A Country Where “Ri” Is Enough

Japanese is often described as one of the hardest languages to learn.
Not because it’s impossible—but because it’s full of small traps.

First, there are three writing systems: kanji, hiragana, and katakana.
Kanji alone can feel like a lifetime project. The same character may have multiple readings depending on the context, and even native speakers occasionally pause and think, “Wait… how do you read this one again?”

Then there is the habit of omitting information.
In English, a sentence usually needs a subject.

“I ate lunch.”

In Japanese, the same conversation might go like this:

“もう食べた？”
“うん、食べた。”

Translated literally:

“Already ate?”
“Yeah, ate.”

Who ate? What did they eat?
Japanese people simply know from context.

But the real adventure begins with abbreviations.

Japanese has an extraordinary ability to compress words.
Smartphone becomes “sumaho.”
Snowboard becomes “sunobo.”
PowerPoint becomes “pawapo.”

And recently, even “ryōkai” (understood) can become just one character:

“り” — ri.

Imagine explaining that to someone learning Japanese.

“Why does ‘ri’ mean ‘I understand’?”

“Well… it’s short for a longer word.”

“What longer word?”

“…You’ll figure it out.”

Even native speakers sometimes stop and ask, “Wait, what is that short for?”

And then there are onomatopoeia—words that imitate sounds or feelings.
Japanese uses them everywhere:

• doki-doki (a pounding heart)

• waku-waku (excited anticipation)

• moya-moya (a vague, lingering frustration)

Many of these don’t translate neatly into other languages. They describe sensations more than actions.

And of course, there is keigo, the system of polite speech.
Most Japanese people can use it, but if you ask them to explain the rules, they suddenly become very quiet.

“Why is this the respectful form?”
“Well… that’s just how it is.”

Yet despite all of this, many people from abroad come to Japan and learn the language remarkably well. After a few years, some speak Japanese so naturally that you forget they didn’t grow up with it.

Whenever I meet someone like that, I can’t help thinking:

“How much studying did this person do?”

Learning Japanese requires patience, persistence, and perhaps a slightly masochistic love of complicated things.

But it’s also a reminder that language is more than grammar.
It reflects culture, humor, and the subtle ways people connect with one another.

After all, there aren’t many places in the world where a single character—
“り”—can carry an entire conversation.

© Zatsudan Literature