I would like to take a brief moment to describe the complicated process that is ordering a medium cup of coffee to go in Japan. Please keep in mind that these are only my “Gaijin” (foreigner) observations as a Stranger in a Strange Land...
I walk into the well-lit Starbucks looking local coffee shop in Kyoto, Japan. Three Japanese Barista’s, each wearing impeccably clean uniforms, complete with Eton collars look up and immediately yell many nice sounding sentences, one of which includes the words "hai" (yes) and "Kon Ni Chi Wah" (Hello). After this barrage of pleasantries, I walk up to the first clerk’s register, and I look down at a menu that has Japanese and English written all over it. Thanks to the colorful pictures placed next to each word, I can clearly see that a medium cup of “American Coffee” costs 160 Yen (roughly $1.25 US). I point at this picture, and I say, in my best faux Japanese accent; "Ko Neeee Cheeee Wah, Hottto Ko-Heee, Oh Meee Gassheeyy Nas!" (Hello, hot coffee, please)! Despite my cheerful smile and bright tone of voice, it is clear that the Barista does not understand a single word that I have just spoken. I instantly, for the ten millionth time on my trip to Japan, imagine my college friend who repeatedly flunked Japanese class, and I blush, due to the overwhelming karma that I am currently experiencing, due to my relentless jokes about his failure to pass an introductory linguistics course three times. I am now quite positive that I would have failed the same course, and probably more times than he did. Pronunciation and diction are everything in this language, and if one syllable is off, you can change the course of meaning from "hello, how are you?" to "I want to murder your family."
Needless to say, I am walking on eggshells by even trying to express myself in words. So I do the 'right thing' and I shut my big dumb American mouth and point again at the coffee, and say "M" which stands for medium. He vigorously nods his head, and spews another twenty Japanese words at me, all the while pointing out the window, which I assume is his attempt to ask me if I want to take the coffee to go. I’m glad that he has asked me this, and I nod, pointing out the window, to finalize my order; one medium cup of hot coffee to go.
Now completely understanding my wishes, he says “Hai” (yes) about four more times, as well as “Arigato” (thank you), plus about five million other words that mean nothing to me and don't even sound like the stereotypical childhood impressions of Japanese that I remember hearing on the playground when I was growing up. Still trying to leave the impression that not all gaijin Americans are incapable of trying to understand foreign cultures (Are you reading this, President Bush?), I continue to beam my brightest smile, and I say "Arigato, hai, arigato, hai!" (Thank you, yes, thank you, yes!) At this point, I’m being extra careful, and I want to be sure that he's sure that I'm sure, that I'm sure that he's sure that we agree on what I'm ordering.
Now that we’ve settled this matter, The Barista pulls out a small napkin, takes out a plastic stirrer, folds the napkin neatly over the stirrer, and then presses the fold (origami style), thereby creasing the napkin into a bag form, and rendering it unsanitary. Then he places a small creamer and a straw capped and filled with sugar on the napkin, turns around, fills up the coffee, caps it, pulls out a bag, puts the coffee cup in the bag, places the napkin-stirrer-envelope creation, sugar straw, and creamer in the bag, folds the bag over exactly four times, creasing each fold, each time, with as much care as a Wall Street executive would take in ironing their expensive dress shirt for work, and then he folds the corner of the last fold over so that it creates a triangle. Still smiling, he then turns the bag so the triangle faces me, and says another mouthful of unrecognizable pleasantries, and then smiles and waits for me to put the money I owe him in a tray in front of me.
For once, I have been given a set of instructions that even I can follow. So I put two one hundred yen coins in the tray, and stand back, proud of my accomplishment. He then makes change, all the while saying “hai” and “Domo Arigato” (Much thanks). And no, he does not at any point say “Mr. Roboto,” sorry to disappoint any Styx fans out there. It has now literally been five minutes, and his task is finally complete. He hands me a receipt and my change, and then pushes the bag towards me, one more time, just to be sure that I'm aware that in the bag, somewhere, is the medium cup of hot coffee to go, you know, the same one that I ordered about five minutes ago. I say “Arigato” one final time; just to be sure that he's sure that I'm sure that I got what I wanted, and that I'm thankful for the coffee, the gift wrapping, and most of all, for his elegant courtesy. I do not tip him, for to do so, in Nippon (Japan), would be rude and insulting, so to compensate for my guilt, I say arigato again, but for every one arigato I say, he reflexively says four arigato’s and three hai’s (Or is it three arigato’s and four hai’s?), making it clear to me that I will never be able to out duel him in the contest of who is more grateful for the process that is ordering a medium cup of coffee to go.