“Joanne-san, Joanne-san..” Certain I had heard my name being called, I looked up and scanned my surroundings for a familiar face. I was in a cramp changing room, surrounded by women of different ages in various states of undress. Seeing no one I knew - and really, who was I expecting to meet in a remote mountainous hot spring - I went back to undressing.
“Joanne-san…” Whipping my head up quicker this time, I traced the voice to a young female attendant who was searching the crowd. Hesitantly, I approached her. Running through the five Japanese sentences I knew, I gave a tentative “Hai? Watashi wa Joanne-desu.” (Translation: “Yes? I am Joanne.”)
Relieved, the attendant broke into rapid Japanese. My eyes widened and quickly glazed over. Praying for a miracle, I used the only other sentence I knew. “Nihongo wakarimasen. Eigo?” (Translation: “I don’t speak Japanese. English?”) Noting the panic on my face and high-pitch squeak, the attendant searched her vocabulary. Pointing to the door and using her fingers to encircle her eyes in the universally understood sign for spectacles, she said “boyfriend?”
As it turned out, I had forgotten to take a towel to the onsen and if not for Zhaowei’s intervention, would probably have had to shake the water off my body.
