In the late 1980s, after settling into my job at the factory, I started feeling the need for new intellectual challenges. It was around that time that I stumbled upon a self-study Japanese language textbook by Lavrentiev, and without a second thought, I dove into it. Back then, there were no Japanese language courses, no audio recordings, and no native speakers in Yekaterinburg, so I had to figure out pronunciation by myself. Despite the lack of resources, I immersed myself in learning the written aspects of the language.
I began collecting every available dictionary and textbook I could find. My passion for the language led me to scour local bookstores, purchasing whatever materials I could get my hands on. Whenever I visited Moscow or Leningrad, I made sure to stop by second-hand bookstores to expand my collection. By the early 1990s, I had built up a rare and impressive collection of textbooks, dictionaries, and audio recordings, something that most people couldn’t even imagine.
The Japanese language, with its intricate writing system, fascinated me. It was more than just a language—it felt like I was unlocking a complex puzzle. The writing system consists of around 2,500 kanji (Chinese characters used in Japanese writing) and two syllabic alphabets, hiragana and katakana, each with 50 characters. To decipher a kanji, I would first look for the key element within the character, then count the remaining components. Using a dictionary, I would figure out its pronunciation and meaning. For me, learning Japanese was like engaging in cryptography—an exciting challenge.
I pushed myself to finish the Lavrentiev textbook within a few months and even started translating texts. My first major opportunity came just before the May holidays when I asked the factory’s technical translation department for a Japanese text. I worked tirelessly during the holidays and managed to produce a translation that was considered acceptable. Not long after, the Chamber of Commerce and Industry (TCCI) offered me more texts to translate, providing a steady stream of work. The pay for translating Japanese was double that for English, which made it an appealing side gig.
As I continued to improve my skills, I took on more complex projects, including scientific and technical translations. I even bought an electric typewriter to speed up my work and learned touch typing. While working on my PhD dissertation, I kept translating Japanese texts, focusing mainly on chemical terminology, which piqued my interest.
Two major developments in the late 1980s and early 1990s expanded my opportunities to learn and use Japanese. In 1989, a Japanese language group was established at the Polyglot Language Center in Yekaterinburg. The instructor, Tsvetkov, wasn’t a professional teacher but had extensive knowledge of the language. His informal teaching approach helped me and my classmates further develop our skills.
Additionally, in 1990, a Russian language group for Japanese students was created at Ural State University. This was a golden opportunity for me to practice speaking Japanese with native speakers. I quickly became friends with the Japanese students and began conversing with them in Japanese, while they practiced their Russian with me. This exchange was invaluable in improving my conversational skills.
By the early 1990s, I had gained not only a deep understanding of Japanese but also become an active member of the growing community in Yekaterinburg who were passionate about Japan and its culture. My commitment to mastering Japanese opened many doors, particularly in translation services, and laid the foundation for future professional interactions with Japanese companies.
My experience with the Japanese language began with self-study and gradually developed into work in translation. It’s a small example of what curiosity and steady effort can lead to, especially in a time and place—post-Soviet Russia—where opportunities to access foreign languages and cultures were limited.