Thursday, March 26, 2009

Paddy Cakes; Jews; Cripples; Toilets; Heels; Dogs; Korean Meat-Water

Paddy Cakes:

We went on a field trip to Shanghai. On the train ride there, my cherubic classmates—still bulging with the expansive joy that comes only from having no idea where money comes from and knowing for certain that candy is the ideal food and that pain is the sensation that comes mainly from excessive laughter—set about an intensive review of each and every form of Paddy Cakes.

After being subjected to various types of harassment and sugar-borne bribery, I relented and played their Paddy Cake games, with some vigor I think at first. But soon I realized the deep downside of good humor and innocence. These jolly Indonesians have a different playbook. It's something akin to New Math—all answers are praiseworthy, or at least fun for having tried. All punitive aspects have been removed from their games. The Agony of Defeat has been replaced with the joy of camaraderie. The Spoils of Victory have been replaced with the joys of togetherness. Even in knuckle-busting-hand-slap type games, they reduce the knuckle-smack to a 2-fingered caress. Failure in group-memory games results in the loser receiving a back massage. That, I can't abide.

Jews Are Good With Money:

On our trip to Shanghai, our tour guide sat at the front of the bus, broadcasting information and telling stories about the places we would be attending. She would say, "So we're going to Hangzhou now, yea, Hangzhou, where they make silk, yes silk. In Hangzhou they make the silk. Yes, in Hangzhou."

She used this sort of final-word-repetition construction almost exclusively throughout the 3-day trip. As we approached the city of Suzhou, she illuminated the local economic situation for us: "So now we're going to Suzhou, yeah Suzhou. Economy in Suzhou very developed. Lots of rich people in Suzhou. Yeah, in Suzhou, they've got the money. People say that Suzhou people are like the Jews, yes, the Jews, Chinese Jews, they are the best with the money. Yes, they money. Like the Jews."

Interestingly, Suzhou people are not the only ones laying claim to the title of "Chinese Jews." When I taught in Guangzhou, I was told constantly that people from Chaozhou are the real "Chinese Jews." Others say it's the people from Wenzhou. Will the real Chinese Jews please commence shukkeling?

Accidentally Meeting A Cripple:

Later she told us (unprompted) how she met her husband: online. "Yes, online I met him. Online. Some people maybe think this is strange. You are chatting online and maybe it is dangerous. Yes, dangerous. You could be chatting and you like this person, maybe in love, but actually in fact he could be a disabled or very ugly or fat. Yes, fat. You don't know. Maybe he is crippled or something."

But he could be a Jew. Yes a Jew. Good with the money.

When A Man Asks You What Time It Is:

In Shanghai, having finally liberated myself from the tyranny of consequence-free Paddy Cakes, I absconded and went to a ghetto dance club. After imbibing several adult beverages at post-apocalyptic prices, I needed to shake the dew off my tulip. Sidled up to the porcelain coffin, I let nature run its course. Suddenly, to my left, a small yet burly chrome-domed Asian man in a fine 3-piece suit posed the following question in heavily accented English, "You wouldn't happen to know what time it is, would you, friend?"

I responded, mid-flow, "I haven't worn a watch since I was a child. Since I stopped believing in time and talking to strangers."

What a High-Heeled Boot Does For a Woman:

Frankly speaking, Asian women take much more pride in their appearance than their Western counterparts. Take 10 women at random from any U.S. college campus and 10 more from Beijing Language and Culture University. Seven out of 10 from BLCU will be both more physically fit, and more fashionably dressed. A lot of them wear nice high-heeled boots. Nevertheless, the last 3 representatives from the U.S. contingent will simply have a higher octane rating. They're just hotter. They've got more to offer. Generally, they have stopped sucking their thumbs by the time they enter college. But I digress.

The high-heeled boot. What is it doing?

Mainly, it speaks of thrust. Of ascent. Defiance. It speaks of triumph. It creates a wholesome momentum, propelling the body forward as it lifts and gently trains the flesh to inhabit its proper location—righteously high and tight, as the Good Lord clearly intended.

Flip-flops, sublime in their adherence to lowest-common-denominator democratic fashion ideals, negate the high-heeled boot in every way. Wear at your own peril.

Chinese Dogs:

They are often swaddled in doggie coats. They don't bark much. They walk without leashes. The master or mistress gives few commands, yet the beast follows. Sometimes one master leads 3 or more dogs through obstacles such as outdoor Tai Chi classes, kiddie playgrounds, kaleidoscopic traffic, and other groups of unleashed dogs. They don't run away. They don't fight much with the other dogs. They don't really look at the master either. They just stay near. Dog-handling "with Chinese characteristics" perhaps.

Once, on vacation in a rural area, my Mother spotted a lone Water Buffalo unfenced and grazing peacefully in a rice paddy. She asked the local guide why the Buffalo doesn't run away. The guide, rather baffled by the question answered, "Well, the cow loves us."

The Study of Chinese Breaks Good Minds:

There is a French woman in my class. She just turned 60. She's been studying Chinese in France for more than 3 years. Her vocabulary is vast. Her understanding of grammar is deep and thorough. And yet, each and every word that comes out of her mouth is completely unintelligible. The French accent, as we know, is already comic and absurd. Her French accent rendered through the cataracted and milken eye of the Chinese language is incommensurable with human thought. I hear her speak and keep looking for the hidden camera. Our teachers strain to squash their grimace. In her, "a little knowledge can be dangerous" finds it's full expression.

Example: I'd like to teach you some new math. I learned a lot about numbers. Some are even and some are odd. In my math system, nothing adds up, ever. Nothing subtracts either. Multiplication is division and vice-versa. Sometimes numbers are colors. Interested? This is what it's like I think for a Chinese person to hear less than excellent Chinese.

There are many ways for the study of Chinese to break a good mind. One is simply being overwhelmed by the enormity of the task. People get a taste for what it's like to write a few hundred characters from memory and they start saying things like, "I'm not really a classroom guy" or "I'm gonna study this stuff when I get back to Germany." Broken.

Another is the constant humiliation delivered by the apparently simple aspects of Chinese grammar. There is a particle, "le," whose fluent usage is critical to speaking well. Its main purpose is to indicate past tense, but "le" also indicates a change of state and also a strange kind of persistent past. This topic is introduced and well understood by everyone in the first few weeks. But then time passes and you realize you don't really understand it. What is it? When can I use it? Where must I use it?

Then the lesson comes again. A review. You welcome the return. Yes, I understand this…there are 3 kinds of "le" or is it 4? Then, later it comes again and still no one really understands it. Then, a sentence appears with 4 kinds of "le" in it. Broken.

I've spoken with students who have been studying for several years and they will quietly admit they don't know what to do with it and certainly couldn't give a fail-safe example of how to use/not use this thing. "I'll study this stuff when I get back to….." Broken.

I asked an Indonesian woman from another class how she was finding the study of Chinese. She, who already speaks several languages fluently, responded in Chinese: "I think it's not that hard. The grammar is pretty simple and the tones aren't all that difficult."

Problem is, strictly speaking, what she actually said was something like, "Usually I like Korean meat-water, but meat in my toes is ok too." Broken.


Faithfully Yours,
Temple

P.S. Pictured below is the author, broken by irrepressible Indonesian joy, the French accent, and Chinese grammar, riding a 3-headed dog car outside a grocery store in Hangzhou.

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