Language Barrier

I ran across these street lanterns during my first day in Japan. While I find beauty in their elegant, rhythmic patterns, I have no idea what they say. For me they represent how simple, ordinary things (like language) can make a huge difference in life. In the states, I am fluent, literate, and fully functional. However during my two weeks in Japan (my great-grandparents' birthplace), I was unable to ask for directions, exchange money, or even buy gum. My working vocabulary was 20 words (and that included the numbers one-through-ten and 'sushi'). From that experience, I developed a profound respect for my great-grandparents who immigrated to Colorado a century ago. What was life like for them – living in a strange land with a strange language, and no hope of going back? It must have been terribly isolating. I wonder how I would handle it. Could I still make a living as a writer without the cushy-comforts of English? Or would I have to work as a janitor, scrubbing toilets? It kind of puts life into perspective, doesn’t it?