Missed in translation

Keeping up with grandparents an ocean away 🗾

My mom is originally from Tokyo. In her mid-twenties, she married my dad, an American, and moved to his country to start a family. Since my dad worked for an airline, I was practically born into flight benefits. This was very lucky, considering my dear grandparents were across the globe, and we would’ve hardly seen them otherwise. We’d fly from Virginia to Japan every year in my childhood. We always went standby, but that’s no matter—flexibility was a small price to pay.

Our visits to Ojiichan (grandpa) and Obaachan (grandma) were typically in the summer and lasted about five weeks. They’d let us pile into the upstairs bedrooms while they temporarily moved into the tatami room and slept on futons.¹ Every morning, our noses would awake to Obaachan’s home cooked breakfast—usually a combo of rice, wiener sausage, veggies, and miso soup or her famous jam with milk bread from the neighborhood bakery. Ojiichan worked in his garden, day after faithful day, shuffling around in his sandals, tending to his bonsai and dazzling flowers. Sometimes he let us pick small fruits out front, enjoying what came from his labor.

We’d go everywhere with our grandparents, experiencing life in ways we wouldn’t back in the states. They took us to festivals, shrines, 100 yen shops, parks, the ocean, and so much more. They also helped me attend my mom’s elementary school one summer, and I think it made them proud. My favorite moments with them were usually back at their home, though, sitting at the dining table, eating and lounging around together. Unlike typical Japanese families with manners, we’ve got large laughs, and Obaachan’s might be the strongest of them all. Laughter doesn’t need translating, and that’s good news for relatives with language barriers.

I was bilingual enough as a kid, and at that age, when I didn’t know the right word or honorific, I had the luxury of being a young ハーフ (hāfu).² Over time, my Japanese fluency became rusty. Long distance calls to my grandparents grew awkward. My mom would interpret in my ear as I made some embarrassing, fumbling attempt at a response. They’d say, “Erichan wa nihongo ga jōzudesu!”³ when I’d try to speak, probably just happy to hear my voice.

After my dad switched jobs in my adolescence, we lost the flight benefits and I returned to Japan only a couple times before my last visit in 2011. Since that final trip, I’ve only seen Obaachan once, when she came to Florida for my sister’s wedding. Ojiichan can’t travel anymore, so I haven’t seen him at all. I was finally going to return to my beloved Japan in spring 2020, but the world was on pause by then and I had to give up my tickets.

Aside from several handwritten letters or a sparse call here and there, I didn’t get to talk to Ojiichan or Obaachan much through my twenties. But in 2021, when Obaachan finally graduated to a smart phone, she and I started to keep in touch via the LINE app. Every time I see a ping from her, I cherish it. We’ve also video called a few times, but she has to remember the right buttons to show her face. 😉

It’s been the best getting to connect with Obaachan as an adult. I’ll send her pictures of my family—all smiles and goof—and tell her stories of how Aaron has been too kind to me. She asks often for health updates, and reminds me to take care of myself. Once in a while, she’ll send pictures of Ojiichan’s latest blossoming flower, and my heart feels like a 花火 (hanabi).⁴ Every now and then, there will be a funny miscommunication I won’t try to clarify. It can cause more confusion, and then we get stuck in a question loop. “What’s the other thing, chicken breast? I don’t understand, I’m happy to see Erichan’s happy face. Take care.” Thankfully, she’s a good sport about it.

To lift my spirits this week, I scrolled through our chats, finding messages from Obaachan that are either precious or a funny Google Translate fail. Once I picked my favorites, I sketched a little portrait of her, combined it with text, and overlaid them on photos I took from my last Japan trip.

I hope, almost more than anything, to visit my grandparents this year. Until then, I will keep sending messages toward the Land of the Rising Sun and collecting more responses like the ones below. ❤️

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Obaachan says…

1. Obaachan is a most excellent cook. And she adores food. Before falling asleep, she thinks about what she looks forward to eating the next day.

2. Love how she offsets her annoyance with the emoji choices.

3. A mistranslation! She was telling me how much work is involved in growing flowers from seeds. But, you know what? This is true for kids, too.

4. So demanding, grandma. 😂 (TBH she just asked about my health and sent speedy well wishes—but the tone didn’t translate well.)

Other fun mistranslations:

• “I have a lot of happiness with my kind boyfriend.”

• “To avoid catching a cold, enjoy Christmas please.”

• “I’m feeling relaxed, I’ve started doing gymnastics…”

Very Obaachan-like sentences:

• “Everyone, grandpa is making flowers bloom, isn’t it amazing?”

• “Before I knew it, I was 80 years old. I’m really well, I just got back from playing tennis.”

• “You look happy. Don’t catch a cold, wear a mask, and fight off the coronavirus. 🎵”

• “Living alone is lonely, so please enjoy your new life.”

• “Don’t forget to take your medicine.”

Your turn!

Anyone else have family in another country? What are your funny translation mishaps? Do you have a grandparent who uses technology and if so do they only show their eyebrows on FaceTime? 🥰

Thanks for getting nostalgic with me today!
—E.T.

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PS.

📚 My top children’s books about grandparents:

A Grand Day
A Grandma’s Magic
My Day with Gong Gong
My Nana’s Garden
Ojiichan’s Gift
The Most Beautiful Thing

💬 I started using Substack’s chat feature so we can get to know each other better. I’ll start a new convo tomorrow, so be on the lookout!

1. A traditional Japanese room with tatami flooring, sliding doors, and typically no single purpose.

2. A term used to describe a half-Japanese person.

3. “Eri is good at Japanese!”

4. Firework. Literally translates as “flower fire.”