Another Christmas has come and gone.

[insert here: long story about familial dysfunction]

[insert here: long story about physical malady]

[insert here: long story about holiday traffic]

So, with that crap out of the way, I can get on with what was good about Christmas this year.

At the top of my list is a lunch that I had with Aydika, her mother, and her mother’s boyfriend. We were driving down to Eugene, Oregon, to spend Christmas Eve with Aydika’s sister, and we all agreed to meet up for some chow along the way.

I was asking Aydika’s mother, who is Japanese, about some Japanese customs. We had gotten onto the subject when I busted out with some of my (very) poor Japanese.

Here’s a little tip from me to you: If you’re a stupid white guy who wants to get some conversation going with Japanese people, then just whip out a “koneecheewa” or something. Guaranteed, you’ll butcher the word so badly that the Japanese people present will do anything to avoid having to speak directly about what you’ve done to their language, and this can lead down some interesting conversational roads.

After saying something like “Watashi wa takosu desu ka?” (this means: “Am I an octopus salad?”) Aydika’s mother quickly changed the subject to greetings in Japan.

What I learned, and I’m still reeling from the pleasure that arose from the acquisition of this information, is that a traditional greeting in Japan goes something like this…

[Scene: A small home in a Japanese village. Guest arrives at the door to home and is greeted by his host, a Japanese man. Conversation follows.]

Host: Welcome to my home. It is small and ugly.

Guest: Your home may be small, but I imagine that sunlight falls pleasantly through its windows during the summer.

Host: I would rather kill myself in a ritual suicide than agree with that remark. Please come inside.

[guest enters home, following host]

Host: This is my wife. She is stupid.

Guest: Your wife may be stupid, but she looks to have the strength of ten oxen.

Host: You flatter her. I would also like you to meet these pigs, my children.

Guest: They look well fed. They will grow to be strong.

Host: If I do not kill them by my own hand!

And so on.

The general pattern is this: The host says something “humble” about his life, and then the guest counters it with cheerful little platitudes.

The crazy thing is that the embellishment here is very minor. I was laughing (in a culturally respectful way, of course (got to keep HR off my back)) for about three hours after hearing this.

Summarized, the traditional greeting is this: “Hey. How’s it going? This is my dump, my stupid wife, and my pig-children. Come inside. Let me get you a cup of coffee. If it’s too dirty for you in here, then just let me know and I’ll commit hari-kari.”

I called Chris to tell him about this, but he didn’t think it was very funny:

Of course. Their culture is grown up and mature compared to ours, still crawling on its hands and knees in its swaddling clouts, barely a pace from its mother’s swelling, nursing teat. I would expect the various social interactions among the people of Japan to represent the complexity that might arise from elaborate traditions that have been handed down through the generations, year after year, as they have in the country which flies its flag of the rising sun. By the way, can you tell me how to make C# go “beep”?

I was a little bummed at Chris’s maturity here, and so decided to share the tidbit with you, counting on your relative lack of sophistication to pull the story through.

Enjoy.