A Treasure Trove of Nihongo

𝑨 𝑻𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝑵𝒊𝒉𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒐

Several weeks ago, while scanning Facebook Marketplace, which I occasionally do for items of interest, an ad caught my eye. It offered a Rosetta Stone Japanese course for a mere $10. Knowing that a new course costs at least sixty or seventy times as much, I expressed my interest but did not hear anything back till yesterday when I had forgotten all about it. The message from the seller confirmed the price and suggested that the transaction be completed at a Giant store 30 miles (45 kilometers) away. It had been raining all day, and the weather was gloomy, overcast, and awful, but I could not pass up this opportunity to acquire a tool that could enhance my Japanese language skills for conversations with Japanese amateur radio operators.

So off I went in slippery driving conditions, reaching the destination in about an hour. Entering the Giant store I looked around for the seller but none of the customers seemed to be looking around for a buyer. Just then a ping on my phone announced a message which read: “Rosetta Stone. My mother will be at the entrance of Giant. Black leggings and black sweater. Pink glasses.” The pink glasses were hard to miss. There she was – a kind-looking, white-haired lady. After a brief but pleasant introduction, she opened the bag to show me the Rosetta Stone course. It was still in its original yellow box – unopened. What was more, there was also the pair of headphones that was in its own blister pack unopened.

“Are you sure about the price?” I asked warily.

“Yes, whatever my daughter told you,” the kind lady replied.

“She said $10.”

“Then $10 it is!”

I couldn’t believe this windfall. But I was also curious about the unopened state of the box.

“You never gave it a shot?” I asked as gently as I could.

“It was my husband who bought it. Work took him to Japan twice,” she replied.

I couldn’t restrain my curiosity. “Did you get a chance to go to Japan?” I asked.

“Oh, yes! I went twice too. But both times I traveled on separate flights. I bought my own tickets separately.”

Then, seeing the puzzled look on my face, she added. “He was working for the government, and we wanted to avoid any possible allegations later.” I wished others today would have a millionth of the principles she and her husband had but I did not voice it. Nor did I ask her which government agency or department her husband had worked for.

Instead, I said “I’ve been to Japan twice too myself. How did you like Japan?”

“The people were so polite and courteous. So respectful. Such a beautiful place!” she gushed.

“I’m hoping to improve my spoken Japanese. You see, my hobby is amateur radio, and I get to talk to fellow hams from Japan via radio.”

‘That’s nice. I hope you will find this useful.”

“I’m sure I will,” I replied gratefully.

She seemed to be about to add something more but held back. I thought it best not to press the matter and ask why her husband had never opened the box or whether he had traveled again to Japan. Some stones are best left unturned.

“Would you be interested in any of these?” she asked abruptly, raising the distinct yellow Rosetta Stone package to reveal what lay below.

My astonished eyes beheld a Berlitz “Japanese in 30 Days” course, a Berlitz phrasebook and CD, a Webster’s Japanese-English dictionary, a Periplus pocket dictionary, the books “The Essential Guide to Customs and Culture” (Culture Smart), “Eyewitness Travel – Japan” (DK), and “Japan Made Easy.”

My mind boggled at the sight. “What’s the price?” I blurted out.

“These are included in the price,” the lady replied with a smile. “It’s there on Facebook. You can take any or all of them,” she added.

“I will take them all gladly!” I said with gratitude. “And I hope you will accept an extra $10 which is all the cash I have on me right now.”

She graciously accepted the offer. The transaction completed, we parted.

The fog that had descended in the late afternoon did not bother me one bit as I drove back home.

Reaching home, I sent a thank you message to the seller, the lady’s daughter, closing the message with, “Arigatou gozaimasu!”

Without a doubt, I had hit pay dirt or struck the mother lode or whatever else you may want to call it.

Now, to take my Nihongo to the next level.