Posted in Linguistics at 12:08 am by Benjamin Ross
So you read my last post and now you’re motivated. You’ve been intimidated a long time, but now that you understand Chinese is only difficult in the beginning, you’re ready to make the jump and begin your studies. What’s next? Maybe you should……take a class……right? Wrong!
I’ve often observed that when eager students are choosing to embark on the study of a foreign language, the natural inclination is to take a class. Learn the language in the classroom, then possibly go abroad (or start a new career) to put it to work. So the logic goes. What is ironic is that in my experience of both teaching and studying foreign languages in both the US and in China, never once have I met an individual who had a firm command of a foreign language and could attribute their skills in large part to classes. Not one! This is not to say that classes are completely worthless, but rather that they are, in a word, inefficient.
There are certain types of learning which are ideal for a classroom setting. Learning a language is not one of them. Mastering a language requires intensive practice as well as fine tuned adjustments, which need to be catered to the individual based on their own individual strengths and weaknesses. An environment with a single teacher and a classroom full of students is simply not conducive to this kind of activity since the teacher’s attention is spread out evenly among the mass. While the classroom setting can be helpful in some particular aspects (i.e. reading , explaining grammatical constructs) it has been my experience that a less formal (and more personal) approach to language learning is both more efficient and enjoyable than hours spent in the classroom. As a former teacher of many ESL classes, I have noticed a distinct pattern with students who have achieved superior English levels. The majority of their learning has occurred outside of the classroom. Those who confine their learning to the classroom (regardless of how hard they study) tend to teeter on mediocrity. Chinese is no different.
In the following post, I am offering ten ways to study Chinese which I believe are all more efficient uses of your time and efforts than formal classes. Next to each method, in parentheses, is a rough level estimate at which the method should start to become useful. These methods never expire so to speak, so an item marked “beginner” would still be useful to an advanced student, but not vice versa. None of these suggestions are not golden tickets in and of themselves, and any prudent study plan will consist of a combination of methods, tailored by an individual to his own style. Try them out, see what works, devise your own plan, and please feel free to add any suggestions in the comment section below.
Before we begin, you’ll notice that the majority of the points appear to be contingent on you actually living in China. This is about 85% true, and somewhat intentional. An absolutely necessary prerequisite to learning any foreign language is an appropriate language environment. The easy way to accomplish this is to move to a country where your language is spoken. I recognize that not everybody who wants to learn Chinese can move to China on a whim. Living outside of China does not necessarily mean that it is impossible to immerse yourself in a Chinese environment. It just means you might have to force it a little bit more, mainly by making Chinese friends and using the Internet. But that’s fodder for a whole different post. So without further adieu, here we go.: 10 ways to study Chinese which which more useful than going to class.
1. Find a Formal Language Partner (beginner)
Before we get any further, I want to make absolutely clear that my statements above apply to classes, as in a learning environment with a single teacher and multiple students. They do NOT apply to individual lessons and tutoring which can be of enormous benefit. For a prime example, consider the process of mastering Chinese pronunciation, which I maintain is both the most difficult and most vital aspect of beginning Chinese instruction. Mastery of Chinese pronunciation, especially tones, cannot be done alone. You can’t learn it from a book and you can’t learn it by mimicking audio recordings. Although I’ve never tried it myself, I’m willing to bet you can’t learn it from Rosetta Stone or any other kooky miracle software either. Why not? Because unless you were exposed to tonal languages before puberty, your brain is not hard wired to create nor decipher the four tones used in spoken Mandarin. What you need is a personal trainer, a native Chinese speaker to model, listen, and criticize for you the tones, vowels, and consonant sounds necessarily for your Chinese to be intelligible. Naturally, this process is virtually impossible in any classroom setting with more than two or three students. And it is accomplished most efficiently in a one-on-one setting. I could go on for pages on this first point, but let me just leave it at this. One-on-one classes language classes are infinitely more useful hour for hour than any class with multiple students. It’s simply a matter of resource distribution.
Now, I know what you’re thinking. One-on-one tutoring is expensive. You can’t afford it. Chinese may be a valuable skill but it’s not worth taking out a second mortgage to pay for daily tutoring sessions…Hogwash!
By virtue of reading this post, you are in possession of one of the world’s most sought after commodities. You are a speaker of English, the most in-demand language in the world. Throughout the planet there is a vastly disproportionate number of people who want to learn YOUR language. And in no place is this more true than the Middle Kingdom, where millions of students would pay large sums of money, just to have the chance to practice their English, with YOU. Do you see where I’m going with this? As a native speaker of English, there is no reason you should ever have to sit in a Chinese classroom with next to other students. Here’s what you do. Find a Chinese friend with decent English skills, a knack for explaining concepts, and most importantly, somebody who you are comfortable hanging out with in a typical social setting. Pick a location and set up a regular meeting time where you do English for part of the time, then Chinese for the rest. You could do grammar lessons, tone drills, or even free form conversation. The key is to construct your own study plan. Cooperate with your partner to identify your strengths and weaknesses and focus your lessons accordingly. Have one productive language exchange already set up? Organize another one, and another one. This is linguistic symbiosis, a phrase which you will hear a lot about as you read on. Rather than pay money to sit in a class with an unbalanced teacher/student ratio, barter your own language skills to get a better deal. And make sure to be choosy of whom you work with. There are more than enough Chinese speakers to pair up with. The ability to properly teach a language is not bestowed on everybody. Interestingly, I’ve found that often “ESL teachers” (both Chinese and English) are no better or worse than at this than a random person chosen through social regular social networking. So quit those classes and start making friends.
2. Talk to Everybody (beginner)
If you live in China, this one is easy. If you live outside of China, not so much, but still possible. By in large, Chinese people, especially the middle aged and elderly, have an acute curiosity towards foreigners. As the majority of the population still lives with little or no contact with those of us who are not Chinese, there is a natural interest in foreigners, especially those willing to communicate in the Chinese language. Whether with your neighbor, your trash collector, or the girl massaging your feet, never, ever, waste the opportunity to open up small conversation. Chances are the other party would gladly take the opportunity to chat and have a few questions answered by a foreigner willing to converse in their native language. And you, as a student of Chinese, should be gladly willing to engage in some free language practice. More linguistic symbiosis.
When I was starting out with Chinese, I always viewed my oral Chinese skills is in terms of small, otherwise meaningless conversations which gradually build upon one another. My goal was to have at least ten per day, most lasting two or three minutes. The content of these conversations would be highly predictable, making it easy for me to learn through repetition while gradually adding to my lexical arsenal.
So here’s what you do. Start with the basics. People will want to know where you’re from, what you do in China, and how much your monthly salary is. (Yes, no joke. It’s a common inquiry upon first meeting. Either get comfortable telling people how much you make, or learn a polite way to skirt the question.) Learn how to recognize and answer these questions, and from there, begin building an arsenal of your own. The convenient byproduct of answering personal questions from Chinese strangers is that generally speaking, it gives you carte blanche to make similar queries of them. Think of a trite conversation at a wedding with somebody with whom you don’t really want to be actively conversing. Ask how many people are in their family, where they grew up, what their opinion is on the current weather conditions, anything to continue the small talk. Repeat and reload. Repeat and reload. The whole country is your classroom.
3. Take notes (beginner)
From spring 2004 until summer of 2005, I did not go anywhere without a notebook in my pocket. If you are truly studying a language, you are never on break. It is imperative that you use every opportunity to learn new words, phrases, and grammatical constructions. Furthermore, it is important to focus on those words which most frequently arise in your regular daily routine. So if you’re a photographer by trade, you should be learning the words for “megapixel” and “optical zoom.” If you are a lion tamer, words such as “cage” and “roar” would probably be more useful.
To build a vocabulary built around your own life, you must always have on your person either a pocket sized notebook or a stack of flash cards. Use the notebook or the cards to record new words and phrases, as well as to record those words and phrases you would like to learn. Take your notebook or your flashcards everywhere you go without exception. If you take the flashcard route, splice standard sized cards into threes. Otherwise they won’t fit comfortably in your pocket. As the day progresses, you should be constantly recording those new words and expressions which pertain to your daily routine. You can use this method to build your vocabulary with non-specialized by commonly used words and constructions as well. Ideally, a Chinese acquaintance in your immediate vicinity can answer some of your questions real time. For me (like many foreigners living in China), I went through this stage as an English teacher, so there was always someone on hand to answer my questions. If you aren’t surrounded by folks who can answer your questions, make sure there is someone at the end of the day to whom you can ask the questions from your notebook. Offer to answer their English questions in return. It’s symbiotic. Shoot for between 5 and 8 new Chinese terms or constructions per day. Don’t overload yourself. You should be using all your down time (time spent waiting in line, at the bus stop, even in the bathroom), reviewing your new terms and constructions. All it takes is short study breaks of two or three minutes, but happening intermittently throughout the day. The key is repetition, repetition, repetition.
4. Get drunk (intermediate)
Just because you never get a break from studying does not mean that you don’t get to have any fun. In fact having fun is one of the most useful ways to put all the new phrases in your notebook to practice. One of the best ways to do this is to party with Chinese friends who don’t speak English. Excessive alcohol consumption is detrimental to studies, relationships, and most other personal responsibilities. However it will do wonders to your linguistic prowess, as long as you harness it properly.
Language students often find that the effects of alcohol can alleviate some of the nerves which preclude the use of a foreign language. As a teacher, I’ve even noticed among those students who are not particularly nervous, alcohol tends to stimulate the flow of their language skills. So much to the point where students in a state of partial or complete inebriation often speak with more fluidity than they do when sober. However, the key to effectively using alcohol to improve your Chinese is in the careful selection of whom you party with. It has been my experience that when Westerners and Chinese drink together, conversation gravitates towards English nine times out of ten. As a sagacious student of Chinese, you must do everything in your power to insure you will be the only English speaker in your group, and try to avoid Chinese friends who either already speak English or have a desire to learn it. (This also has the added plus of knowing your Chinese friends like you for your personality, and not for your potential as a portable English corner). Alcohol has the uncanny ability aggregate previously acquired morsels of language and consolidate them into flowing thoughts . But you’ll never take advantage of this if your evenings out at the bars are spent with other English speakers.
5. Learn how to sing (intermediate)
If you are in China and don’t live in a plastic bubble (or one of those corporate foreigner compounds), you are probably asked to “sing a song” on a fairly regular basis. Whether in the karaoke room or the classroom, the Chinese possess a particular liking (for better or worse) to egging on their friends to sing in public. Chances are, if you were socialized in the West and have no vocal training, you are easily embarrassed in this situation, and kindly decline such offers.
Learning how to sing, or more accurately making an attempt at learning how to sing, will not only ease potentially awkward social situations, it will also provide you with a valuable learning tool. Think back to when you were in middle school. Did you ever have to memorize some speech or political document for social studies class? In the United States it’s common practice for middle school students to memorize the Preamble of the Constitution. I had to do this when I was in eighth grade in the early 1990s. Now, almost 20 years later, all I can remember is the first three words. However, I can still recite on demand all three verses of Vanilla Ice’s 1990 hit “Ice Ice Baby.” I also remember the words to “Bust a Move,” “The Humpty Dance,” and most of “We Didn’t Start the Fire .“ Why? Because the human brain has a knack for memorizing and retaining words which have rhythm or music to go along with them, and learning songs is an excellent way to build your vocabulary and syntax skills. I couldn’t tell you the cognitive science behind this so just try it out and see for yourself. Pick out a song you like from the radio, and ask a Chinese friend to help you download the lyrics, and transcribe them to pinyin if necessary. Then look up all of the unfamiliar words (Don’t let your friend do this for you. Looking words up is part of the learning process.) and type them into the margins. Print out your document, crank up the volume, and rock out. Trust me, you’re going to feel like a dork at first, but the anxiety subsides with time and practice. Plus next time you’re taken to the karaoke bar, you won’t be the wet blanket when it’s your time to sing. This also increase your chances at succeeding at item 4, getting drunk with your Chinese friends .
6. Pay attention to your surroundings (beginner)
Ever see those old Hong Kong movie where every street is depicted as a barrage of winding signs and flashing lights? Well, that’s basically what any street in China looks like—complete and total visual sensory overload. With its obnoxious symphony of signage and posters, there are few physical locations in China which are not potential workouts for your character recognition skills. Consider all the time you spend riding in cabs or buses and staring out the window, or standing line in the grocery store or at the DVD shop. You should be reading signs—all the time. Look for the characters and words you already know. Pay attention to unfamiliar ones which you see repeatedly, and ask a bystander their pronunciations and meanings. Write them down in your notebook. You do have a notebook in your pocket, don’t you? I’ve found most Chinese are more than willing to help with a casual question from a foreigner taking a stab at learning their language. Pay special attention to signage near your residence and place of work. These are the signs you will be reading every day, which means once you learn them, you will be repeatedly reading them over and over. Repetation leads to internalization. Wax on. Wax off.
7. Eat at Chinese Restaurants (beginner)
Some of you have probably seen my other site How To Order Chinese Food Dot Com. In addition to what I think is a very useful tool for foreigners wanting to order their own food in China, HTOCFDC is also the culmination of what I have found to be one of the most effective (and delicious) ways to study the Chinese language.
Most foreigners living in China eat the majority of their meals, except maybe breakfast, in restaurants. Ordering food in most restaurants usually necessitates the use of a menu. Think of each meal as an opportunity to learn one character. If you aren’t sure where to start, look down the menu and spot a character which seems to appear regularly on multiple items. Consider it your “character of the meal.” For me, my first “character of the meal” was 面 which means “noodles,” and appears probably more than any other character on a Chinese menu. Ask a friend (if you are truly a student of Chinese you should be eating most of your meals with Chinese acquaintances) to tell you the meaning and the pronunciation of the character. Write it in your notebook. The next time you eat in a restaurant, look for your character again on the menu. Think of it as the “Where’s Waldo?” of Chinese study. Once you locate the characters you know, learn another one, and another, one at every meal. In a matter of months, you should recognize a hefty percentage of the items on any Chinese menu. Use this as a building block for your reading skills, and you’ll start to notice your menu characters in places other than restaurants as well.
8. Chat online (intermediate)
Once you achieve an intermediate Chinese level, the Internet will rapidly emerge as a bottomless pit of linguistic calisthenics. Between voice chatting, blogs, and social networking, there truly is an unlimited access to a Chinese language environment so long as you know where to look. However, of the cornucopia of online Chinese language learning tools (which I should probably cover in a future post), none is more effective than online chatting.
To begin, I recommend signing up for a QQ account. (For more on QQ, read this post I wrote last year). QQ is a haphazardly designed, bug ridden, advertisement infested, thoroughly annoying, piece of software engineering garbage. It’s also your portal to hundreds of millions (literally) of native Chinese speakers more than willing to whittle away hours at the netbar conversing with complete strangers. While Skype and MSN also offer significant user bases, the advantage of QQ is the relative dearth of non-Chinese users. Put a sentence such as 我是一个会中文的老外 (I am a foreigner who can speak Chinese) in your profile, and you are bound to attract a steady flow of curious chat partners. You want to improve your Chinese chops. They want to chat with a foreigner—more symbiosis. QQ will allow you to both chat through typed characters as well as hook up your headset speak the old fashioned way. Use it to improve your typing speed, learn new vocabulary (I always have Kingsoft Powerword open when I’m QQing), or just to make new Chinese friends. For me, I credit my reading ability in no small part to hours spent on QQ discussing mundane subjects with complete strangers. And in addition to strangers, QQ is the perfect tool to keep in contact with those casual Chinese acquaintances whom you might sit next to on a train or share a room with in a hostel. You know, people you wouldn’t mind being in touch with, but don’t want to have calling you on the phone three times a week. So when they ask for your cell phone number, just give them your QQ instead. Everybody in China between the ages of 15 and 30, and I mean EVERYBODY has an account.
Furthermore, if you can speak, read, and write Chinese but can’t type it on a keyboard, then your language skills have already been marginalized by the technology. It is absolutely imperative that you learn to type. Unless you travel to China at 88 mph in a DeLorean with a flux capacitor, if you can’t type Chinese, you might as well be illiterate.
9. Text Message in Chinese (intermediate)
Whether I’m in traveling in China or at home in the US, I send at least twenty text messages every day. That means potentially at least 20 times per day I could be communicating my thoughts in Chinese, (assuming who I am texting can read Chinese as well). And since texting is generally used for relaying simplistic messages and ideas, it’s perfect for those who are in the early stages of their Chinese character learning process. Using pinyin, Chinese is actually faster to type on a keypad than English, and you will be amazed at how your speed improves once you make the switch to Chinese texting. Any cell phone bought in China should be able to text in both English and Chinese. If you bought your phone outside of China, take it in to an electronics mall and have them doctor it to include Chinese input. You can also find shops to do this in most places outside of China with significant Chinese populations. In Chicago there are at least three cell phone stores in Chinatown who will provide the service for around 20 dollars. Use Chinese texting to make your weekend plans, send greetings for birthdays or Spring Festival, or as a coy way to flirt with the opposite sex. I even use it with other foreigners occasionally because it’s faster than texting English.
10. Power Watch Television and Movies (advanced)
During my days of English teaching, at least once every semester I would encounter a student who possessed language abilities far beyond any of his classmates or peers, especially in terms of a native-sounding accent, inflection, and colloquialisms. As a teacher, I would always make it a point to sit down privately with these students and inquire as to their methods of learning foreign language, and there was a clear pattern which emerged: Compulsive consumption of American television and movies.
While it may not be of much help in the beginning (unless you are of pre-pubescent age), I am convinced that there is no more effective tool for native mastery of a language than endlessly watching foreign language films and serial television shows. The kicker though, is that those students who truly benefit from watching foreign films and shows, are those who have an authentic interest which stretches beyond any linguistic pursuits. They don’t watch because they want to improve their English. They watch because they enjoy the content. A supreme command of the English language just happens to be a convenient byproduct.
Therein lies an inherent roadblock to using film and TV to bolster your Chinese abilities. One reason Chinese students tend to get sucked into American movies and television is that the overall quality of programming is….well, incomparable. Due to several factors including the more mature state of the film industry and the lack of competition on the TV airways, much of what’s watched in China consists of cheesy kung fu flicks, singing competitions, and craptaculars. The single greatest obstacle to students of Chinese, and one that I struggle with myself, is finding materials which are interesting enough to develop a legitimate interest which is not prefabricated on a desire to learn Chinese. There are a few recommendations I can give to start you out though. For film, check out anything done by Zhang Yimou. His films stand up to Western standards of quality, and often cover historical events and issues of interest to those desiring an understanding of the Middle Kingdom. As for television shows, look for a 1990’s series called 北京人在纽约 (Beijingers in New York). It’s the story of a Chinese couple who move to the United States, and experience the peaks and valleys of life in a foreign land. While not the greatest show ever produced, it’s certainly watchable. Watch each film/show multiple times and try to pick up more of the dialogue with each run through. It takes a big time commitment, but consistent exposure to Chinese TV and movies over an extended period of time will do wonders to your language prowess.
Notice I mentioned television shows and movies, and not newscasts. The reason being that most regular people do not talk like newscasters. While watching news may be of benefit to those extremely advanced students aiming to improve their listening, your time will be far more efficiently spent viewing content of a more quotidian nature.
So there’s my list of 10. While slightly exhaustive, it is by no means comprehensive. If you’ve read through the entire post, you’ve probably noticed a distinct pattern with all of my suggestions. Each one represents a method of incorporating Chinese learning into your daily routine of activities. This is because learning a language is a lifestyle, not a hobby. Instead of enrolling in classes and studying for exams, use the suggestions above to integrate Chinese study into your individual life patterns. Ditch the lavish classroom with its troops of students all vying for the instruction of a single teacher, and instead focus on your expanding rolodex of language partners. You’ll find that your productivity will increase dramatically, plus you’ll be having fun while you learn. I often hear folks complain about how much “work” it is to learn Chinese. And yes, in the beginning, you do need to put long hours into drilling your tones and basic grammar patterns. But more often than not, linguistic mediocrity comes as a result of too much studying and not enough real world application. There is no better teacher than the environment and situations you choose to put yourself into. So stop meandering away hours in the classroom and start learning Chinese the right way, by living.
Posted in Linguistics at 12:13 am by Benjamin Ross
For those of you who have never met me in person, nor seen my personal pictures on this blog or on Facebook, I am six feet half an inch tall, have a brown complexion, and often sport a full beard or goatee. In China, people tell me I look like I’m from Pakistan or Turkey. My Indian friends tell me I could blend in with a crowd in Delhi. When I dine in Mexican restaurants on Chicago’s West side, the servers open conversation in Spanish, listen to one painful of sentence of Spanish out of my mouth, and then revert to English with the denigrating tone reserved for Americanized Mexicans who never properly learned their native tongue. Although ethnically speaking I am an Ashkenazik Jew, by all outward appearances I am rather…well…racially ambiguous. Yet rarely if ever does anyone guess that I am Chinese. Thus, whenever the undulating phonemes and tones of Mandarin emerge from my mouth, it elicits a reaction, from Chinese and non-Chinese alike. The comments usually go something like this:
“Wow, you learned Chinese! That is sooooo hard to do! You must be really smart!”
“Chinese is the most difficult language in the world, much more difficult than English.”
“You learned Chinese in only three and a half years? Such a short time!”
I categorically disagree with all three of these statements. Determining the actual difficulty of a language is not an exact science, and to a significant degree a language’s “difficulty” is relative to the native language of the learner. Thus, just as it would be easier for a Frenchman to learn Spanish (a fellow Romance tongue) than it would be to learn Tibetan (a Sino-Tibetan language), it would presumably be easier for a native Mandarin (also from the Sino-Tibetan family) speaker to learn Tibetan than it would be Spanish.
With that caveat in mind, my purpose in this piece is not to argue that Chinese is easier than or even equal in difficulty to English or any other language, nor that it necessarily requires less of a time commitment. Rather, the first part of this piece is going to examine what exactly is difficult about learning Chinese, and then the second part will reveal several aspects of the language which are easier, more simplistic, and far less time consuming than they would be studying English, or Spanish or French, two of the most commonly studied foreign languages by English speakers. Finally, in the third section I provide my explanation for the persistence of the myth that Chinese is exceedingly more difficult to learn than English.
Part 1: The Hard Part
“Mā má m? mà.”
In any halfway decent Chinese instructional program, this will be the very first lesson (the symbols above the letters represent the four tones of spoken Mandarin).
“Mā má m? mà.”
On the first day of study, all four invariably sound exactly the same. However, according to the instructor, ma can mean either mother, sesame, horse, or scold, depending upon the tonality with which it is pronounced.
“This is ridiculous.” “How can that be?” “I can’t even tell the difference between the first two.”
These are the typical reactions after day one of Chinese study. And despite the acrimony from his students, any instructor worth his salt will not let them proceed to the next lesson until mā má m? mà is absolutely mastered. Chances are, even with astute practice, two weeks later they all still sound basically the same, especially when not isolated in a practice exercise.
Yes, learning Chinese tones is difficult, or mind I say, excruciatingly difficult. By my count there are exactly two major areas of Chinese which are significantly more difficult than English, and pronunciation (especially tones) is number one. Not only is mastering the four tones of spoken Mandarin strenuous, but it is absolutely imperative in order for a student’s Chinese to have any chance at being comprehensible to a native speaker. Speak English with poor pronunciation, and we can generally figure out what is being said. Speak Chinese with bad tones, and you might as well be speaking Tagalog. Yup, Chinese pronunciation is extremely difficult, and I haven’t even begun to speak of the various consonant and vowel sounds which are foreign to native English speakers, but we don’t need to get into that. Let’s just accept that learning Chinese pronunciation is arduous, much more so than the pronunciation of English or a Romance tongue. Seeing as Chinese with inaccurate tones is about as comprehensible as English without consonants, any additional study without complete mastery of pronunciation is of little benefit whatsoever. And to make matters even worse, pronunciation accosts eager learners on the very first day. Bear this in mind as you read Part 3.
The second area in which I would argue Chinese is more difficult than English is in the written language, the most frequent source of consternation for Chinese language learners. However unlike pronunciation, which requires a great deal of oral contortionism and fine tuned listening skills, Chinese characters are more time consuming than they are difficult per se, and thus I list them as a distant number two in the totem of Chinese difficulty.
English has 26 letters. Chinese has anywhere from 40,000 to 100,000 different characters depending upon whom you ask, however the majority of them are archaic and would only be recognized by scholars of ancient Chinese. For more practical numbers, it is commonly believed that a college educated Chinese can recognize roughly five to six thousand characters and that general literacy can be achieved with two or three thousand. Now before I go any further, I will concede that achieving literacy in Chinese requires a greater time commitment than becoming literate in English or a Romance language. Historically, this was a major impetus for the movement from traditional to simplified characters, as well as several unsuccessful attempts to replace Chinese characters with Latin letters. However, comparing English (or French or Spanish) to Chinese in terms of 2,000 characters vs. 26 letters disregards several inherent efficiencies of the Chinese language which serve to accelerate the learning curve, as will be examined in the following section.
Part 2: The Easy Part
From a purely quantitative standpoint, 3,000 characters may sound like a lot, and it is if you’re planning to master Chinese over the course of a single semester or a three month backpacking trip. But if you’re like most people, your path towards mastering Chinese will require somewhere in the neighborhood of two solid years of studying. At this rate, mastering 3,000 characters amounts to learning 5 characters a day, every day, for roughly a year and a half; hardly an excruciating task, so long as a consistent study plan is maintained.
But learning Chinese characters isn’t always as easy as it sounds, even if you are only learning 5 a day. As in tone learning, the first few character lessons for any student of Chinese can be agonizing. For me personally, I’d liken my first 300 or so characters to memorizing arbitrary strokes of chicken scratch. Sure, 口looks like a mouth, and 山 appears vaguely to resemble a mountain, but ideograms as blatantly obvious as these are few and far between, and rarely as common as characters such as 我 (I) or 是 (“to be”) which bear little overt resemblance to the concepts they represent.
Thus, Chinese character learning must begin by rote. Each character is meticulously copied into a notebook, over and over ad nauseum. In the early stages, characters are often learned one day, then forgotten the next, as the practice hours mount with little to show for their efforts. Much like learning the tones, the early stages of Chinese character learning are marred with feelings of frustration and stagnation.
However, at around the 300-500 character mark, a point of epiphany occurs and all of the chicken scratch and rote memorization begins to coalesce into an increasingly logical order. To give an example, let’s look at a character, 证, which I encountered last week while I was interpreting at an arbitration hearing. 证 means prove or demonstrate and is used in the Chinese words for testimony and deposition. 证 is composed of two parts: 讠and 正. The former means speech or words while the latter denotes the concept of straight or upright. This hints to me that 证 will likely have a meaning similar to straight words. Furthermore, the pronunciation of 正 is identical to that of 证. Thus, even had I never before seen the character 证, I would probably have a pretty solid idea of both what it means and how to pronounce it.
Before anybody gets the wrong idea, most characters do not work out as seamlessly as证. Also, the hints are rarely dead giveaways. However, the system of Chinese characters is littered with clues of meaning and pronunciation, which expedite the learning curve once a student has a grasp of the system.
Skeptics are going to read the above argument and bring forth an objection which will transition right into my next point: English vocabulary, just like Chinese characters, is also constructed of logical bits and pieces, these being root words.
English as we use it today, consists of primarily old Germanic words for much of its every days speech mixed with bits and pieces of Latin and Greek (just to name a few) which compose much of its higher and more sophisticated vocabulary. Chinese on the other hand, constructs the majority of its vocabulary out fragments of Chinese, combined together in different permutations. Simply put, Chinese is bound by a self-contained system of logic, Whereas in English, centuries of wars and invasions have rendered the language into linguistic miscegeny of highest order. Interpreting in a medical setting, I encounter examples of this on a daily basis. Let’s consider the word for a common ailment which occurs when the lungs become inflamed with congestion. In Chinese, this ailment is called 肺炎, or taken character by character, lung inflammation. In English, this condition is known as pneumonia, a combination of letters and syllables of Greek origin, which hold little in common with the conventions of modern English. In English we have hepatitis. In Chinese, we get liver inflammation. In English when we eat the meat of a pig it’s called pork. In Chinese, it’s pig meat. And in English when you have a problem with your toilet, you find a plumber. In Chinese you call the water pipe worker.
In effect, when one studies English, they are actually studying the vocabulary of several languages. On the contrary, once one has gained a working knowledge of Chinese, vocabulary building occurs by repeatedly using the same set of linguistic constructs, only parsing them together in different combinations.
Another result of this is that Chinese has a far less extensive vocabulary than English. To illustrate this point, consider the following conversation I had over QQ with my Chinese friend “Jeremy,” a college educated insurance salesman in Fuzhou, regarding my recent GRE studying.
Jeremy: How’s your studying going?
Ben: Good, just a lot of work. I’ve been spending a lot of time on vocabulary words.
Jeremy: Vocabulary? What do you mean?…Chinese Vocabulary?
Ben: No, English vocabulary.
Jeremy: Why are you studying English vocabulary? You’re American.
This conversation might sound ridiculous when taken out of context. Among English speakers, it is virtually impossible to reach a saturation point where one can read widely and still fail to encounter new vocabulary words. But the vocabulary of the Chinese language on the other hand, is far more constrained. Constrained to the point that other than specialized nouns and jargon, an educated Chinese will rarely if ever encounter new vocabulary words. With this understanding, it makes sense why Jeremy was surprised that as a native English-speaking, college educated American, I was still expanding my vocabulary.
Chinese vocabulary building is highly intuitive, and once students achieve basic grasp of the language, vocabulary expansion occurs at a rapid pace. Because of the systematic nature of the language, Chinese characters, which at first present a major stumbling block for students, in the long run actually serve to accelerate the learning curve. Furthermore, due to the smaller girth of its vocabulary, students of Chinese simply do not need to devote as much time and effort on vocabulary building as students of European languages such as English and French which are littered with synonymous terms of varying geographic origin.
The intuitiveness of Chinese character and vocabulary building is further complimented by another linguistic shortcut, and this would be grammar. Chinese grammar is simple, extremely simple, mainly because there isn’t much of it. Consider the following.
-Chinese nouns, verbs, and adjectives contain no masculine and feminine differentiation.
-Singular and plural are the same in China, and there are no stem changes or varying endings based on number. In English we have “two deer, three wolves, four mice, and five dogs” In Chinese, we have “two deer, three wolf, four mouse, and five dog.”
-There is no differentiation between subject and object pronouns (i.e. I/me, he/him, who/whom) in Chinese.
-There is no “agreement” between different words subject and object in Chinese, nor between nouns and their adjectives.
-But by far and away, the greatest shortcut with learning Chinese is that Chinese verbs do not conjugate. English has 12 distinct tenses. Spanish has 14. Chinese has just one. Instead of conjugating verbs, tense in Chinese is implied through the addition of an adverbial phrase or an additional verb or particle.
Furthermore, students of Chinese are often pleasantly surprised that due to its simplistic nature, Chinese grammatical irregularities, especially as they pertain to verbs, are few and far between. Consider the English verb to be, which is expressed as either is, am, are, was, were, been, or being, depending on the subject and tense. In Spanish, to be can be expressed as estar, estoy, estás, está , estamos, estáis, están, ser, soy, eres, es, somoms, sois, or son, and this is assuming we are confining our speech only to the present tense. In Chinese, we accomplish this idea of to be with a single, mono-syllabic character 是 (shì). Thus, the significant demands of time and effort presented by pronunciation and character acquisition, can be to a significant degree, offset by a simplified and highly intuitive system of grammar.
Part 3: Debunking the Myth
In the sections above, I have outlined the two “hard parts” of the Chinese language, pronunciation and the early stages of character study. I have also explained several characteristics of the Chinese language which render it more efficient and intuitive than English. It is my contention that even if these simplifying properties of the language do not completely cancel out the pain and suffering of pronunciation and characters, they do make Chinese language acquisition considerably easier than often perceived by outsiders. It is my contention that Chinese may inherently be more slightly difficult to learn than English, Spanish, or French. However it is by no means an insurmountable challenge nor is it “the hardest language in the world,” as people often speculate.
This brings us back to my original question of why common perception is that learning Chinese is excruciatingly difficult. If you’ll recall my discussion of Chinese pronunciation and Chinese characters, a commonality between these two facets of Chinese language acquisition is that the bulk of their difficulty arises at the beginning of the language learning process. As stated above, I firmly believe that the most difficult aspect of Chinese is the pronunciation. And as Chinese rookies quickly discover, without an absolute mastery of Chinese pronunciation (especially tones), spoken Chinese can be virtually incomprehensible to native speakers. Because of this, the mastery of Chinese pronunciation must occur at the very beginning of Chinese study, not gradually acquired over the course of time. Students who attempt the latter approach usually end up frustrated at their inability to communicate, give up before pronunciation is mastered, and thus continue to perpetuate the myth that Chinese is simply too difficult.
Likewise, character learning, which unlike pronunciation continues throughout the duration of the language acquisition process, is by far and away more difficult at the beginning than it is when a student has several hundred characters under their belt. When we figure that Chinese grammar and vocabulary building is pretty straightforward throughout, we are left with a model where the most arduous period of Chinese learning is at the very beginning. Once pronunciation is mastered and becomes a non-factor, the threshold of 300-500 characters is reached, and command of grammar and basic sentence patterns is internalized (by far the easiest of the three), the learning curve begins to accelerate at a rapid pace. For convenience sake, I refer to this point as the “Great Hump of China.” This runs counter to the study of most other foreign languages, and furthermore counter to the majority of life’s protracted undertakings at large. As humans, we tend to assume (and rightly so in most cases) that whether we are learning gymnastics, studying physics, or even battling computerized boxers in Mike Tyson’s Punch Out, the undertakings of life begin easy and simplistic, and gradually increase in difficulty as we progress. Most students who prematurely quit their Chinese studies (and the attrition rate is high) tend to do so because of Chinese’s immediate difficulty from the onset. Using the logic that has guided them through life thus far, they deduce “if it’s this hard already, it’s only going to get harder down the line.” In reality, nothing could be further from the truth. The initial stages of Chinese learning are extremely difficult, but once the Great Hump is crossed, the language rapidly becomes easier and easier.
The existence of the Great Hump I will also maintain, accounts for the false perceptions that mastering Chinese requires many years of studying (it shouldn’t take more than 2 or 3) and that my own ability to learn it living in China for only 3.5 years is in a word, miraculous (It isn’t. It’s typical). Students who are attempting to learn Chinese over the course of a protracted period in an immersed environment (i.e. in China) tend to quickly deviate into one of two camps: those who learn the language and those who don’t. The first group consists of those individuals who take their language studies seriously, follow a prudent study plan, and most importantly have the patience to deal with the excruciating first months. This group tends to obtain a firm grasp of the language in the span of about two years. The typical pattern begins with roughly three months of frustration, focusing heavily on pronunciation, in which little tangible improvement to communication capacity is achieved. Somewhere between the six month and one year mark, the great hump is crossed. And then for the remaining time, improvement accelerates at an exponential rate, as the student has already covered the most difficult aspects of the language.
The other group are those who remain perpetually behind the hump, and continue to exist in a constant state of novice and frustration which can last indefinitely. The most common reason for this is a failure to master pronunciation, which as mentioned before, renders any further studying for all intents and purposes, useless. Thus, students in the second group can often “study” for several years while plateauing at a level which members of the first group eclipsed in a matter of months. Put succinctly, students of Chinese either “get it” in about 2-3 years, or they never get it at all regardless of the duration of their studies. Like the early quitters, those who continue their studies but never cross the Great Hump go on to perpetuate the myth of the supreme difficulty of the Chinese language and the divine intellect of those who learn it in only a few years.
Chinese is not the most difficult language in the world. Nor is it significantly more difficult than English, Spanish, or French. And learning Chinese is not a perilous undertaking which requires years of intense study and superior mental abilities. It is a skill which can be acquired in a period of under three years, by any individual of average intelligence, provided they have access to a sufficient learning environment, the necessary amount of patience, and most importantly, are cognizant of the fact that the most critical and difficult period of their studies will be the very beginning. Was learning Chinese time consuming? Yes, it took me about two years of living in China during which I was studying and practicing every day. Was it difficult? Yes, but only in the beginning. After I passed the Great Hump, it was far easier than the French I labored over for five years in college and high school. And finally does my mastery of Chinese, as a six foot white guy with not a single drop of Chinese blood, put me on some intellectual plane above and beyond normal human intellectual capacity? Absolutely not. I still rank it up there with my second round TKO of Mike Tyson on Nintendo.
Hello readers. It’s been a while since I’ve done a “state of the blog” post, and although I generally try not to convolute this blog with my own personal affairs, it’s been over two months since the last post, so I figured an update was necessary.
Being as I spent three months in Beijing last summer, this summer was my first to actually spend in Chicago. Halfway through the summer, I also realized that it had been six years (since the summer after I graduated college) that I had actually spent a summer on American soil. With that in mind, my goal for the past four months was to stay in one place and travel as little as possible, something I haven’t done much of since the last millennium. Whenever possible I’ve been spending my free time exploring Chicago much in the same sense that I explore a new Chinese city whenever I first arrive: taking public transportation to a random part of town, disembarking, exploring on foot, and sampling any strange foods which may appear along the way. Chicago is one of the most diverse places on the planet, and my previous experience of living abroad for 3 years has served to engender in me a new found appreciation for vast depository of the world cultures which exist in the United States.
On the work front, I am still interpreting, primarily in the healthcare field, but I’m also starting to get some court gigs as well. Interpreting has forced me to push my Chinese studies into directions I had not previously tendered with while living in China…for example thoroughly describing the process of a colonoscopy or a vaginal tissue biopsy. Another pleasant effect is that my Chinese level has actually improved since I’ve repatriated rather than the typical attrition which comes along with not using language skills on a daily basis.
Recently, I’ve also begun a side gig as a consultant and translator for Lenovo’s soon to be rolled out design blog. I’m going to be working with the Beijing team on brainstorming, idea management, and translating the blog into English for the international audience. If budgets work out, I’ll hopefully also be spending a little bit of time in Beijing at some point over the next few months.
The biggest news however is that I am currently in the process of applying to Ph. D programs in sociology. I am hoping to focus my graduate studies on the rapid urbanization of China and the incipient urban centers which are flaring up all across the country. More specifically, some of the issues I’d like to address include urban growth patterns, suburbanization, ghettoization, social class, and migration as they relate to China’s rapid movement from an agrarian to an urban society. I have always intended on continuing my ethnography work with Chinese migrant workers (and Chinese barbershops), and have decided a Ph. D program in sociology is the best venue in which to carry out these pursuits.
With all this going on, my blog has been noticeably lagging. Suffice it to say, it is not easy to procure content for a blog titled “A Midwesterner in the Middle Kingdom” when in fact the author is not in the Middle Kingdom. Therefore I have opted to change the title to the more appropriate “A Midwesterner ON the Middle Kingdom.” However, one aspect of China with which I am becoming increasingly familiar in Chicago is the Chinese American experience. I have been spending a fair amount of time in Chinatown and have been becoming reasonably well acquainted with various aspects of the large Chinese community here, and hope to interject some of these findings and observations into blog posts in the near future.
With all that in mind, I am looking forward to a busy fall, and hopefully a nice little shot in the arm for “A Midwesterner On the Middle Kingdom.” Thanks to everybody who has continued reading and look forward to more content to come.
Today (8/8/09) marks the beginning of the one year anniversary of the Beijing Olympics, an event which through a fortuitous work-related coincidence, I was able to attend first hand. Looking back, here are some of my favorite memories of those seventeen days.
-Taking a cab on the second ring road during rush hour and moving faster than the bicyclists.
-While relaxing leisurely and sipping on Tsingtaos with the other Americans, glancing across the stadium and observing the several thousand rabid Japanese fans yelling, screaming “gambani nippon,” waving banners, and participating in group cheers. The only thing missing was the big drums (they weren’t allowed to bring them in).
-Looking West out over a sky bridge on the third ring road and noticing for the very first time that Beijing actually has mountains within sight range.
-Stting in the same section as Kobe Bryant for the soccer semi-finals, and then listening as half the stadium proceeded to chant “Kobe, Kobe” for twenty minutes straight.
-Finding the Beijing Subway system to finally be remotely useful (thanks to line 5 and line 10)
-Watching Fuwa faceplant at halfcourt during a basketball game
-Meeting interesting people from all over the world, exchanging contact information and promising to keep in touch, and then never contacting any of them.
So what’s next for China? I wouldn’t be surprised if as soon as the World Expo is complete we start to hear grumblings about Shanghai 2020. Although if and when China does ever host another Olympiad, it’s going to be tough to top Beijing 2008.
Since I first commenced “Midwesterner in the Middle Kingdom” in 2007, I have periodically received offers from authors and book publishers for promo copies of soon to be released books, presumably in the hope I will take a look and dispense some free PR. Since I try to keep commercial interests out of this blog’s content, I typically reply that I’d be glad to accept a copy of the book, but cannot guarantee a review unless I find the book exceptionally relevant to the scope of the blog. Patrick Radden Keefe’s new title, The Snakehead, which was released to the public on Tuesday, was the first promo to fall into this category.
The Snakehead was released to the public this past Tuesday. The official website can be found at www.thesnakehead.com.
“Snakehead” (蛇头 she2 tou2) is not a common term in the American vernacular or through much of China for that matter. However in Fuzhou it is the household moniker for an individual who specializes in sneaking people over international borders. And in no other part of China are the snakeheads as adept at smuggling individuals into foreign lands than they are in Fuzhou.
Radden Keefe’s saga begins with the Golden Venture, a vessel which originated in Thailand, and ran aground off the coast of New York City at 2 a.m. on June 6, 1993. Aboard the ship were 286 illegal Chinese immigrants, mainly from Fuzhou. The sponsor of the ship had been a Fuzhounese woman in Queens who was known throughout Chinatown as “Sister Ping.” Using contacts in New York, Fuzhou, and across the globe, Sister Ping was able to establish a logistical network spanning through China, Southeast Asia, Africa, Central America, Canada, Mexico and the United States, in order to smuggle thousands of undocumented Chinese over the border. She also amassed a fortune of over forty million dollars in the process, all under the cover of a small storefront in Chinatown.
Radden Keefe’s tale documents the trials and tribulations the Fuzhounese who choose to illegally venture to America, which do not always run as smoothly as anticipated. This was discovered by the passengers on the Golden Venture when they were intercepted by the Coast Guard on the beach and subsequently sent to a lockdown facility in York, PA. In addition to the authorities, smuggling enterprises are often subject to the vicissitudes of Chinatown organized crime gangs who also want a piece of the action. Radden Keefe recounts much of this through Ah Kay, a Fuzhounese crime boss, turned FBI informant. As the preeminent gangster in Chinatown, Ah Kay uses his muscle to both cooperate and antagonize Sister Ping as they both battle for their share of the immigration profits, in a complex relationship which stretches from Fuzhou to New York City and ultimately to the federal courtroom.
With a nonlinear storytelling style, at times reminiscent of a Quentin Tarantino script, Radden Keefe’s narrative bounces through a veritable merry-go-round of settings including rural villages in China, underground gambling dens in New York City, airport departure counters in Bangkok, the jungle of Burma, the coast of South Africa, the streets of Mombassa, safe houses in Central America, and the US Canada border at Niagara Falls. Each anecdote reveals another piece of the elaborate pipeline by which rural Chinese attempt the journey to the United States where they will work in restaurants, pay off the Snakeheads, and ultimately remit their earnings back to their families in China.
As a former resident of both Fuzhou and Fuqing (one of the small towns frequently cited in the book as a source of illegals) there was no way I was going to pass up on The Snakehead. When I was living in the area, it would have been impossible to carry on without noticing the widespread effects of the human smuggling operations which shape the region. Between the regular fake marriage proposals, the high-rise countryside mansions, and the stories from ever present taxi driver with three cousins and a brother all washing dishes in New York City, illegal immigration and the spoils it brings are in indelible part of life in and around Fuzhou.
The Snakehead is a comprehensive look at the expansive body of the actors in this global enterprise. Appropriately, Radden Keefe lays out the facts and particulars while carefully avoiding explicit value judgments which so often muddle the issues surrounding immigration. While he does share some of his own personal views in the epilogue, the bulk of the text refrains from swaying the reader’s opinion to any particular persuasion. Rather, it provides a equitable exposé on an underground topic which has yet to be documented in such a complete and readable form. For organized immigration enthusiasts, crime buffs, and China hands alike, The Snakehead is a must read.
On multiple occasions during my stop through Zhejiang this past March, I noticed stickers such as the one below, posted above urinals in Internet bar bathrooms.
It reads 上前一小步， 文明一大步, or in English “Step forward one small step, (become) civilized one big step.” This notice, urging male patrons to inch closer to the facilities while urinating, is actually a play on words from another famous quote in China, “这是一个人的一小步，却是人类的一大步,” which is the Chinese rendering of “That’s one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind,” the famous words uttered in 1969 by Neil Armstrong upon the first successful Moonwalk, 24 years before Michael Jackson accomplished a similar feat.
The “XX一小步，XX一大步” slogan format is not uncommon in China, as 40 years ago Mr. Armstrong inadvertently unleashed the perfect template, when translated into Chinese, for parallel metaphorical (I’m sure there’s a more technical term) public service announcements that still resonates today, even in dingy netbar lavatories.
The most prominent example of the “Armstrong template” is probably “个人文明一小步，社会文明一大步,” meaning “One small step for personal civility, one big step for society and civilization.” This slogan can be observed in public areas as a general reminder to people to wait in line, throw away trash, not spit on the floor, or anything else which is associated with “civilized” behavior.
The reason that Armstrong’s quote has stuck so well (in addition to the sheer magnitude of the moon landing) is that short, concise quotations, often with minimal (or no) grammar, are probably the most poignant ways to make witty statements in Chinese. The prime example would be the 成语 (cheng2 yu3), where four characters are muttered in succession, and communicate an implicit meaning which usually requires several sentences of English to explain.
While Neil Armstrong’s command of the Chinese language is likely far superseded by his knowledge of the universe and astrophysics, I do imagine he would be humored to know that his legacy has produced one of the more indelible slogan templates in the Chinese lexicon…Or at very least to know his speech patterns are memorialized in the coveted real estate above Chinese netbar urinals.
It’s been several months since I’ve stepped foot in the Middle Kingdom. However, my old cohort Rebecca McQuillen, is still in Fuzhou and recently logged these colorful snapshots (and captions) about fashion in China on her Facebook. I have reproduced them here with her permission.
Real LV which is not seen very often. She went to Hong Kong to buy this beauty.
Retired look; This was at the the torch relay coming to Fuzhou.
Seeing a lot of price tags still hanging off clothing. It used to be the brand on the sleeve of business suits. Price tags are fairly new in the past 2 years.
College girl look
Love the colors and patterns. so cute
She is getting geared up for the 4th of July, I guess. I always wonder where they buy this stuff. Do with have sequenced flag purses at home?
Normal look for weekday afternoon. Gogo dress and high heels riding motor scooter.
Owner of local coffee shop; Her backpack is an over-sized teddy bear. Many adults wear and use things we in the West would consider for children only.
Menswear displayed in a window; This looks like a women’s outfit in the West, but they only sell men’s clothing in this store so was not an issue of only having a male mannequin.
“Less is more in the West. In China, too much is not enough,” quote by Douglas Bonner, and this is another example.
Arm protectors; seeing less and less of these, but many young women who work in offices still wear them at work. Offices get cleaned maybe once a year, so they are quite dirty.
school boys and me
Face masks are now fashion statements.
Dogs dyed all different colors and made to wear doggy clothes is a normal site. Now more and more large dogs are being seen.
Airport porters with Chinglish, note this is in Shenzhen AFTER the Olympics.
Normal walk in high heels…looks like a homecoming queen, which is suitable cause she was at airport picking up a passenger.
Hanging out at nail salon
These hats are a huge hit on Gulangyu Island in Xiamen.
countryside look
Colored hair is everywhere. Yet they dye bottle color, not much mixing or toning down. It is still in experimental stage.
What I like about Rebecca’s work is that it provides a pretty accurate cross section of a society which is only 30 years into a complete upheaval of common social practices; how individuals clothe themselves being a major component of this. Most of Rebecca’s shots were taken in Fuzhou, where only a generation ago, such photography would have yielded nothing more than monotonous blue and gray suits, straight black hair, and nothing more than a “Quotations of Mao Zedong” book as an accessory. As China continues to change and develop at a rapid pace, so too will the fashion tastes of the populace. Many of the fashions shown here (sans the “countryside look” of course) will probably be by the wayside in just a couple years. It’s already looking vastly different from when I left Fuzhou, and that was only August of 2007.
Posted in Pop Culture at 10:10 pm by Benjamin Ross
originally posted 7/3/07
The 4th of July is the one time a year when us Americans can dress up in red, white, and blue, and drink beer and light fireworks as we sing off-key versions The Battle Hymn of the Republic. Its a day to eat bar-b-que, have block parties, and above all, celebrate. The reason for all the celebration, in theory, is to commemorate our Independence, and to be proud of being American. But what does it mean to be proud to be an American? Living in China, I often come across tiny moments which answer this question. The most recent of these came from an unexpected source.
Last weekend I was enjoying an evening with friends in a private room at a karaoke bar. After several hours of Chinese pop songs, one of my friends selected Michael Jackson’s Thriller to be played on the hi-fi. Unlike most Chinese karaoke videos, the Thriller video is the uncut version of the original.
As the first scene began with Michael proposing to his girlfriend, the normally raucous atmosphere of the karaoke room toned down to a curious movie watching mode. My friends’ eyes remained peeled to the screen as Michael morphed into a werewolf and chased his girlfriend through the woods. The frightened look in their eyes was suddenly spun around as the scene flashes to Michael and his girlfriend eating popcorn in the movie theater. Everybody in the room had been engaged, scared, shocked, and humored, and were now settling into the fact that this was not just a typical karaoke video.
As Michael danced down the street, heads bopped up and down to the bass notes of that famous Thriller instrumental loop. When the music faded and zombies emerged from tombs and man-holes, the girls began to squirm in their seats. As Michael danced with the zombies, the atmosphere reverted back to that of a karaoke room. Shots of beer were consumed, snacks were munched, and the group chitter chattered amongst each other.
The party atmosphere was broken once again when Michael’s girlfriend runs home only to find the zombies breaking into her living room. As the zombified Michael emerged, looks of fright and anxiety graced my friends’ faces one more time, only to be promptly swifted away as Michael reaches in to grab his girlfriend and then suddenly wakes her up from a dream. As Michael turned around and faced the camera with his glowing eyes, the karaoke crowd clapped with delight.
One of the girls turned to me, “Wow, I had no idea he was so handsome back then. He is really strange now.”
Michael Jackson was handsome in 1983. But it was not just his physical appearance. Michael could sing. He could dance. He had the red leather jacket. And his teaming with producer Quincy Jones and a skilled team of directors, actors, musicians, and choreographers, produced a 13 minute clip of pure genius. Watching the Thriller video in a karaoke room in Fuzhou in 2007, it is still every bit as fresh as it was when I saw it for the first time when I was only 4 years old. It’s a work of art, which has proven to cross not only borders of time but those of culture.
During the next song another one of my friends in the room turned to me, and referring to the Thriller video said “That was really incredible. There has never been anything done like this in China.”
Because of various factors, social, economical, political, demographical, and some purely coincidental, the United Sates is an environment where this kind of creative innovation has thrived for 400 years. As the world’s largest fondue pot of ethnic mixing, American culture has produced some of the world’s most profound innovations, personalities, and works of art from the last 400 years. From Thomas Edison to Bill Gates, from Huckleberry Finn to Homer Simpson, and from the Model T to Gmail, the cumulative achievements of American culture should make us all proud.
The Fourth of July is not only a time to celebrate our independence, but also a time to appreciate the achievements which have occurred since our independence. This Wednesday take a short break from the beer and bar-b-que to re-watch the Thriller video. Or read a few chapters from The Grapes of Wrath. Download a copy of Martin Luther King’s “I have a dream” speech. Pop in a CD of Duke Ellington, Bob Dylan, or Elvis Presley. Use an iPod. Watch The Simpsons. Listen to one of George Carlin’s stand up routines. Reread the American constitution. Rent The Godfather, or eat General Tso’s chicken.
If anybody asks why you are proud to be an American, you will have a list of reasons to give them. And then you can return to the beer, bratwursts, and a capella renditions of This Land is Your Land.
Two weekends ago, my old friend Jiang Yueting from Fuqing came to visit me in Chicago. I first met Yueting in 2004 in Fuqing’s only McDonalds. I didn’t speak much Chinese at the time, and seeing as I was having trouble ordering a Spicy Chicken Combo (I had been subsisting entirely on Chinese university cafeteria food until that point), Yueting promptly offered his assistance and helped me order. Afterwords, we exchanged phone numbers, and he went on to become my first non-colleague friend in China.
Thesedays, Yueting is finishing up his law degree at Temple University in Philadelphia (you can visit his Chinese blog about the US here), and two weekends ago, he and his friend Michelle came to visit me in Chicago. Along with our itinerary which included stops downtown, and through many of Chicago’s diverse ethnic neighborhoods, we decided to check out the residence of Chicago’s current most famous resident, Barack Obama.
Obama’s residence is in Kenwood, one of the more upscale neighborhoods on the South Side. Before I went to see it, I had 2 major misconceptions about the president’s humble abode. 1) that it would indeed be humble and 2) that I would actually be able to see it from any close vantage point.
Instead, this is the first thing one sees when they visit the Obama residence at 5046 S. Greenwood. Traffic (pedestrian and automobile) is blocked off to anybody who does not live on the street, or who has been given specific permission (i.e. workmen, Chinese take out delivery drivers, etc.)
This was about as close to the Obama residence as we could get. It’s difficult to see from this shot, but let’s just say it’s one of the larger single family units I have ever seen in the city.
Here’s a view from the other side.
Ironically, the oldest synagogue in Chicago is right across from the president’s residence. I tried telling the police officers that we had come for Shabbat afternoon services, but seeing as I was with 2 Asians, and all of us were carrying cameras, I wasn’t surprised they laughed off my request. According to the cop, all congregants of the synagogue are required to present a special pass to get through the road block.
Along with our old Fuzhou buddy Jon Zalman, we snooped around the scene and chatted with the Chicago police officer on guard for about five minutes before he politely told us we had to leave. According to the officer, the vicinity was loaded with plain clothes officers and CIA agents, and that when the master of the house returns to Chicago, the blockade is extended out nearly through the entire neighborhood. I couldn’t help but wonder how much of an inconvenience it has to be living in the same neighborhood as the President of the United States. I asked another police officer if the security regulations would be in place for the next 4 years, and he immediately quipped back, “You mean the next 8 years.”
Well after our little jaunt, I must say the president does have good taste in housing and neighborhoods. Kenwood is certainly one of the more aesthetically pleasing upscale urban neighborhoods I have visited in Chicago. It’s also nice to know our president has chosen to live within the city as opposed to the suburban sprawl where most affluent Americans reside thesedays.
In a completely unrelated note, Obama’s neighbors in Kenwood include Muhammad Ali as well as Louis Farrakhan whose house we accidentally discovered. In fornt reads a large plaque “Residence of Muhammad, Messenger of Allah.” In addition to the Obama house and the Farrakhan house, we also stumbled upon the Chabad House in Hyde Park about a half mile south of Kenwood, where we randomly encountered a native Chinese speaking Jew (mom was from NY, dad was from Beijing). Yes, Chicago is quite the mecca of diversity. Just ask our half-Kenyan half-Kansan Indonesian-speaking president.
After two weeks of traveling, I had reached the end of the line. Nanjing was to be the last stop on my journey from the Yangtze Delta to the backwoods of Anhui and back to the Delta. I had to return to Shanghai to catch a flight back to Chicago, and Tex had to get back to Wenzhou to start teaching again. After a few days of relaxing and enjoying the laowai life in Nanjing, we busted out the backpacks, and headed off for one final hurrah, a day trip to Yangzhou.
Yangzhou is a relatively modest sized town about an hour and a half from Nanjing via train. From what we had gathered, we could walk most of the town in a single day if we had an early start. Before our trip, I admittedly didn’t know much about Yangzhou. In fact for many people, (myself included) they only know Yangzhou in the context of being the birthplace of Yangzhou (young chow) fried rice…that, and former Chinese president Jiang Zemin, although I’m guessing the the fried rice probably receives more fanfare.
Tex and I set out with the simple goals of 1) exploring the Yangzhou city area on foot and 2) seeking out the world famous Yangzhou fried rice. It didn’t take us long to tackle the second goal, as our bus from the train station dropped us off immediately in front of this restaurant, named simply “Yangzhou Fried Rice.”
Fried rice has a certain allure in the West as being one of those sought after Asian dishes, presumably made carefully from fine ingredients in fancy kitchens and dining establishments across the Middle Kingdom. In reality, fried rice is essentially the Chinese response to leftovers. In most Chinese households, fried rice is what happens when you are stuck with cold rice and leftover scraps of meat and veggies from the previous day’s meal. The rice is thrown into a wok, along with a fried egg, and then mixed with whatever excess foodstuffs might be lying around the house. It is not intentional, gourmet or exotic. It’s simply practical, a functional method for the disposal of leftovers, which of course was also the impetus for the invention of Chop Suey in California.
Now with all that being said, Yangzhou has become known across the Middle Kingdom (and in many parts of the world for that matter) for Yangzhou Fried Rice, a special recipe, which is prepared intentionally, and is commonly eaten in classy restaurants, by those with a refined taste for Chinese cuisine.
If I had to break it down to a simple explanation, the secret ingredient to Yangzhou Fried Rice is…everything! According to the free brochures at the Yangzhou Fried Rice restaurant, the ingredients include “white rice, sea cucumber, dried scallops, chicken thigh, Chinese ham (火腿), fresh river shrimp, mushrooms, fresh bamboo shoots, peas, etc,” however this is just a small sampling. Unfortunately I didn’t take better notes at the time, but I remember counting nearly 20 different substances in my rice.
When all was said and done, there wasn’t anything which jumped out as particularly special about Yangzhou fried rice. It was just…well…fried rice, albeit a rather multifarious recipe, but still on the whole, fried rice. Definitely not worth a trip to Yangzhou just to sample it, but it surely worth eating if you are there.
Other than eat fried rice, there really isn’t much to do per se in Yangzhou, but fortunately the city has some rather picturesque streets and architecture, so we spent most of the day meandering around town.
There are of course the requisite 80’s style bathroom tile buildings and cement cages.
But overall, a rather large amount of the local infrastructure and housing stock is of vintage style.
Like Suzhou, and many other cities in Jiangsu, Yangzhou is a water town with canals flowing throughout the city.
Unlike Suzhou, Yangzhou has not undergone an explosion of modernism and industrial development, and there are no skyscrapers, industrial parks, or compounds of Westerner businessmen and their latte-sipping wives.
Many of its locals continue living the simple life, pictured here washing clothes in the street with their neighbors.
Most of the canals were lined with ornate cement bridges and railings, making Yangzhou one of the more aesthetically pleasing small Chinese cities to explore on foot.
Unlike Fuyang and Taihe, Yangzhou is not poor. As is the case most of southern Jiangsu and Northern Zhejiang, the pocket books people of Yangzhou have benefited greatly from the economic development of the post Reform and Opening up era. One manifestation of this is the Dairy Queen we found there. While it may not seem significant at first, 18 RMB (approx $2.50 USD) for a Blizzard is an astronomically large amount to pay in a country where ice cream can commonly be purchased from street kiosks for 2 RMB. Accordingly, Dairy Queen (simply called “DQ” in China, there is no Chinese name), is generally found only in the wealthiest, most developed cities in China. As you can see from the picture above, Tex was quite excited by our find.
Yangzhou has recently been focusing on exploiting its tourism potential and in the eastern part of the city, a large tract of neighborhoods had been leveled to make room for a new tourist street (pictured above). It’s part of a new trend in Chinese city planning which I like to call “tastefully touristy” development, where buildings and streets are reconstructed, in a careful attempt to mimic the architecture of times past. While it’s never as good as the real thing, these developments do provide some sense of historical authenticity, as opposed to the typical plasticy tourist traps.
As much effort as was put into the tourist area, it still paled in comparison to the extant canals and dwellings which still make up the majority of the Yangzhou cityscape.
I also found Yangzhou to possess some of the best public landscaping I have seen in China.
Several of the canals are lined with tour boats…
…as well as restaurants on the water.
In one of the public parks, Tex and I came across the site of retirees partaking in their daily half hour exercise regiment. A woman in the middle of the group led the exercises with a cheer cadence which was repeated loudly by the group throughout the workout. Here’s a video below.
more canals and bridges…
even more canals and bridges
Yes, there was definitely no shortage of water in Yangzhou.
Like anywhere in China, Yangzhou also had its default “scenic spots,” like this temple which we did not bother going into. Often times “attractions” such as these are simply commercialized versions of the sites and buildings which can be experienced for free in their natural context anyway.
We had planned to take the last train from Yangzhou to Nanjing which left around 7 pm, so we spent our final hour in Yangzhou exploring this bustling snack street.
Shawarma (or 土耳其烤肉, “Turkish roasted meat” as it’s called) is apparently a growing fad in Chinese street dining. We had to have a little taste before our final meal in Yanghzou, which consisted of…
…yup, you guessed it, more Yangzhou Fried Rice. We figured since we’d come all the way, and probably would never be back in Yangzhou, we owed it to ourselves to try the famous fried rice from at least two different restaurants.
As an interesting side note, Yangzhou Fried Rice is actually quite expensive in Yangzhou, typically going for about 15 RMB (approx $2.15 USD) for a serving like this, even in most hole-in-the-wall eateries. In most parts of China, fried rice in restaurants such as these is priced in the mid single digits.
We topped it off with an order of gulaorou (sweet and sour pork).
China is known for cramped bus seats, and low hanging doorways, but this is something I had never previously come across in my travels: a miniature toilet. I tried to get the brooms and the trashcan in the picture to capture a relative size comparison, but let’s just say this contraption would have been ergonomically perfect for me when I was about 5. The characters on the wall read:
Bowel Movements Prohibited; The pipes will get clogged
Finally, here’s a shot at night of the tower pictured at the top of this post. If anybody knows the name and/or the history of this monument, please feel free to speak up in the comments section. It was quite a spectacle at night. I couldn’t help but wonder how often the sides have to be repaired from erhant motorists crashing into it.
After our 8 hour soujourn in Yangzhou, Tex and I caught the train back to Nanjing. The following morning Tex headed back to Wenzhou, and I took the bullet train to Shanghai, where I crashed for the evening with some old friends, hurridly stocked up on tea and supplies from a Fujianese tea shop, and then flew back to the US the following afternoon. After two weeks of non-stop fieldwork and writeups, and then two more weeks of travel through eight different cities, it had been my shortest (and most efficient) trip to China to date. I’ve got a few more posts in the works formulated from thoughts and experiences from the trip, but will probably shift the focus of this blog more towards Chicago (including the Chinese community here) in the coming months. As of now, I have no set plans for any future trips to China. Thanks to everybody for following this series, and I’ll do my best to keep the content flowing.
