Corndogs for Breakfast

I was in a homestay program in Japan for five weeks after the summer of my sophomore year. Though I spoke Japanese well enough to survive, there were occasionally moments where the finer aspects of the language were opaque to me. Usually I could pick up what was being said from context, and thankfully most questions that people asked me involved nodding or shaking my head, and responding, "Mm." Despite my reticence, my host mother and I developed a close relationship, and we had fun conversations while watching primetime TV. When you try to picture primetime Japanese television, envision "Most Extreme Elimination Challenge" on Spike TV. We understood each other pretty well on a larger scale, but as I said, sometimes the semantics were problematic. One night, while we were watching two men in animal suits play air hockey as the host proclaimed his excitement in a high-pitched voice, our conversation turned to American food. Unknowingly, I planted the seed for one of my better moments in Japan when I told her my favorite foods.

I walked into the kitchen the next morning and sat down at my place at the table. My host mother removed a plate from the microwave and plunked it down in front of me. I stared at it, disbelieving. A corndog lay on the plate, golden and greasy. I was delighted. My host mother, trying to make me feel more at home, had purchased corndogs especially so that I might have one for breakfast. I felt distinctly at that point that I was in a foreign country, but it was a beneficial miscommunication. Corndogs for breakfast? Brilliant.

My host mother hovered, looking concerned as I chomped on my corndog. "Oishii?" (Tasty?) she asked. "Sugoku oishii!" (Incredibly tasty!) And I finished off my corndog with flair. I have therefore come to the conclusion that sometimes miscommunications have better results than regular communication ever could. I never would have considered eating a corndog for breakfast, but now that I've done it, there's no logical reason not to keep doing it. By not knowing all of the aspects of my culture, my host mother opened my eyes to new possibilities that my knowledge of my culture had kept me from. And for this valuable lesson, I salute you, host mother! And corndogs, too!

For another person's mishaps and experiences in Tokyo, see Tokyo Girl.