Japanese and Americans express themselves through cultural protocols that share few similarities. The differences feel profound at times.

One such difference is how smiling and laughing are used to buffer potentially unpleasant situations.

Japanese often, for example, deliver bad or sad news—even the death of a loved one—with a smile or even a laugh. Although the distinction may not be obvious to us, this type of smile differs from one expressing genuine mirth. It instead serves to keep one from distastefully imposing private personal feelings on others. It allows the speaker expression without intimacy. It sets up a suitably opaque screen between one and others without lessening friendship.

It has surprising benefits. When spoken of within the context of a smile, disasters seem less oppressive. It combats chronic negativity, maybe because it's hard to stay blue when you're radiating a gentler emotion to those around you, who respond in kind, preventing you and everybody else from taking things too personally or seriously.

Besides, an openly sad expression might unintentionally signal sympathy seeking. A reserved and stoic people, the Japanese seldom seek sympathy.

After getting used to this manner of expression, I found it easier to bring up my misfortunes (foreigners in Japan have plenty) without putting people off. Interlocutors became less standoffish.

One variation of this, the self-deprecating story, became a part of my repertoire. I learned the comedy of stories told with a laugh at my own expense: the more hilarity from the audience, the better. Everybody (who was liked) did it and it was a lot of fun. Importantly, it suits the type of modesty essential to being Japanese.

The other day I was reading the October/November 2006 issue of Scientific American MIND. One article, called “A Look Tells All,” had a lead that went “A person's face will always reveal his true feelings—if, like Paul Ekman [a renowned researcher of facial expressions], you are quick enough to recognize microexpressions.”

I would like to change that to “... if, like Paul Ekman and the Japanese, you are quick enough to recognize microexpressions.”

Sometime in my first months in Japan, a friend's mother, to whom I owed much, asked me if I would help her son's family move. Before I knew it, she was already telling me, without any apparent disappointment, that I didn't have to help if I didn't want to. She seemed to have read my mind. I was shocked and embarrassed.

What had happened was that, because I disliked moving, a look of reluctance ever so briefly passed over my face. An American would have waited for me to say something. She, however, had in Japanese fashion taken my facial expression as my answer. To do otherwise would have been to force me to say no. Japanese are loath to say no.

Though I would have said yes (I think), I had inadvertently completed the exchange with my facial expression.

I learned several lessons that day:

1. Japanese consideration of others is sincere,
2. I had better take care to conceal thoughts and emotions I didn't want revealed by controlling my facial expressions,
3. Non-verbal communication is an important part of “speaking” Japanese correctly, and
4. Non-verbal communication plays a crucial role in courtesy.

Americans seeking to establish smooth business relations with Japanese firms and clients should have a grasp of the differences in service between the U.S. and Japan.

Service in Japan is exemplary.

My impression of service workers in the U.S. is that they are friendly and easy-going—but seldom committed. Good service is spotty, inconsistent. People sometimes don't seem well trained for their jobs. American customers either accept or are resigned to this. Do not expect such a strategy to bring you anything but grief in your dealings with the Japanese.

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I am pleased to announce that Green Leaf has established a base of operations in the Oregon/Washington area of the Pacific Northwest. Currently, inquiries may be made by e-mail. I will post an office phone number upon acquisition.

After moving back to the U.S., and even before I could settle in, clients in Japan began sending work. For a while, my office consisted of a laptop and anywhere I could find free Wi-Fi, such as coffee shops and even the public library.

I look forward to helping people in the U.S. as well as Japan with their Japanese-to-English translation needs.

I am pleased to announce the launch of the new Green Leaf web site. The design and components are now sharply focused on my message, that Green Leaf collaborates actively with clients to improve translation quality and productivity by applying our 5-step process.

Converting from Xoops to HTML also let me condense the site from about 20MB to just a few thousand KB, freeing space for e-mail and FTP exchanges of large files such as image-intensive documents and high-resolution PDF.

The success of this project depended crucially on the services of the professionals at Word Jones and James L. Turner Graphic & Web Design. I told them what I needed, and they gave it to me, while offering pertinent advice and ideas on how to better convey my message.

Why is it worth it to spend the time and money on a truly high-quality translation process? Beyond the obvious answer that you get what you pay for, there are specific benefits that go beyond just the actual translation of any document.

Correct communication
Miscommunication forces you to go back and re-do work. It draws out dialog and negotiations. It creates frustrating human relations. Correct communication eliminates these problems, streamlining your work and contributing to tighter operations. This directly relates to...

1. Enhanced productivity
With high-quality translation, time and money are spent effectively on creating a useful document, not wasted on a document that will prove useless. Operations proceed smoothly because problems with the document don’t occur. And you devote your time to your own job, not to time-consuming damage control.

2. Enhanced credibility
A poor document puts your credibility at risk. Readers wonder if they can trust it, or if you know what you’re talking about. An accurate, well-written, purpose-appropriate document gives the reader confidence in its contents, enhancing your credibility.

On the “Nature of Translation” page of this Web site I introduce the concept of the Translation Time Bomb—a poorly translated document that eventually and inevitably explodes, costing a company time, money and aggravation. Let me explain a bit more about this concept...

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Due to extensive ongoing work projects in Japan, Green Leaf has decided to postpone its move to a U.S. office until later this year.

In creating this site, I decided to include client testimonials. The two Japanese clients I asked graciously provided their views, which are currently posted in Japanese. Both insisted that I keep their names and companies confidential.

Despite having no native Japanese word for privacy, the Japanese are extremely private. Place of employment is just one example of private information. Ask an American where he works, and you’ll learn the name of his company. Ask a Japanese person and you might receive only a general answer, such as "company employee," but no company name. Watch the other Japanese with you. Without proper cues, no one will pursue it further.

Japanese culture has all sorts of devices for protecting privacy, many of them lingual. During discussions, they may grow vague or silent about something we wouldn’t hesitate to reveal, leaving us puzzled. If you’re interested in Japanese culture, you can always ask why some particular topic is private. But, since your interlocutor takes it for granted, you might not get a clear answer.

Be sensitive to the privacy needs of your Japanese clients. If vital information is not forthcoming, there may be unspoken reasons for this. Work steadily, but patiently, for it. Trust is a hard-earned commodity in Japan.

I began this project by developing articles I thought would rid people of any preconceptions about Japanese-to-English translation being a straightforward process. It’s not. Any of the many translation programs available online will immediately prove that.

Next, I tried to present the articles attractively. I did some simple HTML coding, and spent a lot of time doing it. Then Xoops, an open source tool for creating web sites, was recommended to me. It lets you compose a Web site using modules for different functions, such as an article module and blog module. This system does not, however, let the novice easily change appearance and other settings, so you wind up with features and links that do not serve your purpose.

At this point, I turned to a professional for objective third-party advice on the writing and on the Web site itself. I was pleased with the editing suggestions, which I was able to implement without delay. The site suggestions were also outstanding—and beyond my current capabilities. It was brought home to me that my specialty is translation, not Web site development.