Tea Color, Blue Traffic Lights, and the Poetry of Japanese Colors
While explaining the word brown in Japanese, I noticed something interesting.
Brown is 茶色（ちゃいろ, chairo, tea color）.
茶（ちゃ, cha, tea） means tea, and 色（いろ, iro, color） means color.
Literally: tea color.
But when I think about Japanese tea, I think of green. 緑茶（りょくちゃ, ryokucha, green tea） is probably the most famous tea in Japan.
Then again, there are teas like ほうじ茶（ほうじちゃ, hōjicha, roasted tea） and 麦茶（むぎちゃ, mugicha, barley tea）, which are both brown.
Historically, roasted teas and barley tea were everyday drinks for ordinary people, especially in the summer. So perhaps when the word 茶色（ちゃいろ, chairo, tea color） became common, the color people associated with tea was actually closer to brown.
Speaking of colors — Japanese colors can be surprisingly difficult.
When I was young, I couldn’t understand why the traffic light in Japan was called 青（あお, ao, blue）, even when the light itself clearly looked green. Later, my children struggled with the same idea.
But 青（あお, ao, blue/green） in traditional Japanese covers a wider range than the English word “blue.” It historically included what we would call green today.
That is why you still hear expressions like:
青々としている（あおあおとしている, aoao to shite iru, lush and vividly green）
It describes the deep, healthy green of grass or leaves — even though the word 青（あお, ao） literally means blue.
In modern Japanese, green also has its own word: 緑（みどり, midori, green）. But older expressions using 青（あお, ao） are still very much alive.
So how we define colors is not purely visual, it is also cultural.
When I was in primary school in America, there was a big box of crayons with more than one hundred colors.
I was fascinated by the names:
Periwinkle. Tangerine. Sea-green.
Once you moved beyond the small eight-color box, suddenly there were so many more possibilities for your picture.
Japanese colors also have beautiful, often poetic names.
Recently, at a 100-yen shop, I found a box of twelve “Japanese colored pencils.” The colors were:
墨色（すみいろ, sumiiro, ink black）
鳶色（とびいろ, tobiiro, kite-brown / reddish brown）
栗色（くりいろ, kuriiro, chestnut brown）
緑青色（ろくしょういろ, rokushōiro, verdigris green）
青磁色（せいじいろ, seijiiro, celadon green）
露草色（つゆくさいろ, tsuyukusairo, dayflower blue）
瑠璃色（るりいろ, ruriiro, lapis-lazuli blue）
菖蒲色（あやめいろ, ayameiro, iris purple）
牡丹色（ぼたんいろ, botan-iro, peony pink）
紅色（べにいろ, beniiro, crimson red）
杏色（あんずいろ, anzuiro, apricot orange）
金茶色（きんちゃいろ, kinchairo, golden tea brown）
Many of these names come directly from nature.
For example, 紅色（べにいろ, beniiro, crimson red） is the traditional red color used for things like 鳥居（とりい, torii, shrine gate） and also the bright red Japanese post boxes. It is not quite the tomato red often used in the West — it carries a warm hint of orange.
And 墨色（すみいろ, sumiiro, ink black） is not the absolute digital black of a color code like #000000. It is the softer black of calligraphy ink, 墨（すみ, sumi, ink）.
Some colors capture a very specific moment in nature.
For example:
若草色（わかくさいろ, wakakusairo, young grass green）
The color of fresh spring leaves, that brief moment when everything feels new again.
Recently there has been a Color Hunting Challenge on social media.
So here is a Nihongo-yoku version.
Look for Japanese colors in the world around you.
Maybe 桜色（さくらいろ, sakurairo, cherry blossom pink） — a softer, more delicate pink.
Or 抹茶色（まっちゃいろ, matcha-iro, matcha green） — deeper and richer.
How white is the white of snow?
Or perhaps you want to invent your own colors.
Post your discoveries and join the hunt.
Use #NihongoYokuColorHunt and tag @youraccount so I can share your beautiful finds.
Because once you start looking closely, the world suddenly has far more than eight colors.
