A Chinese Voice Makes David Beckham More Attractive

Today I had a satisfying lesson.

 

My teacher asked me if Victoria Beckham was the most famous singer in Britain - and it set me off on a rant about the Beckhams. They are impressive because they are famous and their business sense is admirable, but I don't particularly like either of them. OK, so he can kick a ball, and she looks nice in clothes but there's not much else that I would credit them with. In fact, I just find them a bit irritating!

 

I went on to explain that although a lot of people think Mr Beckham is very good looking, as soon as he opens his mouth and the little squeaky voice comes out, I think his chiseled jaw fades into insignificance. I can't overlook (or overlisten?!) that he sounds like a small child when he speaks and this makes him unattractive in my view. My teacher said that Asian girls really like David Beckham and he's often voted "best looking" man etc. However, I think this is because the men who dub Mr Beckham's voice into Chinese, Korean and Japanese have really deep, manly voices. According to the news here, David Beckham kicked a ball for 12 minutes at the weekend (oh how I would love to know what's REALLY going on in the world!) and while watching his face and listening to the Chinese dub artist speak, I realised that Mr Beckham was becoming more and more attractive!!

 

However, I write this not because I am particularly interested in whether the Beckhams are worthy of their fame or not, but to celebrate having the above conversation completly in Chinese. Six months down, six months of studying at Fudan left to go.

School's Out for Summer (well, for some people anyway)

Last week my semester at Fudan ended. It was a strange mixture of exams and farewells as many beloved classmates go back to their home countries, or move to other cities in China. We had a lovely party last week and I had a little blub (quite an achievement for me - just a little one not a full on sob) as my classmates have been such great fun for the last 5 months.

 

So, what now?

 

Summer school!!! Miss Freya is taking daily classes in business Chinese and working on grammar, writing characters and getting these damned tones sorted out. I have made progress, I am no longer monotone when I speak Chinese - but now I have 3 tones and not the necessary 4! For some reason, I cannot get any distinction between the 2nd and 3rd tones.

 

As well as going to school, I'm also teaching a lot more classes. All my childhood dreams of "being a teacher just like Miss McGowan" are coming true. Well, almost. My little Watermelon Boy told me he loved me on Saturday morning, right after singing "heads, shoulders, knees and toes" all the way through. Adorable.

 

I am learning that the elements of Chinese culture that are more familiar (working hard, being able to repeat something over and over and over again until it is perfect, constant practise) are necessary to learn Chinese. For example, remembering each individual character which may or may not have any clues contained within it as to its meaning or its pronunciation. I can't decide if it's fascinating, or frustrating (or perhaps a nice mixture of the two 'frasctrinating').  There is no "quick" way to learn any language - no fast road you can take - but there's only a slow boat to Chinese with very few short cuts. However, I'm on board. I've got a merry band of sailors with me and the captains not bad so here's to a safe passage!

The Wonder of "Watermelon"

So, the burning question appears to be "why hasn't Miss Freya been writing her stories?". I'm afraid I don't have a sufficient answer for my recent neglect. The adventure in Shanghai continues though with a little less time for amusing anecdotes.

 

I started teaching a few months ago to keep my funds healthy for next semester.

I'm teaching at a small school in the south of Shanghai. On Friday and Saturday I teach nippers, and on Sunday I teach adults. My kids class has one student who has found a special place in my affections. His name is James, he's 6 and he's quite possibly got the most perfectly spherical head possible. Think watermelon. For the first few weeks, the only word in English that my little watermelon could say was "James". So, ask him any questions - how old are you? Where do you live? What's your favourite colour? - he's reply with "James". As my Larry told me, I was just asking the wrong question! For weeks, it was "James", "James", "James', "James" until last weekend when suddenly his vocabulary had amazingly opened up to days of the week, colours, numbers, animals, fruit and vegetables. Incredible. The penny dropped! My new favourite pass time is to make sure that during lessons James gets to say "Watermelon" at least twice as it never fails to make me laugh. It's very easy to find work here if you are a native English speaker - though sadly, because it's so easy, a lot of the English teachers here are loons. For example, teaching primary school children songs about how to kill themselves etc. It makes me want to get on my soap box and lobby for some kind of regulation of foreign English teachers here - but for now, I'm focusing on my Chinese literacy so that when I do write a letter to the Chinese Government to suggest this change in legislation it makes some sort of sense. Better get back to "the monkey is in the tree, the monkey is on the roof..."

 

Aside from teaching, the studying continues. Exams started yesterday - and continue throughout next week. My pronunciation has taken a turn for the worst, but my writing has perked up. I long for the day when all skills are at roughly the same level! I'm continuing class throughout the summer so hopefully will move up a level or two before next semester starts.

 

I haven't had a language disaster in a while, but I'm sporting a beautiful collection of bruises. Last weekend a friend of mine got engaged. The first time I saw her after I'd heard the news, I started to race along the corridor hoping for a Kylie and Jason style hug to congratulate her. Sadly, my flip flops did not agree with my plan. I was within one foot of Irene when the flip flops decided that this hug was unnecessary and it would be much better if I fell over. In a cartoon fashion my feet came up in front of me, and I slapped the concrete corridor - like a reverse belly flop - and my my bottom, my elbows, and my lower back are fashionable shades of purple. Next time, I think I'll just stick with sending a card, far safer.