Lesson 1: Survival Glue & Repair

sumimasen does three jobs. (1) Excuse me — before approaching a stranger, squeezing past someone, or getting attention. (2) Sorry — for small social friction: blocking an aisle, taking someone’s time. (3) Thank you for the trouble — when someone goes out of their way for you. When in doubt, sumimasen is almost never wrong.

Said loudly across a room, this exclamation summons staff. It feels rude to English speakers — it isn’t. It’s the correct way to get service in Japan (more in Lesson 5).

ohayou gozaimasu — good morning, until mid-morning.

Konnichiwa.

konnichiwa — the daytime default, through the afternoon.

Konbanwa.

konbanwa — after dark. With ohayou gozaimasu (morning) and konnichiwa (daytime), three greetings cover the whole day — and nobody minds if your switchover time is off by an hour.

sayounara is a real goodbye — leaving your hosts, parting from someone you spent the day with. Leaving a shop or restaurant, you don’t need it: arigatou gozaimasu on the way out does the job.

arigatou gozaimasu — always the full five-word-feeling chunk, never a clipped “arigatou.” The short form is casual register, and this course never gambles on register: the full form is correct with everyone, everywhere.

gomennasai is the personal apology — you stepped on a foot, knocked something over, made an actual mistake. For mere social friction (interrupting, squeezing past), sumimasen is the better fit.

hai is yes — crisp and frequent. (Careful: when a Japanese listener says hai, hai while you are talking, it doesn’t mean yes — it’s just “I’m following, go on.”)

Iie.

iie is no — said softly, often with a small wave of the hand.

daijoubu desu is the traveler’s Swiss-army answer: I’m fine, it’s okay, no harm done — and, crucially, the polite no thank you when offered something you don’t want.

douzo offers and yields: handing something over, holding a door, waving someone ahead.

Doumo.

doumo is the light thanks that answers douzo. Together they make the smallest complete exchange in Japanese — someone hands you your change, douzo; you take it, doumo. You’ll hear this hand-off a hundred times a day.

onegaishimasu turns a point into a polite request. Point at a pastry in the case — onegaishimasu. Hand a taxi driver a written address — onegaishimasu. Slide your passport across the hotel desk — onegaishimasu. On its own it means “please take care of this”; later lessons put words in front of it, but bare + pointing already covers an enormous amount of ground.

wakarimasen — the honest reset button. Said with a smile, it invites the other person to try another way (slower, simpler, gestures).

The repair kit is a ladder, and this is its first rung — again. Didn’t catch what someone said? Mou ichido onegaishimasu — hear the whole thing one more time.

Yukkuri onegaishimasu.

The slower rung, when a plain repeat still flew past: Yukkuri onegaishimasu — same words, slower this time. That’s all it asks for, and all it buys; when the problem is the words rather than the speed, you want the next rung.

Yasashii nihongo de onegaishimasu.

The simpler rung, for when the sentence arrived full of words you don’t know: Yasashii nihongo de onegaishimasu — trade the hard words for easy ones. Its real strength is that it explains itself — yasashii nihongo is literally “easy Japanese” — so it works even with someone who’s never heard the term. It also happens to name a real plain-Japanese initiative that city halls, hospitals, and disaster workers are trained in, so it lands especially well in those places; with an ordinary clerk or driver it simply works as plain words. The most likely response isn’t puzzlement but a switch to English — usually welcome, though if their English is thinner than your Japanese, just ask again. Memorize the phrase whole — yasashii (“easy / kind”) isn’t a word you’ll build other sentences with, just this one.

Yasashii nihongo de, yukkuri onegaishimasu.

The slower and simpler rungs snap together — and in the field, this combined ask is usually the one you want. A real person asked to slow down tends to simplify a little too; this sentence requests both, honestly, in one breath. If you drill one repair line until it’s fully automatic, make it this one.

Kaite kudasai.

The paper rung changes the medium: when even simple-and-slow won’t land — or the answer is a number, a time, a name — Kaite kudasai, get it in writing. Numbers and times written on a receipt or a palm need no Japanese at all. (Writing has a limit of its own — an answer written in kanji is a wall in a different place. Lesson 2 hands you the tool for that one.)

The ground floor beneath the whole ladder: a disclaimer you drop before someone starts talking, so they scale their Japanese down from the very first sentence instead of the second. Memorize it whole for now — nihongo (Japanese), wa, chotto, dake, and wakarimasu each get taught as their own piece in later lessons.

Sumimasen. Nihongo wa chotto dake wakarimasu. Yukkuri onegaishimasu.

The full preemptive opener — the chunks you now own, snapped together: sumimasen (attention), the little-Japanese disclaimer, and the “slowly, please” rung. Deployed up front, it heads the fast reply off before it ever happens.

Eigo, daijoubu desu ka.

The other preemptive move: ask whether you can switch languages entirely. eigo — English; this borrows daijoubu desu (which you already have) plus a questioning ka. Honest expectations, though: outside hotels and tourist spots you’ll often get a polite iie — then the ladder (again, slower, simpler, in writing) is your reliable path.

Wakarimasen. Keitai o misemasu.

The terminal rung of the repair kit, for the moment the rest of it has failed: they repeated it, they slowed down, easy Japanese didn’t help, and English got a polite no. Declare the switch — Wakarimasen. Keitai o misemasu — then open your translation app. It’s a statement, not a request: announcing the move is what keeps the exchange polite and alive while you type, instead of leaving the other person watching you go silent at a screen. (keitai — phone — is properly taught in Lesson 4, and misemasu — I’ll show — in Lesson 7; until then, memorize the line whole like everything else here.) For a short-trip traveler this is the rung you’ll most likely actually land on — which is exactly why it lives in Lesson 1. The move also runs in reverse: tourist-facing staff increasingly produce a translator device of their own — when one appears, don’t be thrown, just speak into it, short and simple. Same rung, their ladder.

The accept answer to any yes/no offer. A bag? A receipt? Shall I heat it up? Whatever was just offered, this takes it.

Iie, daijoubu desu.

The decline answer — waves the offer off, politely. Together with hai, onegaishimasu it handles nearly every yes/no offer in Japan; you’ll use the pair constantly from Lesson 3 onward.

Hai, douzo grants a request or hands something over.

Sumimasen. Onegaishimasu.

Sumimasen + onegaishimasu — attention, then request — is already a complete transaction when paired with a point.

tasukete — Help! Memorized whole and shouted, this is for a genuine emergency — someone collapses, you’re in danger, you need strangers turning their heads right now. It is not the everyday word for “help”: asking someone to help with a bag, a ticket machine, or directions starts with sumimasen, never this. Save the cry for the moment that needs it, and it will carry.