Lost in Translation

I once had a lovely class of little old Japanese ladies who I used to teach every Wednesday morning at a school on the outskirts of Tokyo.  The ladies were really there to socialize – treating the class like a coffee morning which created a delightful atmosphere.  I was invited to join them for lunch one afternoon and gladly followed them to a traditional Japanese restaurant around the corner from the school. 

They treated me with the utmost respect: seating me at the head of the table and pouring my beer for me with the fingers of one hand supporting the base of the beer bottle – a very courteous act.  I responded by raising my glass to the group of smiling ladies and said, ‘Chin chin!’ to enhance my Englishness – immediately the ladies, as if with a practiced synchronized move, all looked down at their plates and an awkward silence sucked the atmosphere from the room.  I was baffled.  The meal never really recovered from my faux pas – whatever it was. 

As soon as I got back to the school, I told the Japanese staff about what had happened, and they too looked a bit embarrassed while they laughed.  Just so you know, ‘Chin chin’ might be an old way of saying ‘cheers’ in many countries, but in Japan the words are what children use to describe male genitalia.  Not something you want to shout across a table of little old Japanese ladies at the beginning of lunch.   By Delv