Mother: Add aubergines and apples.
Manu: Apple? Very interesting.

Frame 6:
Mother: Next, grate the cheese.
Manu: Cheeeeeeeese.

Frame 7:
Mother: Next, make the stock.
Manu: Of course.

Frame 8:
Mother: You must use delicious stock. It's important.

Frame 9:
Manu: THAT'S RIGHT.

Frame 10:
...

Frame 11:
Mother: Put the onion in a frying pan.
Manu: Of course.

Frame 12:
Mother: Cook the onion until it's brown.

Frame 13:
Mother: Add the stock and rice.
Manu: Finished!

Frame 14:
Mother: No, it is not finished.
Manu: Sorry. I did not know.

Frame 15:
Mother: Next, put in the potatoes and carrots.
Manu: Of course.

Frame 16:
Mother: Lastly, add aubergine and apples.

Frame 17:
Mother: Add the stock again.

Frame 18:
Mother: It takes fifteen minutes.
Manu: Right, I shall sing the risotto song!

Frame 19:
Manu: Risotto o atsumete

Frame 20:
Mother: But this is not the risotto song.
Manu: Really?

Frame 21:
Mother: It is "Kaze o atsumete". It's a very famous song.
Manu: It is my favourite song.

Frame 22:
Mother: Do you want to stir?
Manu: Yes! Thankyou very much!

Frame 23:
Manu: I am cooking!

Frame 24:
Mother: The risotto is done, so add cheese.
Manu: Cheeeeeeese.

Frame 25:
...

Frame 26:
Mother: Put it in quickly please.
Manu: I must be careful.

Frame 27:
Manu: There!

Frame 28:
Mother: Stir again.
Manu: Of course.

Frame 29:
Mother: There. It's finished.
Manu: Tiny Manu cooking!

Then there is a recipe for risotto, which I won't translate because there are better recipes out there on the internet, and at the end Manu is saying "Itadakimasu" which means "bon appetit!"

Regaining my Italian

I'd forgotten how boring Mondays in Turin are. A lot of shops are shut, especially in the morning. Anyone going to the shopping centre at the Lingotto would have been forgiven for thinking there was a war on.

Meanwhile, I'm happy that my Italian has stood up better than I thought. Although my friend's English hasn't. While speaking to her on the phone we tried to arrange to meet at a concert. I asked "Where?" twice and twice she misunderstood. I think she thought I said "yeah" the first time" and I've no idea what she thought the second time. It wasn't until I said "Dov'é?" that I got an answer.

Losing my Italian

So it’s been a year since I left Italy and despite occasionally watching my Italian DVDs or reading Oceano Mare, I’m clearly losing my command over the Italian language. The other day I sent an email to my ex in Italian and in the reply she pointed out all my mistakes, including using a slang term for the male member which I thought was a verb.

Rats.