Getting Nihongo Jozued: When Good Japanese Backfires
And the overzealous doctor who wouldn't let up
I had intended on continuing with my series on Maizuru-yama, but this got the better of me! Enjoy!
“Buntingu Timoshee”.
“Ah, hai”.
I was led into a bright room with a what looked like a dentist's chair in the centre, a doctor at a computer, and a few people in scrubs standing around seemingly preoccupied but with gleaming eyes that followed my every move. The doctor was sitting half-looking at his computer, half waiting in anticipation for the patient with the foreign name.
I take a seat, and say to the doc, in Japanese:
”I’ve had problems with my sinuses these past few months. My left nostril and ear especially, and especially when I wake up. I went to another doctor, a few times now, but the problems kept coming back. So I’ve come to you.”
And then it happened.
I mean, I was half-expecting it, what with it being my first time in this clinic and all. But even as a 15-years-a-gaijin, it can still be a shock to the system:
“Nihongo Ojozu Desu ne” (Your Japanese is very good!)
I got Nihongo Jozued. Again.
I mean, to be fair, my Japanese has to be pretty good. What have I been speaking these past 20-odd years? The people around me seem to understand me.
And so they should.
I mean, I’ve interpreted for Gold-medal-winning Olympic champions, local mayors, book authors, magazine reporters, not to mention countless master yamabushi.
At least I think I have…
But still, after my second Nihongo Jozu for the week (I’m aiming for the trifecta), I made a grave mistake.
I gave the stock reply:
“Iya iya, mada mada desu”. (No, no, I’m not there yet! Not even close!)
Now, when you reach the stage of actually being Nihongo Jozu, you know the first thing to do is deny it. You know that if you say “hai, so desu”, people think you’re not actually Nihongo Jozu, and you are, in fact,
a smug asshole.
In other words, in Japanese culture, when someone compliments you, accepting the compliment at face value creates asymmetry. Asymmetry ruins the social harmony, the so-called Wa. Declining the compliment puts you all on a level playing field, right where you want to be.
Coincidentally, this is also where Nihongo Jozu’s cousin Ohashi Jozu (you are good at using chopsticks) resides. To which the only acceptable reply is: ‘you should see how I handle a fork, let alone a spoon!’
Both of these compliments (if you want to call them that) stem from the same thing: automated cultural scripts.
But, after a few years in Japan, and after being Nihongo Jozued a few thousand times, I realised something:
Nihongo Jozu is, in a way, a litmus test.
Just not in the way you think.
A few years back I was in Tokyo to meet a friend, a friend whose Japanese ability stopped at arigato. Yes, an arigato sans gozaimasu.
Now, you already know what’s coming. I don’t even need to say it. But let’s just say that when you’ve been learning a language for, I don’t know, 20-odd years, interpreted for Gold-medal-winning Olympic champions, local mayors, book authors, magazine reporters, not to mention countless master yamabushi, and then someone fresh off the Narita Express says but one word, a word sans gozaimasu, and the gets the exact same compliment, well, it’s only natural you start to question the compliment’s legitimacy.
Until you don’t.
Stay with me here.
When I said Nihongo Jozu was a litmus test, I meant that it’s a binary code, not a performance review. They aren’t grading your fluency. Not in the slightest. (Unless, of course, the Nihongo Jozu is decorated with a honto ni. In which case, congratulations, you’ve officially crossed into mythical territory!).
Nihongo Jozu is a simple ‘can you function in Japanese?’ versus ‘this guy has zero clue’. This is the same whether you are interpreting the philosophy of the mountains or simply dropping a lonely arigato not knowing it should probably have its best friend gozaimasu too.
You see, to a Japanese person, a foreign face screams: “English test incoming!” However, this tension is alleviated the instant a single Japanese syllable is uttered. ‘Nihongo Jozu’ isn’t praise. It simply means “thank you for making me relive my 15 years of torturous English vocabulary and grammar study while simultaneously taking away any worry I had of actually having to, Kami forbid, use the language!”.
And that’s it.
That’s why you shouldn’t get angry at someone else getting the same compliment for something they learned in a guidebook that you spent 20-odd-years trying to master. (I still distinctly remember practicing how to say arigato gozaimasu over and over, it is so much longer than its English equivalent!).
So why, then, was my stock reply to Nihongo Jozu by my doctor a mistake? Why was it a mistake to deny my Japanese ability?
Well, because the doctor took it literally.
Despite hearing me explain my symptoms in (ahem) flawless Japanese, and knowing full well that I could understand his Japanese, not to mention going so far as to compliment me on my Japanese, he insisted on speaking in English.
And not good English either. Good enough to understand, sure. But probably not passable for an English examination.
The funny thing is though, there was a clear moment I started to not understand his English, and not because of his accent. No, it was because he started to use medical terminology I couldn’t understand.
Which, to be honest, is actually much better in Japanese.
Case in point:
If you say ‘sinusitis’ in English, you know it’s something to do with your sinuses, right? Like your nose and stuff. But if you say it in Japanese, 副鼻腔炎 Fukubikuen, ‘auxiliary nose cavity inflammation’, the meaning is much clearer. I mean, I didn’t realise we had an auxiliary nose cavity, let alone inflammation of which is sinusitis.
So, I had to stop the doctor and say “Nihongo demo daijobu desu yo” (you can tell me in Japanese), to which he replied:
“I can speak English”.
Yes. Yes you can. Ok. Have it your way. But your English is too good, and I don’t mean that as a compliment!
Bonus
I have a white British friend who has a Japanese wife. Whenever the cashier (inevitably) only looks and talks at his wife, he stops them and says, in fluent Japanese, “Sumimasen ga, kanojo wa nihongo ga hanasemasen” (Excuse me, but she doesn’t speak Japanese).
I actually wrote about this exact topic 3 years ago!
Here’s a really good (short) video on this topic, but make sure you watch to the end! Those Kyoto people get me every time!!!
Daily Yamabushi Posts for June 19 to 25, 2026
Here are my Daily Yamabushi posts for the past week. Get more Daily Yamabushi posts at timbunting.com/daily-yamabushi. Discover more Japan essays and daily insights in the Kiwi Yamabushi Substack Archive, or follow my writing over on Medium.com.
This was both hilarious and weirdly illuminating. Your explanation of Nihongo Jozu as less a compliment than a kind of social “thank God I don’t have to use English now” signal made so much sense.
I have to admit that whenever I say I’m Spanish while there and someone immediately throws a “hola” or “cómo estás?” at me, I always reply with “スペイン語を上手ですね.” Until now, I had mostly thought of it as a small act of revenge. After reading this, I may have to start interpreting it a bit more generously.
Calling nihongo jozu a binary signal rather than a performance review explains a lot of interactions that otherwise feel strangely dismissive. The doctor scene is especially good because the automatic script stops being harmless once it interferes with actual communication. Your friend telling the cashier that his Japanese wife does not speak Japanese is a perfect reversal of the assumption.