The 'Nude' Misunderstanding"

Let me tell ya'll, I've had some pretty wack-a-doo moments happen while traveling, but this one, hands down, takes the cake. So let's rewind a touch, I am not, by any stretch of the imagination, a language whiz. It's been a long running joke in my family that my tongue is about as flexible as a wooden plank when it comes to foreign languages. Is it embarrassing? Hell yeah it is. Enough to make me change my ways? Absolutely not.

So cut to the summer of 2017, I'm in Japan for the first time, navigating my way around Tokyo like a headless chicken. Now, I was aware that the Japanese are polite people, no newsflash there. What I wasn't prepared for, was the matrix-level gymnastics my brain would have to perform to keep up with the alien-like sounds that was their language.

I'm doing the typical tourist drill: ramen, sushi, visiting all the must-see spots. But a trip to Japan ain't complete without hitting up one of the traditional teahouses. I walk in, taken in by the elegance, everything so quaint, so beautiful, so... quiet. Then my stomach decides to play the '1812 Overture' as loud as it can. Embarrassing, but no biggie. I mentally run through the three Japanese phrases I know, ready to order something to shut up my grumbling belly.

"Namasu," I say confidently, pointing at the menu. Polite laughter from the sweet old lady taking my order, other customers giggling. Hm, weird. But I chalk it up to my butchered pronunciation, pat myself on the back for trying. Food arrives. Good God. It's raw, sliced fish. Not terribly unpleasant, but not exactly the feast my hungry stomach had in mind.

Throughout my meal, the laughs continue. Polite, soft laughter that I join in while carefully nibbling on my raw fish, trying not to look like an uncultured swine. "Namasu good," I say, wanting to be polite too, and oh boy, you'd think I was Jim Carrey in his heyday the way everyone doubled over laughing.

Turns out, 'namasu’ meant thinly sliced raw vegetables and fish seasoned with vinegar. I'd essentially walked in, loudly announced I was going to eat raw food with the enthusiasm of someone who'd just discovered fire, and then proceeded to massacre the pronunciation. Turns out I'd been saying it like ‘na-Maa-suu?' which, in the Kansai accent, could come off like asking if they had nude photos. No wonder I got so many laughs.

When I finally discovered this, when a friendly local took pity and explained it all to me, I nearly died of embarrassment right there. But to be fair, I’ve been remembered ever since as the jovial foreigner who unabashedly announced he came for the ‘nudes’ in a serene Japanese tea house.

Ah, the joys of cultural misunderstandings and language blunders. Never a dull moment, I tell ya.

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