Lesson 7: Requests, Reservations & Staying

[verb]-te kudasai. — “Please [do].”

This is the frame for asking a person to do something — and here is the most important thing about it: it is a list, not a machine. Exactly six requests exist in this course, memorized whole. Real Japanese can build this shape from any verb; you deliberately can’t, because six covers everything a traveler actually asks of a stranger, and everything else routes through X onegaishimasu (Lesson 5) or the permission frame below.

Matte kudasai.

matte kudasai — please wait. Lesson 6’s machimasu in request clothes. The taxi about to pull away, the group about to walk off, the elevator door.

Misete kudasai.

misete kudasai — please show me. The thing behind the glass, the photo on their phone, the room before you take it.

Tomete kudasai.

tomete kudasai — please stop. The taxi request. (Its cousin tomarimasu from Lesson 6 is the bus stopping; this is you asking the driver to stop.)

Kite kudasai.

kite kudasai — please come. Something’s wrong in the room, the vending machine ate your coins — lead a staff member to the problem instead of describing it.

Itte kudasai.

itte kudasai — please say it. Point at a word on a menu or a sign and ask to hear it — the spoken half of Lesson 2’s harvester move. (Yes, it sounds identical to “please go” — another itte. Pointing at the word is what pins the meaning; this chunk is never deployed bare.)

Kaite kudasai.

kaite kudasai — an old friend. You’ve deployed this since Lesson 1 as a repair chunk; now you can see the family it belongs to: the six -te kudasai requests, and there is no seventh.

Koko de tomete kudasai.

Lesson 4’s koko + Lesson 6’s de + tomete kudasai: the complete “right here is fine.”

Ano kaban o misete kudasai.

And with an object: ano (Lesson 2) picks it out, o hands it to the verb. The same object slot works for any request-chunk that takes a thing — misete, itte, kaite.

___, ii desu ka. — “Is ___ okay? / May I ___?”

The universal permission machine: name the thing — or just point at it — and add ii desu ka. English insists on a verb (“may I sit here, may I use this, may I pay by card”); Japanese politeness happily does without one. The point supplies the verb.

Kaado, ii desu ka.

Recognize it? Lesson 3 handed you this as an unanalyzed chunk. It was this frame all along — you’ve been using frame grammar since the konbini. (Don’t confuse it with Lesson 5’s X ga ii desu, which states a preference. Same ii, opposite direction: ga ii desu chooses; , ii desu ka asks.)

Koko, ii desu ka.

The café chair, the train seat, the spot at the counter. Touch it, ask, wait for douzo.

Kore, ii desu ka.

The umbrella by the door, the outlet under the counter, the sample on the tray. Whatever English verb you were reaching for — leave it home. Point.

Ashita, ii desu ka.

The slot takes times as happily as things. Shop’s closed today, the table’s full tonight — propose the alternative yourself.

Toire, ii desu ka.

Lesson 4 found the toilet; this borrows it — the polite ask in a small shop or café. The yes you’ll hear is hai, douzo; anything hesitant that isn’t douzo, take as a no and let it go.

Keitai, ii desu ka.

keitai — Lesson 4’s phone — in the permission frame: the polite ask before taking a call in a quiet shared space — a hushed café, a ryokan lounge, a waiting room. Hold the phone up as you ask and the sentence completes itself. (On trains, don’t ask: calls simply aren’t made there, as Lesson 6 said.) Careful, though — this asks permission to use the phone. Rescuing a failed conversation with the translation app is a different move: Lesson 1’s Wakarimasen. Keitai o misemasu., a declaration, not a question.

Now put the set to work:

Kyou wa kinyoubi desu.

Lesson 2’s plain old X wa Y desu, wearing a calendar.

Yasumi wa itsu desu ka.

yasumi — day off / closed day — with Lesson 6’s itsu earning its keep. Museums, ramen shops, that one bakery: ask before crossing town.

Nichiyoubi wa yasumi desu.

The answer you’ll get back to Yasumi wa itsu desu ka. — one day-name to catch, and you drilled all seven a minute ago.

Getsuyoubi kara doyoubi made desu.

Lesson 6’s kara/made, now spanning days instead of hours — exactly how opening days get stated.

Mokuyoubi, ii desu ka.

And today’s permission frame reaching into the calendar: when the day you wanted is full, propose the next one yourself.

Kayoubi desu ka.

kayoubi — Tuesday. The bare day-name plus desu ka asks which day it is.

Suiyoubi wa dou desu ka.

suiyoubi — Wednesday, offered up with Lesson 5’s dou desu ka when you’re the one proposing a day. That leaves the whole week said, not just listed.

Asa, ikimasu.

asa — morning. Lesson 6’s move, unchanged: the time word up front carries the when.

Hiru, gohan o tabemasu.

hiru — midday. Say those two nouns together and you’ve accidentally invented hiru-gohan — which is exactly the Japanese word for lunch.

Yoru, kaerimasu.

yoru — night. Yoru, kaerimasu earns its keep at small inns and guesthouses, which often lock the front door in the evening — saying it on your way out means the desk expects you back late.

Ashita no ban, resutoran ni ikimasu.

ban — evening — the ban hiding inside konbanwa. And note the move: parts of the day stack onto days with Lesson 2’s no — ashita no ban, kinyoubi no yoru, ashita no asa. That little no is about to build you a reservation.

Kono shuu, ikimasu.

shuu — week — with Lesson 2’s kono. (Natives usually fuse the two into one word; kono shuu is understood everywhere and stays inside your grammar.)

Ashita, nani o shimasu ka.

shimasu — do, the all-purpose verb — dropped straight into Lesson 6’s question machinery. This is how you ask about plans (never -tai desu ka — Lesson 5’s rule stands).

Yoyaku o shimasu.

yoyaku — reservation. A noun + o shimasu = doing the noun. Announce this at the desk and they’ll reach for the book.

Yoyaku ga arimasu.

And once it’s made: Lesson 4’s arimasu — have — does the check-in. Booking = yoyaku o shimasu; having booked = yoyaku ga arimasu.

Chekku-auto wa nan-ji desu ka.

chekku-auto — checkout, the loanword you’d have guessed (its arriving twin, chekku-in, works the same way). Lesson 6’s nan-ji frame pointed at the morning after: city hotels answer 10 or 11, traditional inns run earlier — and the answer shapes everything you plan before it.

Kaado o tsukaimasu.

tsukaimasu — use. When you’re announcing rather than asking, the verb comes out of hiding. (But “may I use this?” stays verbless: Kore, ii desu ka.)

Kaado o tsukaimasu ka.

Pointed at you with Lesson 6’s plain question frame — the register question without the keigo wrapping.

Hai, tsukaimasu.

The echo answer to Kaado o tsukaimasu ka. — question verb in, same verb out, the pattern that never fails.

Pasupooto o misemasu.

misemasu — show — the parent verb of misete kudasai, in plain clothes. Hotels must see the passport; hand it over before they ask and check-in speeds up.

Keitai o misemasu.

The map pin, the photo, the written address — Lesson 4 told you to show rather than say; now you can announce that you’re doing it. And with that, Lesson 1’s last-resort chunk unseals: Wakarimasen. Keitai o misemasu. was keitai (Lesson 4) plus this verb all along — the same declare-don’t-ask move as the passport, aimed at the translation app. Keep the two phone sentences straight: Keitai o misemasu declares the show (rescue), Keitai, ii desu ka requests the use (a call in a quiet room). Declare the show; request the use.

The crown jewel of this lesson: a dated, timed, sized reservation, and every atom in it is recycled — a day from today, no from Lesson 2, futari from Lesson 5, onegaishimasu from Lesson 1. Swap the day, the part of day, the headcount; the shape never changes. Works at the door — and if a phone call is unavoidable, the same sentence is your opener, with the repair kit standing by. (Honestly: book in person or online when you can; the phone is the one place your pointing finger can’t follow you.)

Koko, ii desu ka.

The seat-taking reflex. Hand on the chair, eyebrows up, say it — then douzo means yes.

Kore, ii desu ka.

The all-purpose permission ask. Point first; never mind the missing verb — the finger is the verb.