It's so hard to say goodbye

This is the problem with Japanese. You can memorize the two alphabets and 2,000 characters just as well as you can memorize anything. Pronunciation and grammar are simpler than any romance language. And people know right away that you aren’t a native speaker and often adjust to your level. Like the nice older couple from Shikoku we met while we were swiveling in the tall orange Jacobsen chairs at the National Art Center.

They sat down nearby and started chatting with us. Just the usual. Where you from, why do you speak Japanese, how long have you been here? They turned back to their own conversation. They got up a few minutes later and bowed, and I bobbed my head and muttered.

This was the very day I was celebrating my good score on the Japanese language proficiency test. I had been deemed proficient, and by a hearty margin. Jim threw me a curveball. “How do you say ‘goodbye’ again?”

Hmm. Goodbye. Goodbye. That should be an easy one. He saw I was thinking way too hard and looked, understandably, like I was holding out on him. Why couldn’t I just answer, for Pete’s sake? “What did you just say to those people when they left? I just want to know the word for ‘goodbye.’”

The fact is, I wasn’t sure. Since they were strangers and much older, “ja, mata,” or “ja ne” seemed way too informal. Ditto an elongated “bye bye,” used a lot by younger people. If I had been the one walking away, “shitsureishimasu” or “shitsureishimashita” would have felt right, but seemed a little off since they were the ones leaving. The well-known “sayonara” seems to have the sense of wrapping things up, and we hadn’t talked enough to have anything to wrap up.

I admitted that I had actually not been sure what the right way to say it had been, and I’d punted with “domo,” an all-purpose term that can stand in for “nice to see you,” “thank you,” “welcome,” or “very much.” And, I hope, “goodbye.”

Don’t even think about asking me how to say “you.”

Is it possible to have a passing grade revoked?