Geography Lesson

Posted on July 24, 2006 by Meg

The other day I was doing a unit on countries and nationalities with my Korean students. We’re using a British book about Pierre from France, Carlos from Spain, Ivan from Russia and so forth. I realized it wasn’t too appropriate for them, so I added Midori from Japan, Lakshmi from India and Kim from Korea.

I’d barely finished writing “Korea” on the board, when Joh, one of my students, stopped me.

“No Korean in English class! You know that!” I told him. I love when I can actually see my students thinking, and I could see the wheels turning in Joh’s head. He’s in a beginning class so I didn’t expect too much from him.

“Japan tell Korea make K!” he shouted.

Now, I remember reading in Richard Kim’s Lost Names that the spelling was changed when Japan occupied Korea but that was before Joh was even born! I assumed Koreans would look at the Corea-Korea thing as a sidenote, the way a lot of Americans look at their Ellis Island misspellings. But Joh was struggling so hard with such a small vocabulary that it was clearly vitally important to him.

“Ok,” I said, and changed it to Corea.

Then I started to ask them where different people live, and what their nationalities are.

“Where does Midori live?” I asked.

“She lives in Japan!!!” my students all chorused.

“What is her nationality?”

“She is Japanese!!!”

One of my students was staying quiet. “Where does Carlos live?” I asked him.

Once again, I could see the wheels turning in his head.

“Carlos… lives… in…” He paused for a moment. “…in the book!”

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Connections

Posted on July 22, 2006 by Meg

One of the cool things about living alone is that my kitchen is full of little bottles of grapefruit juice, single-serve yogurts, instant noodles and beer. And that’s it. One of the less cool parts is that after I finally bought a new DVD player, I had to hook it up myself.

I’ve never had to do that before. I’ve always had a boyfriend, usually a computer geek or an engineer who regards anything with cables as his domain. I think Eric would have taken serious offence to me setting up my own PC. Zorro told me that all I have to do is match up the colors, and if I really can’t get figure it out, he’ll set it up for me when he comes over after class.

He was right, actually. But when I got the picture and sound of Harry Potter 2 on my TV, I still felt like I was splitting the atom!

When I changed jobs, I had to give up my DVD player and move away from my little corner market. I finally got the shopkeepers in my old mini-grocery trained to talk slowly and use short sentences. Basically, if I ask “Where’s the milk?” I can understand turn left, it’s on your right or we don’t have any, but not “Unfortunately, the supply truck is running late this week and we are expecting a delivery midafternoon. Why don’t you come back around 4?”

I found a new mini-grocery, but it’s not the same. The shopkeeper gasped when I spoke to him, and stammered “You speak Chinese! Listen, she is speaking Chinese!” which is flattering, if not accurate. But when I came up to the counter to pay for my warm Sprite, bottled water and yogurt, he punched in my total on a calculator and showed it to me. I just don’t get it. Does he think I learned “Where’s the strawberry yogurt?” and “Do you have any cold Sprite?” but not “15 kwai”? Or is it some kind of misguided politeness? Maybe treating me like I’m slow is an attempt to make things easier for me?

Hello? I can hook up a DVD player by myself! I’m not stupid!

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Remember that time?

Posted on July 19, 2006 by Meg

The thing is, everything in China relies on context.

It’s kind of like when you meet your boyfriend’s friends and they’re all “Remember that time? Hahahaha!” while you’re all “Hi, I’m Meg”. They use these half sentences and references to other things, and even an awesome girlfriend just can’t keep up.

In Norse mythology, each line of a story is a kenning, a reference to another story. If you’re well versed in the exploits of Thor and Freyja, the kennings are funny and clever. If you’re not, it’s an epic brainteaser.

There’s actually a Star Trek episode where the Next Gen crew runs into this race that only speaks in references to their history. I’m ok with something like “Caesar and Brutus in the forum,” but it’s hard when it’s “Bob and Joe last Thursday.”

China is an entire country like that. They’re this clique that’s been exclusive for 5,000 years and I just can’t fit in. There’s no need to explain things in China because there’s this cultural hivemind that’s able to understand everything from super-secret contextual clues.

Chinese is all about context. There are so many homonymns in the language, so you need a complete sentence to make sense. In fact, most Chinese jokes are puns that get huge laughs in Chinese but don’t translate particularly well. And there are also many words that aren’t really pronounced the same but I kind of pronounce them the same way. You need to use a complete sentence or a complete phrase because a couple syllables can be easily misunderstood. It doesn’t make sense unless you put into context.

When Zorro was helping me with my Chinese yesterday, he said I should try to speak faster and not draw out each syllable. He also said I’m using a Beijing accent. (Can you believe that? I know about 3 words and he’s criticizing my accent!)

So I try to speed up when I use Chinese. It’s another example of how Chinese is the opposite of English, because when my teenage girls mumble and speed though their answers, I make them stand up and shout each word.

“Shout it like Alice’s mean math teacher!” I tell them. Hey, it’s an inside joke. They understand.

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Team Building Activities in Yantai

Posted on July 19, 2006 by Meg

So someone at our office took this picture of our boss, Will, and someone printed it out and someone made little thought-bubbles of Will-isms and someone glued those bubbles to the picture and someone enlarged the picture and someone drew a little mustache and horns on Will and someone stuck it up on the dartboard and someone put darts in it. I’m not going to name names or anything but although I might have taken the photo, I don’t know how to make enlargements and I don’t have any darts.

Then we waited for Will to come back from Shanghai.

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Good Grammar

Posted on July 16, 2006 by Meg

Last night I was at the local “Western” coffeeshop with my coworker Dave. Dave’s got a bit of a crush on our waitress, and since I met her at my old school, I introduced them and then drank my beer while Dave told her how good her English is. Things were well on their way to a “practice English” date when she said:

“I’m not very good at English — I’m not an easy girl,”

“What a shame,” I said, between sips, “Dave really needs an easy girl,”

I moved my legs out of kicking range as she continued, “I memorize many words, but English grammar makes me too hard,”

“Don’t worry, it’s the same for us.” Dave said, sweetly, but then he couldn’t resist adding, “Your English grammar is certainly making me hard.”

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Not Tonight, I’m Washing My Hair

Posted on July 16, 2006 by Meg

My local supermarket, whether as a response to Wal-Mart or an object lesson in globalization, has started stocking Herbal Essences shampoo and Clean&Clear face wash. I’m not really into brand names, but it was great to see a logo I recognized. Also, a lot of Chinese lotions, face washes and sunscreens have a weird whitening agent in them, which is another reason to enjoy the American products.

In a Chinese supermarket, though, you can’t just pick what you want and walk over to the counter. You need to choose your toothpaste, then get walk over to the receipt counter, interrupt the employees conversation, hand in your toothpaste, get a receipt, then select your razor blades, walk over to the receipt counter, interrupt the employees conversation, hand in your razor blades, get a receipt, then select your shampoo, etc. etc.

It looks like the employees are standing around talking, but I learned yesterday that they have lightning-fast relexes. If you’re holding a bottle of shampoo and you pick up a tube of facewash, they will spring into action and snatch them from your hands. Even if you’re walking towards the register. Even if you can’t possibly be shoplifting because the entire staff of the Health&Beauty section, and most of Clothing, plus a couple of guys from Hardware, are watching you choose between Regular and Oily Skin facial wash.

But even that couldn’t take away my delight in my soon-to-be-clean pores and hair!

When my hippie mother was teaching me not to be brand-conscious, not to drink soda and not to watch television, she also taught me that money and products can’t bring happiness. But like her well-meant “It just feels like they’re all staring at you, Meg” in middle school, this is simply not true in China.

Excuse me, I have to go wash my hair.

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Dinner In China (again)

Posted on July 14, 2006 by Meg

Since I complained so much about Chinese dinners when I first arrived, I think I’ll tell you about a fun Yantai dinner.

A few nights ago, Dave, Zorro and I went out in search of Japanese food. Our coworker Ron told us a place to go, and can I just mention how funny Chinese directions are? Except for Zorro, we’re all functionally illiterate, so it’s not simple. We rely on an elaborate series of landmarks and memory kennings. Go to the corner where we got out of the taxi on the night we got lost coming back from Jackie’s. Turn left when you you see a reddish sign that has the character “East” on it. Go upstairs.

Ron told me “when you sit down, your feet will hang” and I said “Will my feet hang, or just yours?” Because it’s always funny to laugh at the short guy!

We found the place, and it was really pretty with sliding translucent doors and a table on the floor. Dave and I just watched Memoirs of a Geisha and so I poured the boys tea and showed my wrist. Dave said “when we get home (he’s from Manhattan), we’ll go out for sushi in the city” and we pre-remininced about what we’ll say next year about our life in China. We were straining Zorro’s Chinese skills to order, and when we finally got our food, we weren’t entirely sure what it was.

Dave asked Zorro to try it to make sure there’s no pork in it, because Dave’s trying to keep kosher (in China. Haha!). Zorro agreed, and began the Buddhist prayers he always recites before eating.

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Lost On Liu Gong Island

Posted on July 14, 2006 by Meg

Yesterday, Dave and I set out for Dalian… which turned into Weihai when we found that the ferry times had changed. I wanted to see Weihai to find out what I gave up for my new school. Just kidding, guys! Weihai is a short ferry ride from Liu Gong Island, which is famous (at least in the Lonely Planet) for a scenic hike, a mountainside cablecar, an old church, older temples and the site of a Chinese defeat by the Japanese in the 1890’s. Being the educated and culturally sensitive travellers that we are, we thought it would be interesting to see the monument to a defeat and if the cablecar wasn’t that great, we’d find a beachside bar.

We took a ferry from the quay at Weihai to Liu Gong Island. I have to admit that I love boats and half the reason I wanted to go to Dalian was to take the ferry from Yantai. On the island, though, we were underwhelmed with the tour groups in their matching hats, with the entrance fee for the park, and with the local cuisine. (In Penglai, we resolved never to eat in restaurants that have dirty plastic tubs of apathetic eels on the floors) We found and avoided a small Chinese zoo. I don’t know how anyone can enjoy visiting a collection of skinny, sickly animals resting in the shadiest part of their small cages. Most zoos have feral cats that steal the animals food and hiss at visitors.

We climbed up these stairs, resting at several conveinient archways along the way. It was beautiful and relaxing.

At the top SOMEONE had the great idea of walking though the forest. And someone else agreed with him. If you’re confused by my refusal to name names, I’ll remind you that the people on this trip are Dave and Meg.

I enjoyed the walk. It was as clean and as unpopulated as a place can be in China. There were lovely flowers, and all kinds of plants I couldn’t recognize. As the forest turned into real Heart of Darkness jungle, I decided to tell Dave the truth.

“Um, Dave?” I said, “My boyfriend’s affectionate name for me is No Sense Of Direction Girl. I might have forgotten to mention that.”

Dave did NOT push me off the path into the scenic gorge, which was quite nice of him. We continued for a while, dive-bombed by dragonflies and bitten by jungle insects, playing the game ex-pats use to torture themselves called What would you eat if you could have anything you wanted for one meal? Then we realized that we hadn’t heard voices for a long time, and that we had a limited amount of time to get the last ferry back to Weihai.

We established that a Friendly’s franchise would make good money in Yantai, and I was secretly wondering if I’d end up sleeping in this house. And then, through the trees, we saw a gray fortress. I thought we must be near the quay, or at the very least, we were near people who could tell us how to get to the ferry.

Wrong!

Apparently, there’s a Chinese naval base on this island.

A man came out and yelled at us to go away. I enjoyed the novelty of being greeted with something besides “Hello!” (followed by errupting into giggles) or “Laowai!” but I was a bit annoyed that he wouldn’t tell us where to do. Then again, walking into a naval base and repeating “Where boat?” in bad Chinese is probably not too bright.

We walked around to the other side of the base, but a man ran out to shut the gates and tell us to go away. Did I mention it was hot? David led me on a “shortcut” through a field, which was probably one of the most gorgeous places I’ve seen in China.

His shortcut led to civilization… the naval barracks. Groups of men would comes running out in formation, and see me and fall out of step into a crowd of gawkers.

At last we found a hut that had been abandoned for years. Well, that’s what it looked like, but actually, it was a shop, although I’m not sure what they were selling besides flies. The shopkeeper was asleep on the floor inside, but she woke up and tried to sell us things.

She shows David 2 bottles of ice water for 10 yuan ($1.20). Now, remember that we’ve been lost in the jungle! For hours! In July! And that we still don’t know if we’ll make the last ferry!

So he did the only sensible thing to do. He talked her down to 6 kwai.

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Cheesy Pop Song

Posted on July 12, 2006 by Meg

I talked to Stick last night in my pre-visit freakout. Because I haven’t seen him in so long, I feel like this is going to be a first date. In a way, I’m excited about it. I love first dates, and I haven’t had one since I was 22 (it was Stick then, too). But I’ve never had a two-week long first date in a semi-developed country.

Anyway, Stick asked me what I could say in Chinese. I thought for a moment how unimpressive What time is the bus? and Check please! sound, and then sang him the famous Mice Love Rice song. Thanks to constant exposure for the last five months, I know all the words. In America, the top 40 songs tend to be overplayed, while in China, there are only 5 songs on every radio station, in every shop and in every bar.

“It means I love you, loving you, like a mouse loves rice,” I said, as I finished my musical debut.

“Rice? No cheese?” Stick asked, “Are Chinese mice lactose intolerant, too?”

i told him about my mouse-teacher confusion. Lao shu is mouse and lao shi is teacher, and they sound exactly the same to my Western ears. This is why I’m so awful at speaking Chinese. “And that’s why I thought it was about a teacher loving rice.” I finished.

“Maybe you’re right.” Stick said, “Maybe it’s ‘I love you like a foreign teacher who doesn’t like Chinese food likes rice’? Meg, you have your own song!”

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Presents From Home!

Posted on July 11, 2006 by Meg

Yesterday I was in the office and Will says “Meg! I have to talk to you!” Briefly entertaining fantasies that this conversation would involve my school-sponsored bar tab, I followed him.

“Who do you know called Katherine?” he asked.

I blinked for a moment.

“Katherine ThoroughlyUnpronouncableLastName?” he asked.

“Katie! Katie and Scep! Did they send me a letter? Is is a wedding announcement?”

“They sent you a package, but to get it, you have to tell me something nice–“

“Ok! Your hair looks a lot better since you cut it! Give me my package!”

“Something nice about Philly.” Will said, “Or you can tell me something bad about New Jersey,”

It’s usually not hard to get me to say something bad about my home state, BUT I’m not going to bash it for a Philly boy! And I have a little problem with doing what I’m told to do.

“Ok. Philly is nicer than New Orleans doing the hurricane, safer than the Gaza strip and smells better than chou douf!”

I eventually got my package, which did include their wedding announcement (I guess Scep’s really getting married!), and Katie sent me a mini-Etch-a-Sketch, markers, jewelry, two books of Mad Libs and other toys.

Scep sent me a flag with a Jimmy Buffet parrot and a daquiri that says “It’s Five O’Clock Somewhere”. I plan to stick it on my door so my apartment is different from all the faded New Years banners.

They also sent me a Poe collection. I recently read The Purloined Letter and loved it. (If you thought Poe only wrote macabre buried-alive stories, you should check out his detective stories, they’re like good Arthur Conan Doyle mysteries) Now that I live alone in a creaky house, though, the only place suitable for reading Poe is in the middle of the park in broad daylight.

These are just some of the many reasons I love Scep and Katie.

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