On Mindings Japanese Ps and Qs (Ls and Rs)

A long-standing and unfortunate joke among foreigners in Japan is the laughter aimed at the struggle among many Japanese to differentiate between the pronunciation of L and R.  Curried rice becomes curried lice, made all the worse because the word for lice (shirami) sounds too much like a white speck of meat.  As a child, I would avoid ordering curried rice in restaurants if they misplaced the l and r.  Not having seen lice, I assume they were white and squiggly, looking too much like grains of rice.  Granted, rice is not squiggly, but if it moved I'm sure it would wiggle and not crawl--or so my child-logic deduced. 

When I really need to relax, when books and chocolate don't do the trick I locate the folder of Buddhists chants on my laptop and sit back and soak up the gentle rhythm.  My goal is to take in and on as much of the monks' state of mind, peaceful and calm.  Largely monotone these chants, I let myself go, deep into my version of meditating.  Which is why on one such login looking for the chants that would surely induce serenity, I instead started laughing.  In all these years, it never occurred to me mixing up the l and r in this one particular song would make "Buddhist prayer" into "Buddhist player."  Very, very different things.  Perhaps you had to be there.  I didn't find much om that day.  Too much giggling.

On a recent trip up north to the Tohoku region to continue my work as a volunteer auntie, the preschool children serenaded me with a new farewell that, to this day, has me confused.  Long ago having learned shapes, we make hearts to each other with our hands.  "I like you very much" I always say, the kids grinning back at me, shy and pleased.  Having said my farewells for the day, I was about to head out, waving and calling out "See you!" when I hear a girl say what sounds like "Rub you."  Others chime in, and soon the room is filled with the collective voice of kids saying, "Rub you!"  I stop.  Are they saying, "Love you"?  I can't tell.  If they are, this is huge.  Like is a safe word.  Like a lot is also okay.  But, love is reserved for the super special.  I'm not convinced three-, and four-year olds know how to confess those words reserved for lovers and the most treasured.  The tots don't let up though and I must respond.  I quickly make a heart with my hands again, hoping they'll know this time I mean "love" and not "like" but uncertain altogether.

I vow to resolve this conundrum on my next visit by teaching them the word love, seeing if that triggers in them the reaction, "Oh!  A new word!" or a "Pffft.  We knew that one."  We'll work on the difference between r and l also, all to make sure their curry is edible and their love doesn't always include a rub.