Back to my old tricks…

Well, it’s been fun re-cutting our Chinese chops this past week. It’s amazing how quickly we’ve become a bit rusty in the language after a couple of months of straight English. It’s coming back quickly though (thank goodness!), and we’re finding our way just fine.

It wouldn’t be right though, without one nice huge mistake to start the new year off. On the phone with our ayi, I told her that the characters in the note she left us were “ugly” instead of “difficult for me to read” – (characters are already difficult to read, and then try to read someone’s quick cursive handwriting). Luckily, as time goes on here, I am able to catch my own mistakes, and I quickly told her that her handwriting was not ugly, just difficult to read. She’s used to us by now though, and thought nothing of it.

Little whiteskin

Leo attracts the funniest remarks while out and about town. His skin is so pale in comparison with the deep tan of the Chinese. A common remark we hear in passing is “So cute! Such white skin!”

The other day while he was playing he attracted a small crowd of grandmas. One came right up to him and said to the rest in Chinese: “Look! Little whiteskin!”

Thoughts of old cowboy films flashed across my mind: “Me Redman. You take um horses and go.” The similarity to the old theatrical language was just too close to pass up a comparison!

The Neighborhood Watch

In the past two months, our Ayi has begun to take Leo outside to play during her shifts. Before that, we were a little too worried about him being outside without one of us. But now that he’s a big bad 18 month old – we figure he can handle it and our nanny has proven herself capable of caring for him mostly according to our liking. She still puts multiple layers of clothing on him (sometimes he’s a little too warm when I get home, and I have to strip a layer or two off), and every once in a while she sneaks in a few contraband crackers/sweets, but for the most part, she honors our standards. We joke that she is like his Chinese grandma, and she feels that way too. After 10 months of caring for him, the two of them are peas in a pod in some ways.

A few days after I agreed to let her take Leo out during her shifts, I was doing some shopping at the vegetable market down our street. As usual, the neighbors were all gathered on the street, chatting and joking around. Two ladies and a security guard began playing with Leo, and soon another little boy about his age was in on the action. As they were all having a good time laughing at the little ones trying to climb onto a few stools they had set out, I began chatting with a couple of neighborhood ladies. They instantly began to tell me how things were going with Leo and our nanny. The ladies gave me a full report on their activities outside – how long they were out, what they did, where they went, and who they talked to and played with. I gladly received this information, because although I knew that it was good for Leo to get out of the house with Ayi, it still makes me nervous, even now. I had reiterated a list of rules for her (don’t let other people kiss him, take him out of your sight, or feed him anything, and watch him like a hawk, because he moves fast and the streets are narrow), but all rules aside, it was new territory for me as a mother to have Leo outside in China without a parent. I apparently had nothing to worry about though, because everyone in our neighborhood knows Leo and they were keeping an eye on him just as our ayi was. The report was mostly positive; the ladies’ only exception was that they felt Leo was out a bit too long for his own good.

One of the ladies then asked me, “Does your ayi have culture?” This took me a few seconds to digest, and I truly wasn’t sure how to respond. I sort of knew the answer was no, but I didn’t have any intention of belittling our ayi. I wasn’t sure if I said yes, was I going to look silly? If I said no, was I going to be speaking unkindly? This is one of the challenges of language, the uncertainty of the nuances and meanings of certain words in certain circumstances. I didn’t have to worry about how to answer for long though, because the other lady piped in, “Certainly she does not have culture; she’s from the countryside.” So I surmised that culture meant being from the city and having some education. They didn’t approve of this either, but I assured them that she was very warm and loved Leo very much, and it didn’t matter to us that she was from the countryside. They seemed to accept this. In some ways, being a foreigner is easier than being a local because we can get away with not conforming to certain social standards because we are outsiders. So if I think it’s okay to have an uncultured nanny for my son, then people are for the most part accepting of that and chalk it up to me being a foreigner, even if they think it’s wrong.

Speaking of the language, Leo is starting to sound more and more Chinese as the days pass. We are starting to be more intentional about speaking English with him, as his Chinese is arguably better than his English at the moment. I come home from work to find Leo saying, “Dui!” (Yes or Correct) and “Diaole!” (It fell!) and “Baobao” (Pick me up!). His language is a bit behind his peers, but his comprehension is not. Which, from all reports we’ve heard of children raised in bilingual settings, this language lag is pretty normal and he should catch up as the Chinese and English sort themselves out in his mind. The funniest part is that recently, I’ve had people begin to ask me (when just the two of us are out together) if his Dad is Chinese. People even debate about which of his facial characteristics come from his father (who must be Chinese). Last time I checked, JM was most certainly European American, and I do explain this to dubious strangers on busses and in stores. I really think that the people of China just want to claim Leo as their own, and who can blame them? He’s a pretty cute kid!

You are just too annoying!

It often happens here that we’d like to thank people for their kindness. Like the wonderful lovely waitress at our favorite Indian restaurant who gave us a free order of nan on our anniversary and who watches Leo for us for a few minutes so we can eat. Or, another example, when JM was in Tibet and I was having trouble one night with a very tired Leo who needed to go to bed, the restaurant at the bottom of our building delivered dinner to my door without asking for anything in return. These are the moments, among many here, for which we are very grateful for people’s help and generosity. Naturally we want to say thank you, and tell people how kind they are.

Now, here’s where things went wrong for a while. It turns out that I’ve been mispronouncing the word “kind” for a good number of months. And, unfortunately, my pronunciation does make another real Chinese word. It’s also an adjective, so it’s pretty close. Except it means “annoying” rather than kind. Oops. So I’ve been telling our sweet waitress how annoying she’s been when she’s watched Leo for us, and thanked our generous downstairs restaurant owners for being so annoying. Nice of me, eh?

Thankfully, actions speak louder than words, so I’ve never offended anyone. It’s clear by my smile and behavior that I’m grateful and not annoyed. But I am grateful that I now know, and can look a little less foolish and a little more polished in the future. No one has ever corrected my pronunciation (it’s a rare thing here anyway; I actually wish people corrected me more often!). I only found out because JM and I were having a debate over it in a taxi one day, and we looked it up at home (I lost that debate!).

Animal intelligence

We are proud to say that Leo is now as smart as a dog!

He has been watching his baby videos a lot lately, one of which explains basic body motions: waving, jumping, spinning, etc. One day we told him to sit down. He looked us straight in the eye, and sat down on the floor.

We have a baby who can follow directions on an animal intelligence level!

But what is even better is that Leo is as smart as a Chinese dog. When Leo climbs on our chair, his nanny tells him in Chinese, “Climb down!” He understands her! In fact, he understands many of her directions, including to give her a kiss, to come over, and even when not to do something.

He must have heard this last one a lot, because now he repeats the words himself, in Chinese! “Bu yao!” – the most important word that children learn in early years – “No!”

Leo has a big head start in a language that has taken us full time study to grasp even a beginner’s command. We’re eager for him to graduate to full rational speech, a bilingual one at that!

Quote of the Day

In JM’s tutoring session one student made a memorable comment:

“I like to eat fish brains, not duck brains.”

What did he say?

We have a foreign friend who does business in China who we met in class last term. He often has meetings with Chinese contacts over dinner, a very traditional way of doing business here. The fact that for personal reasons he doesn’t drink alcohol or eat pork sometimes makes for interesting cross-cultural interactions.

A few days ago, he met with about five clients at a restaurant, but allowed his interpreter to do all of the food ordering. Having said very little up to this point, he appeared to the clients to be unable to speak Chinese. When his food preferences became obvious, the clients started talking among themselves:

“This guy doesn’t eat any pork?”
“No, and he doesn’t drink alcohol either.”
“Really? Wow- his life really isn’t very interesting!”

Our good-natured friend decided to pipe up at this point in his defense: “Because I don’t eat pork or drink, you think my life doesn’t have any interest?”

Jaws dropped, followed by swift apologies and assurances that that wasn’t what was meant. He took the comment in stride, but from that moment the negotiations went a lot more smoothly for him!

Everyday Life

I sit here writing with a VERY full stomach because I’ve just been stuffed to the gills with Jiaozi (dumplings) and fruit by my neighbor downstairs (this happened after I’d already eaten lunch, but I couldn’t refuse…). She is one of Leo’s many good friends, and we don’t pass by her place often without taking a piece of fruit or a little toy home with us. She also happens to be a chef (lucky us!). Our nanny brings Leo down to her place to visit every once in a while, and I have the sinking suspicion that she’s told them we don’t cook (which right now is basically true – things being as busy as they are and food being as cheap as it is, we eat out rather often during the school term to save time). I think our neighbors and our ayi feel like they need to take care of us ‘poor kids’ right now because gifts of food have suddenly become rather frequent. Our Ayi made us lunch once last week without us asking, and our other neighbor brought us some big giant stuffed dumplings last week as well. I now have a pile of beautiful homemade jiaozi in my fridge ready to be warmed up and eaten. I have no idea how to repay all this kindness!

We had quite a conversation about why our parents aren’t here living with us and helping out. I explained that it’s just not the custom, although we’d welcome their presence if they wanted to come. I didn’t even go into how many brothers and sisters we each have, because it’s just such shocking news here sometimes! She then gave me instructions about how to feed Leo and proceeded to give me some food that she had bought for him. I invited her to come over for tea, and I’m sure she will. She’s a delightful neighbor and Leo gets a HUGE kick out of her. It took me 45 minutes to calm him down for a nap after our visit!

Our neighbors and the shopkeepers in our neighborhood have generally accepted that we are going to be here for a while. I have to plan extra time for errands because we make many stops along the way, chatting with different shopkeepers and bosses, security guards and merchants, neighbors, and old ladies taking walks.

Classes are going well, and we continue to learn much, especially from our mistakes. My latest gaffe was to proclaim, “Women only have to start smoking cigarettes, and then they will become pregnant.” Thankfully, I was only with my good friend and tutor, and after she stopped laughing at me, she corrected my faulty speech.

Saving Face…

Yesterday, after trying on several pieces of clothing at a small shop, I told the shop assistant, “Zhexie bu xiang.” Which, roughly translated, means, “I wouldn’t like these.” I thought that was a simple enough phrase – it did the job and I even used the form of the verb “to want” (there are two) that has a softer edge. Usually, when I don’t want something, I say, “Bu yao, xiexie.” (I don’t want, thank you). This form of want (yao), conveys a stronger meaning, but when said correctly, it isn’t rude – just very direct. I use it all the time at restaurants and in the marketplace with no problems. JM has been encouraging me to try saying, “Bu xiang” instead of “Bu yao” – to be a little less direct. So, I thought I would try it out.

Imagine my surprise when the shopkeeper laughed right out loud! I was a bit taken aback, realizing I must have said something wrong, but not quite certain exactly what could have been wrong with three simple words. I looked at JM, and he just shrugged. The shopkeeper quickly corrected my language, and told me to say instead, “It’s not ok.” So today, during my lesson, I of course asked my tutor what caused the problem. She said my grammar was fine, but my cultural awareness was lacking. By using that form of the verb, I was implying that I didn’t want the clothing, partly because I didn’t like it (which is a bit of an affront to the store), and partly because I couldn’t afford it (which causes embarrassment to me). She told me that I should have made up a reason why I didn’t want the clothing (wrong size, wrong color, bad fit…) – ANYTHING but imply that I couldn’t afford it or that I straightforwardly just didn’t like it.

I’m going to have to get used to this, as my first inclination is to politely tell it like it is. Luckily, here, I have no choice but to think before I talk (since Chinese doesn’t quite come naturally yet!), so I don’t imagine I’ll make this mistake twice.

But do you really speak English?

As I (JM) left Chinese class a week ago, someone handed out flyers advertising a chance to teach English part-time over the summer.  It sounded interesting, so I followed up and arranged a meeting with them.  It’s a ten-day English camp for middle schoolers, geared towards preparing a creative performance for the students to put on at end of the camp.

I went to the interview and was very interested by their description of the program, and they seemed to like my resume.  In fact, they offered me a position on the staff team of 10 teachers on the spot.  I was thrilled- my first job in China!  The camp will take place in July.

Walking out of the office I entered the elevator to go back downstairs.  The manager came running out behind me, calling for me to hold the doors.  She got in and accompanied me downstairs.  "My colleague just pointed out to me that I hired you for an English teaching job, but, we didn’t hear you speaking any English!"

It hit me that I had been responding to all of her interview questions in Chinese!  To the best of my ability, I avoided using English, and must have only spoken two or three sentences in total that I didn’t know how to express in Chinese.  Wow!  This semester of study has brought me a lot further than I first realized.

I reassured her, in English, that English speaking is not a problem for me!