Telling Jokes in Japan

Lost in Translation, Found in Laughter (Things That Matter #3)

Recently, I spent a week and some change traveling throughout Japan with my family. I mean, why wouldn’t my favorite way of experiencing another culture include bringing my loud American children while asking the locals to teach us their ancient ways?! We covered a lot of ground. We saw temples, ate local cuisine, walked 57 miles a day since my wife planned the trip, and bowed more times than a Catholic at mass.

I’m no cultural expert, especially when it comes to Japan, but I do know this: when a deer walks up to you in Nara and bows before it robs you of your rice crackers, that’s a different level of respect. It’s majestic, it’s humbling, and has a way of making you rethink your life choices. I mean, that deer locked eyes with me like a country boy locks eyes with the guy slicing roast beef at the buffet in a Golden Corral. Game on. Then the deer bowed like, “You know what to do.” So, I fed it.

I don’t know if I’ll ever be back, but Japan is interesting. It’s the kind of place where the streets are so clean you start wondering if you’re the problem. I dropped a crumb and felt like turning myself in. The trains are spotless, the stations smell like serenity candles, and the public bathrooms are cleaner than my kitchen counter after a panic-clean before guests arrive.

And the trains I just mentioned? Quiet. Peaceful. Reverent. Like a moving monastery where you can still access your wifi. You so much as clear your throat and 12 heads turn like you just cursed an emperor. But here’s what stood out the most: humor. Laughter is still powerful. Laughter still works. Even halfway around the world, even when you don’t share a language, a good joke still lands. And I tested this theory extensively, because if I’m gonna embarrass myself and my family internationally, why not do it in good ol’ bilingual fashion?!

Every taxi ride kinda became a pop-up comedy club. I sat in that front passenger seat like I was headlining a short show with a driver who had no idea what was coming. I used Google Translate like it was my co-writer. It was freakin’ amazing! I typed in the setup, hit play, and let the AI Japanese voice build the suspense. She did a pretty good job, too. Then BAM! I typed the punchline, hit play again, and waited. It was like ventriloquism, but more international and slightly more robotic.

And I’m telling you: it worked. Sometimes, it killed. One cab driver was crying laughing. Which, I realize, in retrospect, is not the ideal state for someone operating a moving vehicle with your entire family in it. But if I’m going to perish in a cab crash, what better way to go than by telling a solid one-liner about Michael Jackson?!

My poor wife, who, of course, always has to hear my jokes, is a tough audience of one. She’s rarely impressed when I “write” jokes, but loves when I make on-the-spot jokes. Humor has been one of the keys to a marriage of almost two-and-a-half decades. I mean, to be fair, she’s the unwilling Netflix test audience for all my bits. I can tell a joke that gets 3 standing ovations and a Ted Talk offer but she’ll say, “Meh, not really that funny.” Which is usually accurate but also annoying as crap. Lol.

But on this trip, one cab driver gave me some backup. After laughing so hard she nearly had to pull over, she turned to my wife and said, through her broken English, “Your husband is very funny!” And in that moment, I felt seen. Yes! I felt like I’d finally earned the elusive five-star marriage review. Did you hear that, babe? Did you hear that kids?

What I’m getitng at is this: comedy can be a universal language if used right. It’s no different than music, or smiling, or pretending you know how to use chopsticks correctly in public. You don’t have to speak the same langauge to share the same laugh. That connection, that joy, that is something everyone understands.

I didn’t record these moments. I didn’t film them or write them down. I just let them happen. And honestly, I’m glad I did. Because it was a reminder that comedy, at its core, isn’t just about bits and punchlines, it’s about people. So much of it is about creating a moment together that feels light, human, and weirdly beautiful, even if it’s with a cab driver you’ll never see again and a translation app that pronounces your punchline with the emotional depth of an ATM. (By the way, after a few tries, I let the app tell the setup, then I started saying the punchlines. That made it even better.)

So, I guess I’m writing this to share with others but also as a reminder to myself: don’t wait for a perfect room, perfect mic, or perfect crowd. Those don’t exist. Find the funny wherever you are, even if it’s on the other side of the planet with a deer demanding crackers and a cab driver ready to lose control of the wheel. Because laughter travels. It crosses borders. And sometimes, it’s just you, your family, your phone, and a stranger in a Toyota Noah van driving through Kyoto laughing like you’ve known each other your whole lives. And that’s the best!