I'm feeling tea

I've been feeling particularly sad this week. A family friend died at the weekend. Someone too young to have gone so soon. I feel sad, I miss my family, I miss my friends and being able to use my own language to explain how I feel. It can be very hard to say what's on your mind or in your heart in another language. Especially when (if said incorrectly) the word for 'bad' can mean 'tea', and, like me, you regularly confuse the words for 'it's a shame' with 'it's laughable'! However, it's reassuring to me that my linguistic blunders are available in times of sadness to provide mild entertainment.

 

Today, one of my teachers spent a lesson talking very openly about her experience during the long march, her re-education period and the cultural revolution. This lively vibrant woman, who I see as a cross between a Beijing opera singer and Mrs Miggins, was made to walk around the university in a dunce's cap for teaching foreigners, with a placard to criticise her own bourgeois behaviour. Teacher Qin is a kind of cuddly grandmotherly figure - all round and splodgy. I've never actually given her a cuddle - which I know will surprise many of you given my fondness for cuddles with people I know, people I don't know, small animals etc. She spent a summer working in sweltering temperatures in a  smelting works, and then went to the countryside for several years - and required to do the lowest jobs in a small village.  She also had to take part in a 'short' long march, walking around 50miles a day for 45 days. What a shocking way to spent your 'prime'!

 

I have read so many books about this period of time, and even though the history around it is familiar to me - having a much loved teacher describe all of this was a bit much. A bit like finding out that your grandmother had some horrible experience that should never have happened.

 

Another student (quite bravely, I thought) asked what she thought of her experience.

 

She threw back her head and laughed her tinkling sing-songy laugh and said "What do I think? I think Teacher Qin is no longer afraid of anything".

 

So, tonight I am going to raise a cup of tea (or a 'cup of bad') to not being afraid of anything, and to Lola, who it seems was also not afraid of anything.

A fishy tale

Recently I was in vegetarian restaurant having a very delicious lunch
when a Dutch man and his mother came in and sat in the courtyard
outside. Through the window it seemed that they were having some
trouble ordering their lunch, the waitress came in and asked me to go
out and translate for them - instant ego boost, much fluffing of
feathers and out I trot to dazzle everyone with my linguistic
skills....

....me being me, that's not exactly what happened.

The man wanted to order a fish dish - it's typical in China for all
veggie food to be made to look and taste like meat (bit of a bugger if
you're one of those veggies who is veggie because you don't like the
taste and texture of meat!) so you can order
'chicken','beef','duck','snails' etc and it all appears to be the real
thing. The man, who I have to add was extremely grumpy, wanted to know
if the fish dish was very large because he was very hungry and thought
it might not be big enough to satisfy him. He was very sure he only
wanted this type of fish, and no rice, no other vegetables and no soup
- which is a pretty odd way to eat in China so the waitress was
already doubting my translation skills. I kept asking her 'how big is
the fish?' and her reply was 'it's not really a fish'. I was getting
more and more frustrated and she was acting as though I was barking
mad. This went on for several minutes before I realised I was asking
her repeatedly 'how old is your fish?'.

Eventually, the dishes were ordered and I was allowed to go back to my
table very red-faced. The man and his mother ended up with fish, side
dishes of veg and rice - I overheard the waitress telling a colleague
that the foreign girl's Chinese wasn't so good after all and so they'd
better give them everything! The Dutch man was even grumpier at having
been given all the things he said he didn't want!

More practise needed!

A China Man

It seems that Chinese masculinity is defined in very different ways to the Western idea of 'what makes a man'.

 

I am still tickled whenever I see a man carrying a pink glittery handbag with Hello Kitty on it - at first I thought the Chinese man bag was just a bit different from our UK-style - but soon learnt that the bag belongs to a lady, and he's just carrying it for her. It's seen as polite to carry your girlfriend's bag for her, the equivalent of carrying someone's books home from school. However, I'm pretty sure that if my book bag had been lilac, sequined and had butterflies all over it, it would have been up to me to carry it! I 

hope that when Sam arrives this week (I am aiming, of course, to avoid telling the taxi driver about my beloved's masturbation habits), he will adopt this practice so that I can laugh at him carrying my ladybag!

 

Another quirk of Chinese fellas is that they don't seem to mind wearing matching T-shirts with their girlfriends/wives.It's common place among younger people to see couples strolling around in matching pink tops with kittens/monkeys/bunnies/anything else cute and fluffy emblazoned on the front. There are special his'n'hers glittery matching t-shirt shops all over Shanghai. I asked a friend (who was wearing a pink t-shirt with a bear on it to match his wife's) if there was anything special about this habit - I didn't want to say that at home I couldn't think of anyone who would wear a pink bear t-shirt to match his beloved's and that us foreigners think it's pretty funny that Chinese men do. His answer "Oh, this t-shirt's cute, I like cute things and so does my wife!". I'm not sure what answer I expected, but it wasn't that.

 

Shanghainese men are seen as special in China - they cook, they clean, they run households. In general, Chinese men from other places see Shanghainese men as the inferior Chinese man. However, Shanghainese men pertain that they are the manliest men because they can take care of everyone in the family and have a job etc etc.

 

It's a whole new world of macho.

Break in Transmission

A longer-than-intended break. I am being censored by the Chinese
firewalls - so I can't see my blog from China, or publish photos from
China or do as much as I would like from China!

However, as the Chinese would say "wo you ban fa" - "I have a way".

I'm back!

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.