"Be the American that Japanese people think you are." I've seen this sentence on your feed a thousand times. And every time, the replies ask the same thing. "Okay, but what DO they think we are?" Fine. I'm Japanese. I'll tell you. Honestly. Here is what Japan thinks Americans are. Every single one of them is true. That's the problem. WE THINK: Americans are loud. WHAT WE SAW: An American tourist in Kyoto walked past an old monk sweeping leaves outside a temple at six in the morning and shouted "GOOD MORNING!" like they were old friends. The monk is 70. He has swept that path for forty years. No one had ever said good morning to him. He said it back. He says it to everyone now. In English. WE THINK: Americans smile at strangers for no reason. WHAT WE SAW: My friend finally asked one why. A man at a gas station in Iowa. He thought about it for a second and said, "In case somebody needs one." WE THINK: Americans are terrible at geography. WHAT WE SAW: A man in Tennessee once asked my coworker whether Tokyo was the capital of Japan, or the other way around. Two years later, an earthquake hit my coworker's hometown on the Japan Sea coast. That same man found the town on a map in four minutes, mailed a check, and taped the map to his refrigerator. It's still there. He still isn't sure about Tokyo. WE THINK: Americans all think they're the main character. WHAT WE SAW: Yes. You walk into a room like the music just started. But the second a stranger drops a bag of groceries in a parking lot, five Americans come sprinting in from off-screen like extras who have been waiting their whole lives for this scene. WE THINK: Americans can't use chopsticks. WHAT WE SAW: My uncle watched an American man fight a bowl of ramen in Osaka for twenty minutes. He lost every round. When the old owner finally brought him a fork, the man shook his head. "No, sir. Your house, your rules." He kept fighting. The owner gave him free dumplings. Nobody gets free dumplings from that man. WE THINK: Americans are way too confident. WHAT WE SAW: A twelve-year-old in Texas told my friend's son, "I'm going to the NBA." Then he looked at my friend's son, who was Japanese and four-foot-nine, and said, "You are too, bro." That boy is now on his high school basketball team in Japan. He is five-foot-two. He still believes it. We blame Texas. WE THINK: Americans will talk to anybody. WHAT WE SAW: An American woman sat next to my neighbor, Mrs. Kondo, on a train in Tokyo and talked to her for forty minutes. About grandchildren. About knees. About nothing. Mrs. Kondo had not had a real conversation with a stranger since her husband died. She missed her stop by two stations. She says it was the best mistake she made all year. WE THINK: Americans cry way too easily. This one, I have to tell you properly. Every summer in Japan, there is a national high school baseball tournament at a stadium called Koshien. It's sacred to us. And when a team loses, the players kneel down on the field, and scoop the dirt into little bags to take home. Last summer, my uncle was in the stands for a game. The team from a small town lost in the last inning. The boys were crying. The stands were silent. That's how we do it. We hold it in. Next to my uncle sat a huge American man in a St. Louis Cardinals cap. He didn't know the rules. He didn't know the teams. When the losing boys knelt down and started scooping up the dirt, he turned to my uncle and asked, "What are they doing?" My uncle's English is not good. He did his best. "They take the ground home. So they don't forget." The big man looked at the field for a long moment. Then he put both hands over his face and cried. Out loud. In the middle of a silent Japanese stadium. Shoulders shaking. Then he stood up. Alone. And he started clapping for the team that lost. My uncle has never cried in public in his life. He's 74. He told me that when he touched his face, it was wet. Then the man on his other side stood up. Then the row behind them. Then the section. My uncle said he understood something that day. "He cried for the whole stadium," he told me. "So the rest of us didn't have to pretend." So, America. We think you're loud. You are. We think you smile at strangers for no reason. You do. We think you cry too easily. You do. Please don't stop. Be exactly the Americans Japanese people think you are. It turns out we were right about you all along. We just didn't know it was a compliment.