Loek van Kooten, MA
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loekalization.bsky.social
Loek van Kooten, MA
@loekalization.bsky.social
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Loekalizing your games from and to Japanese, Chinese, Korean, English and Dutch. Portfolio: Shadow Gambit: The Cursed Crew, F1® 2023, Syberia: The World Before, Arma 3. Owner of www.loekalization.com Developer of www.c4ttitude.com (a CAT tool).
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Remember: every time you laugh in Japanese, you're basically bamboo with a punchline. NOTE: Our stories are not simple mnemonics, but based on true etymology.
Or this crime novel gem: おかしな手紙に行き当たる。 Okashina tegami ni ikiataru. You come across a weird letter. The plot thickens. So does your brow. So yes, when Japanese schoolkids learn 笑 in 6th grade, they're not just memorizing a kanji: they're unlocking the secret to elegant chaos.
Enjin no oto ga okashii to omoimasen ka? Don't you think the engine sounds weird? The word here is okashii (可笑しい): "funny," but in the "I think my blender is possessed" kind of way. It's laughter's awkward cousin: equal parts creepy and comedic.
Kare no jōdan ga amarini mo omoshirokute, minna ga hara wo kakaete waratta. His joke was so funny, everyone laughed while clutching their stomachs. You know it's serious when organs get involved. And then there's the ever-suspicious: エンジンの音がおかしいと思いませんか。
The original version even had 口 (kuchi, mouth) in it, but apparently, the Japanese scriptwriters of yore decided that was too obvious. Why show the mouth when you can imply it with sexy bamboo legs? Now, behold 笑 in action: 彼の冗談があまりにも面白くて、みんなが腹を抱えて笑った。
Historically, this kanji started out just describing thin bamboo, but somewhere along the linguistic path, people went: "You know what's also thin and unpredictable? A laugh." Thus, 笑 was born.
Up top we have 竹 (take): bamboo. Down below, 夭 (yō): a slim, supple figure. Together? A slender bamboozlement. That's right: someone smiling so gracefully their mouth becomes a narrow reed of Zen-like smugness.
Why Laughter Is Basically Slender Bamboozlement

Today's kanji is 笑 (warau), and yes: it literally means to laugh. But this isn't just any laugh. This is the elegant, bamboo-skinny, haute couture of kanji giggles. Let's dissect this visual punchline.
"Tourists are buzzing with excitement as they snap photos." Then remember: You're not just sightseeing. You're participating in a centuries-old tradition of radiant national showmanship. Fire on, 光. Fire on.
It wasn't just a flex: it was branding. A mission to show off Japan's brilliance to the world, one bow and bowtie at a time. So when you, dear tourist, snap a selfie in Shibuya like: 「観光客たちが興奮しながら写真を撮っている。」 "Kankōkyaku-tachi ga kōfun shinagara shashin o totte iru."
In 1855, the Dutch gifted the Edo shogunate a fancy Western gunboat. Its name? 観光丸 (Kankōmaru). Not "USS Friendship" or "Peace Paddle." No: "Tour the Glory." Subtle. Later, statesman Iwakura Tomomi scrawled "観" and "光" at the top of his diplomatic travel diary.
"To observe the light of a nation is to befit an audience with the king." Basically, early tourism was royal PR with better snacks. In fact, the first known use of 観光 wasn't on a travel brochure, but on a warship.
But 光 really gets its glow-up in 観光 (kankō, tourism): a term that didn't come from English "sightseeing," but from classical Chinese philosophy. Specifically: 「観国之光,利用賓于王」 "Guān guó zhī guāng, lì yòng bīn yú wáng."
It's the star of words like 日光 (Nikkō, "sunlight" and also a legit vacation spot), as in: 「2、3日なら、箱根か日光がいいと思います。」 "Futsuka, mikka nara, Hakone ka Nikkō ga ii to omoimasu." "If it's just two or three days, I think Hakone or Nikkō is a good idea."
Structurally, it's 火 (fire) sitting on top of 儿 (a walking person), making this kanji the spiritual cousin of Ghost Rider: except instead of vengeance, it spreads radiant joy in all directions. Or sunburn. Your call.
Meet 光 (hikari or kō), the kanji that asks: "What if a person... but on fire... and fabulous?"
You're welcome." So whether it's rain, IPA, or the Mongol Empire, 忽 is the kanji of the unexpected. One second, nothing. The next? Tachimachi: it's already history.
"In Tōno City, craft beer made with hop cones is super popular with tourists." And just when you think we're done: surprise Mongol invasion! Say hi to 忽必烈汗 (Fuburai Han), aka Kublai Khan: the man who took 忽 global. As in: "I suddenly conquered China and started the Yuan Dynasty.
Yes, that fragrant little cone that turns beer from sad bread water into hoppy bliss. 遠野市では、忽布の毬花を使った地元産クラフトビールが観光客に人気を集めている。 Tōno-shi de wa, hoppu no kyūka o tsukatta jimoto-san kurafuto biiru ga kankōkyaku ni ninki o atsumete iru.
"The sky darkened and BAM: torrential rain like nature hit 'rage quit.'" But 忽 isn't just a ninja verb particle. It also moonlights in beer: 忽布 (hoppu), the Japanese spelling of hop, straight from Dutch.
Kaji no shirase ga todoku to, jūmin-tachi wa tachimachi hinan o hajimeta. "As soon as news of the fire arrived, the residents instantly began evacuating." 空が暗くなったかと思うと、たちまち激しい雨が降り始めた。 Sora ga kuraku natta ka to omou to, tachimachi hageshii ame ga furi-hajimeta.
Gone before the popcorn's out of the microwave. That's why 忽 lives its best life in 忽ち (tachimachi): your new favorite word for "in a blink," "out of nowhere," or "OH GOD WHY IS IT RAINING." 火事の知らせが届くと、住民たちはたちまち避難を始めた。
That visual mess turned into the idea of vagueness, which became "don't," and eventually the kanji version of your finger wagging "nah-ah." Combine the two? 忽 = a heart too distracted to notice what just happened. The vibe? Sudden. Unclear.
Now, let's crack it open. The left side is 心 (kokoro, heart). The right is 勿 (botsu), which once looked like a flag tangled up in fluttering streamers. The kind that flap so wildly you can't see what's behind them.
忽: The Kanji That Disappears Mid-Sentence and Takes Your Beer (and Mongolia)

Say hello to 忽 (kotsu), the kanji that disappears so fast, you're still apologizing to it hours after it's gone. It's what happens when your heart spaces out and the world keeps moving: tachimachi.