Beijing: A Trip Done Right

Reasons I wasn't looking forward to Beijing:

- It is cold.

- The pollution is terrible. Black mucus comes out of people's noses when they sneeze.

- There's a much greater sense of the government's presence.

- I don't like Beijing people's accents. 

- To get there, I have to take the high-speed rail or a Chinese airline. I don't fully trust either.

I visited Beijing mainly because I felt it was my duty to see the Great Wall while I am in China. What I expected to be a mediocre three-day weekend characterized by complaints about terrible pollution and demanding travel ended up being my favorite trip yet. Beijing must have known we were visiting because for nearly our entire stay, we were greeted with nothing but bright blue skies. At a leisurely pace, we saw everything we had hoped to see and more – the Forbidden City, Great Wall, Old Beijing, the Summer Palace, the Bird’s Nest (Olympic Stadium), Xiùshuǐjiē (a famous indoor market known for carrying fake products), Pānjiāyuán (a lesser known antique market), and Peking University.

Our nights were equally as active, as we benefited from having friends studying in Beijing. In three nights, we went out with Kehoe’s friend from home, a fraternity brother from school, and another friend from Cornell. We ate well (mostly opting for American cuisine like burgers and pizza) and got a good taste of what Beijing’s nightlife has to offer. Yes, Beijing was indeed cold, but it gave me a friendly reminder of New York’s autumn chill to which I’ve grown so accustomed. And when I returned to Shanghai, I was that much more grateful for its much more tolerable weather.

My travel companions were my friends Justin and Kehoe. Here's a picture of us touring Beijing's hutongs, alley neighborhoods that thrived in the old days of Beijing.

On our first full day, we went to see the Forbidden City. It was alright, but as far as palaces go, once you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all. It probably would have been cool had I just arrived in China, but I’ve been in Asia for three months now. China has to step up its game at this point. Unless I start seeing some juggling pandas or monks on jet packs, I’m really not going to be that impressed.

Outside the Forbidden City.

Our hutong tour guide set us up with a personal driver (his son) to take us to see the Great Wall, Bird’s Nest (Olympic Stadium), and Summer Palace all in one day. We agreed to pay Rmb100 (about $15) for gas at the beginning and then Rmb500 (about $80) when everything was finished.

He drove us about two hours outside the city to see the Great Wall. He said he’d wait at the entrance for us and demanded that we spend no more than two hours on the Wall and return at precisely 12:55p, so as to make sure we’d have enough time for the rest of our sight-seeing.

At 12:58 pm, we arrived back at the entrance, expecting to find an anxiously awaiting driver. At first glance, he was nowhere to found.  We looked around for a little.

“Ah, there he is!” Kehoe shouted.

I looked over in the direction he was pointing and saw a group of old Chinese men gambling away in a heated game of cards.  Among the men was a skinny, younger-looking guy. Our driver. 

We approached him.

Shí fēn zhōng, shí fēn zhōng! [Ten minutes, ten minutes!] he said.

Hah, and I thought we were on a tight schedule.

Realizing we were now on his time, we idled for a little, bought some dried kiwi and mango, and watched a few minutes of animated Chinese poker.

Soon enough, we were back on the road, made a quick stop to see the Bird’s Nest, and then arrived at the Summer Palace.

Like before, we planned to spend two hours at the tourist site. This time, we agreed with our driver that at 5pm we’d reconvene. 5pm came around, and, once again, we couldn’t find our driver.

“Do you guys see anyone playing cards?” I asked.

Suddenly, from the distance, we saw our driver running towards us.

In Chinese, he said:

Do you have 100 yuan? I really need 100 yuan. I know you are supposed to pay 500 at the end, but just give 100 now and 400 later. I really need 100 yuan.

I handed him a 100 yuan bill.

I’ll be right back. I just need to go to the bathroom.

Playing cards were blatantly sticking out of his right hand.

We watched him sprint off into the distance. When he got to what I guessed was about halfway to his intended destination, undoubtedly a poker table, he had a change of heart and, all of a sudden, starting running full speed back in our direction.

Kuài, kuài, kuài! [Quick, quick, quick!]

Following him, we dashed towards the parking lot and hurriedly jumped into his shabby Volkswagen. Slamming on the pedal, he sped away from the scene, asking Justin, who was sitting in the front seat, to move his head forward to keep the driver’s face out of sight. When we reached a traffic light a good half-mile or so from the Summer Palace, the driver lowered his window. He tossed the cards out of the car.

“[sigh] Sank you, sank you,” he said, patting Justin on the shoulder.

I looked up at our grateful driver. So… did you win?

Here's me on the Great Wall in a banana suit. As the Chinese would say dúyīwú'èr (unique and unmatched). Well, at least I hope they'd say that.

The Great Wall and surrounding area was absolutely breathtaking. It really made me want to thank the Mongolians. If they weren't so damn annoying, the Chinese would never have gone to such an extreme to build such a large and beautiful structure for us all to enjoy.

Between Seoul and Beijing, I really have come to master the art of trip planning. To plan a good trip, well, you don’t want to do much planning at all. The way I see it is you go on a vacation to relax and have fun. Why spend hours tirelessly researching a place when you can just ask a few people where to go, get a general idea of where everything is located, and allow some room for spontaneity?

My realization about how little planning I had done for Beijing came with our visit to the Summer Palace. The only thing I know about the Summer Palace was its Chinese name (Yíhéyuán), which I had remembered from an old Chinese lesson about tourism. Other than that, I knew nothing. I just assumed the Summer Palace was some building, maybe with some nice chairs and flower pots.

We walked through the main entrance of the Summer Palace, took a few steps forward, and just stopped dead in our tracks.

“Holyyy $#!%, this is beautiful…”

Take-away: Don’t stress over planning trips. Know the essential places to go and ask past travelers about their trip highlights. If you know too much about every little tourist site, you’re bound to be disappointed, and your travel mates will probably be annoyed by your intensity. If you do very little planning then yes, you will feel extremely ignorant, but you will also experience an exhilarating sensation when you discover that the Summer Palace is not a building with some nice chairs and flower pots, but, in fact, a palace on a 60 meter high hill in a prepossessing imperial garden that expands 2.9 square kilometers, three quarters of which is water.

Peking University outdoor track.

Běijīng kǎoyā (Peking duck)

Pānjiāyuán, an outdoor antique market.

The Magical Market

There’s no place in Shanghai more beautiful, more magical than the South Bund Fabric Market. The Fabric Market is by no means immaculate or breathtaking, but it’s the sheer quantity of options that makes me giddy inside. It’s a three story building of seemingly endless jackets, pants, belts, coats, ties, shoes, dresses, scarves, shirts, hats, and cloths, from which you can walk away adorned in any garment of your imagination. And in a city where people seem to just assume all Westerners are trendy and fashionable, I’ve gotten the idea that I can just about get away with wearing anything.

I’m also obsessed with listening to the shopkeepers’ robotic English as foreigners walk by. Pants, suits, you want, you come looking now. Their faces are motionless as words spill from their mouths. Hello, I give you best price, anything you want.

I’ve been to the Fabric Market about six times now, making it my most frequented tourist destination. The Fabric Market is everything I love about China: vendors who would kiss your derrière to get you to buy from their shop, the thrill of intense and passionate bargaining*, and the too-good-to-be-true prices that make me think I’m spending Monopoly money.

So far, I’ve bought three custom-fit jackets, three ties, three pairs of sunglasses, a custom-fit suit, a hat, a belt, and two custom-fit shirts (my grand total is probably like $270), and I can’t be sure that my work is finished. Getting a good deal on good-looking clothing feels great, and one of the things I’m looking forward to most about my return home to the U.S. is being able to dress to impress a lot more.

The Fabric Market will always hold a special place in my heart. I’ve never been much of a fan of shopping for clothes, but I think I’ve left the Market every time with a huge smile on my face. There’s just something about walking in somewhere, and being able to get exactly what you want for an incredible price that just brings out the inner deal-seeking consumer in me. It’s almost as if every time I leave the Fabric Market, I feel like I beat the system, that someone else ended up with the short end of the stick, that I found some loophole. But this is China for you. And the only loopholes are the ones on my brand-new belt.

*China is a cash economy, and subsequently almost everything here is negotiable. Learning to bargain isn’t particularly difficult, but it does take some confidence to do it right. Here are my bargaining tips: 1. In your head, choose a reasonable price you’re willing to pay for the item; 2. Ask the vendor to name a price and immediately complain that it’s too expensive (I especially like “Huāngmiù!” [That’s absurd!]); 3. Name a price that’s well below what you plan on paying and then wait for the vendor to get upset and offer a lower but still unsatisfactory price; 4. Shout “Tài guì le!" [Too expensive!] and storm off, knowing that the vendor will call for you to come back by offering a price that you’re willing to pay; 5. Pretend to be hesitant at first just to further upset the vendor and then accept the now reasonable price.

Me, and my fabric market girl. She's sold me all my jackets.

Displaying my new wardrobe.

No Laughing Matter

As I become more and more accustomed to living in China, I find that a lot of the novelty of life in China is slowly wearing off. I’ve gotten used to seeing little children defecate on the streets, to shoving my way into an already over-crowded subway car, and to shouting fuwuyuan! [waiter!] at the top of my lungs (a total accepted practice at low-end restaurants - otherwise the server may easily forget about your food). Even the Shanghai Bellies, which are just too funny to get accustomed to, have vanished with the arrival of colder weather.

Because I was initially so unfamiliar with life here, I’ve been inclined to project my humor upon what I see as different or strange. But, beyond the little things that I find comical, there really are some aspects of living in China that I cannot accept, and I think rightfully so.

China does not have a democracy and, while its economy may only be a few years away from a free market, its authoritarian rule does make a world of difference. Such a great sense of hopelessness exists among the young people here because they know that their chances of success are slim. The wealth disparity here is disgustingly large, and the government, through connections with elite businessmen and much corruption, dominates the economy. Only the cream of the crop gets accepted into universities (note: the population of China is well over four times that of America so competition is that much more fierce), and students often need to attend graduate school to even get a good job.

My roommate teaches a class at a nearby university and once asked his students to raise their hand if they would want to move abroad to continue their studies. Every single hand went up. It’s true. Many young people want to move to other countries. They feel oppressed by the government and know that they can live better elsewhere. Well-to-do families often hire private English tutors for their children so that they will be able to enroll in universities in the U.S. or England. I think the extent to which some kids are pushed here is crazy. I can’t imagine needing to master a foreign language just to qualify for a college. It’s depressing that some Chinese people don’t want to live in their own country. It gives me that much more reason to take pride in being American.

My roommate loves to tell me about all the bad things about China. I think he recently had the realization that because of him, I don’t have that many good things to say about his country. The most unsettling story he’s told me is about an elderly woman who fell off her bicycle and onto the ground. No one came to help the woman, who was clearly in pain, until a few minutes later when a young man walked by and saw her. Instead of praising the man for helping her, the woman reported to authorities that the man had pushed her off the bicycle. A lawsuit was filed, and, in the end, the court declared the young man guilty, ruling that if the woman’s falling off her bicycle wasn’t his fault then he needn’t help her. Guo Jiang then added, “It’s hard to be a good man in China”.

There are stray cats that roam our campus. In fact, during my Chinese economics class yesterday, a cat literally walked into our classroom, made his rounds, and then walked out. This one here is my favorite.

Today is a very special holiday in China. It’s Guānggùnjié or Singles’ Day. Singles’ Day grew out of university culture and got its name from the four ones in the date 11/11. On this day, a lot of Chinese single people go out to dinner with their single friends to celebrate being single. Just as popular though is attending “blind date” parties in hopes of ending one’s single life. Today, to celebrate, I bought some Kraft Singles and played tennis with just one friend.

I still haven't been able to figure this one out. It's next to a little waiting room inside the gym that I've never seen anyone use.

Yesterday, my roommate and I went out to eat at a great Xi’an style restaurant. Afterwards, he took me to his family friends’ apartment to see what typical family life is like. While my involvement in our conversation was rather limited, my favorite part of the experience was seeing their daughter’s bedroom. Now don’t get any ideas. She is 15, and what I’m referring to is the contents of her room. Her room wasn’t much bigger than the standard college dorm room, and yet she had a huge piano up against her wall. I got one of those inner gleeful sensations you get when you see a stereotype realized. I asked her to play. She dismissed the idea at first but then sat down and pulled out some Mozart (Mòzhātè). Her fingers began to move gracefully across the keys. She was insanely good. I looked over at Guo Jiang and the daughter’s father to see if they were as impressed as I. They weren’t. The father’s face wore an expression more of approval than of pride. He stood with his hands placed firmly on his hips. When his daughter finished the piece, I was fairly certain he was going to angrily shout “Again!”

In all seriousness though, the father and daughter were very friendly, and I enjoyed the little visit. When we were leaving, our host eagerly tried to send us home with every possible gift he could find. He was so forceful that Guo Jiang ended up having to shout “Bùyòng bùyòng, tài kèqi le!”  [No need, no need, you’re too kind!]. Although I could have guessed such a display of generosity was coming, it’s just funny when the culture you know is turned on its head. In the States, the guest traditionally arrives with a gift for the host. And as for the host’s duties, just providing the comfort of one’s home and some refreshments is considered quite sufficient.

Lotte World, the indoor amusement park we went to in Seoul.

Part of being a successful laowai (foreigner) is knowing when to speak Chinese and when to deny all knowledge of the Chinese language. For instance, if you want to successfully bargain, you should definitely use Chinese to get the best possible price. If you want a cab driver to take you somewhere, you should probably speak Chinese to him or he’ll drop you off wherever he feels like. If some guy wants to make you pay to enter a skate park to simply watch your friend skateboard, you should act dumb and just sneak into the park. If you are on a plane and are told to turn off all electronic devices but are in the middle of listening to a really good song, you should pretend that you cannot comprehend anything coming out of the flight attendant’s mouth and keep your earbuds plugged in.

Definitely worth sneaking in to the skate park to get some action shots of Morrison.

Next weekend, out of a strong feeling of obligation, I’m heading to the country’s capital: Beijing. There, I’ll experience the Great Wall, the Forbidden City, and some Peking duck in what’s sure to be a jam-packed weekend. 

Here's a link to a video I took a while ago in Zhuhai when we were on our field study trip. It's of a homeless old man who truly moved me with his music. Enjoy.
A True Virtuoso

Seoul Searchin'

I felt a little stupid for choosing Seoul as my fall break destination, given that I came to Asia primarily to study Chinese. China has many cities that are ideal for tourism and language practice, but I ultimately gave in to the desire to explore, to look beyond China, to take advantage of being on the other side of the globe for the first time in my life. For me, exploring the city of Seoul not only means seeing my first fully developed Asian country, but also presents a great chance to relieve myself from the mental strain of speaking and studying Chinese everyday.  I’ve made a conscious effort to not learn any Korean while I’m here in order to give my brain some rest. I’ve survived so far with knowing just one word, hana, which means “one”.  It comes in handy when I only want one of something. For some reason, I don’t mind being the American tourist who can’t understand the people around him. I’ve come to truly appreciate the power of body language, and of Koreans knowing how to speak English.

I’m traveling with my two friends, Andrew and Kehoe. Here’s what we’ve done:

Gyeongbokgung, Korea's imperial palace.

·      Visited one of Seoul's many palaces

·      Took a cable car to the Seoul Nam San Tower

·      Went to the Demilitarized Zone

·      Shopped in the famous Myeongdong district

·      Ate at an awesome seafood market

·      Visited Lotte World, an indoor amusement park

·      Went to an art museum

Fresh sashimi from the seafood market. 

Stil left to do:

·      Seoul City bus tour

·      Ride bicycles in Cheonggyecheon, an urban park that runs through the city

·      Go back to the seafood market

Along the way we’ve also been sampling all the street food and convenience store snacks. So far, more successes than failures.

Although I’ve been to Hong Kong and Macau, South Korea, as I mentioned, is the first fully developed Asian country that I’ve ever been to. After being in China for so long, I don’t take for granted the soap in public bathrooms, the available drinking water at restaurants, and the overall cleanliness of the city (fun fact: if you say “Korean” in an Asian accent, it sounds like “clean”). While Shanghai will not likely resemble Seoul in the future (Shanghai has many more skyscrapers), it is cool to get a glimpse of what a developed China might be like in a few years. From observing Korean life, I’ve determined that Asians with blond hair and pet grooming stores are defining characteristics of a developed nation.

Even in Korea, there is no escaping the Chinese foreigner picture frenzy. When we were on the DMZ tour, we were attacked by a group of Chinese tourists who all wanted to take individual pictures with us.  If you ever start feeling lost in the crowd, you should really head over to Asia. I’m constantly being reminded how cool it is to be white and over 5’7’’.

We went on an awesome tour of the Demilitarized Zone (DMZ) that separates North and South Korea. The highlight was walking through one of the infiltration tunnels that North Korea had built in hopes of attacking the South.

The average day here has been 60°F with sunny skies, and yet I’d be hard pressed to find a Korean that isn’t wearing pants and at least two layers of clothing. I’ve noticed the same thing back in China. Weather that I find to be very comfortable is often considered quite cold by Chinese standards.

We asked our Chinese teacher about this phenomenon in class. Her response: “You all have white skin; we have yellow skin.” I was really shocked by this explanation and find it difficult to accept that tolerance for cold temperatures is a racial characteristic. In any event, I find it hilarious when I’m reminded of this racial difference. One time I walked into work in a short-sleeved Polo shirt on a beautiful, sunny day, and a co-worker asked me “Nǐ bù lěng ma?” [Aren’t you cold?]. In addition, my marketing professor once warned our class, “Be prepared; Shanghai gets very cold in the winter”. Hah, he doesn’t even know what cold is. I’d love to take him to Ithaca.

This is what happens when a country becomes too developed.

My first night in Seoul was spent at a club in a banana suit. There, I quickly discovered that most Koreans don't celebrate Halloween. That didn't mean that the banana was not a huge hit though. 

Doing our best to be culturally sensitive.

“7YH” and Other Unscholarly Analyses

 As it is only just to give credit where credit is due, I’d like to first acknowledge Mike Kehoe as the wise young man whose ideas were the inspiration for the following entry.

I’m not a party animal by any means, but I don’t usually think twice about going out and having fun once the weekend rolls around.  When I arrived in China, it didn’t take too long to realize that the college student culture is a little different here. In these past two months or so, we’ve only managed to get about three Chinese roommates to come out with us for a night.

Now, let’s soak this in. I’m in Shanghai, arguably the most exciting and entertaining city in all of Mainland China – bars, lounges, dance clubs, live music, restaurants, bowling, karaoke – you name it, you can find everything here. So why are Chinese college students so opposed to enjoying all that Shanghai nightlife has to offer? Do they not like to have fun? Do they look down upon drinking and partygoers?

My answer: the Chinese are unknowingly victims of what I call the Seven Year Hypothesis (7YH), a conjecture which states that the Chinese youth are seven years behind Westerners in terms of maturity. In believing in this hypothesis, one can come to make sense of this important cultural difference.

For instance, a friend might ask me, “Why doesn’t my 21-year-old roommate want to come out to a bar with us tonight?” upon which I can confidently respond, “He’s only 14, don’t be so hard on him”.

 My friend Marybeth’s roommate wears pajamas that even a 9-year-old American girl would think are way too childish. And what can she almost always be found doing when she’s in the dorm? Watching cartoons.

Kehoe’s roommate has watched a Justin Bieber concert tour video at least three times. His ring tone: a Justin Bieber song, of course.

My friend Justin’s roommate plays World of Warcraft, a computer game, all night long. My friend Andrew’s roommate takes “staying in” to a whole new level. He has a wireless mouse, so with his computer on his desk a good ten feet away, he lies down on his bed and rolls his mouse on his chest.

What’s more is you can often find young professionals or upper-level students still living with their parents who have strict curfews. In fact, Kehoe works with a 26-year-old girl who lives at home. Her curfew: 11pm! Take away seven years, and she’s now 19. Oooph, still pretty old. Ladies and gentlemen, we may have an outlier.

The nightlife that we American college students value is more a part of the Chinese business lifestyle than of the Chinese college student. Accordingly, I think many Chinese kids consider themselves too young and inexperienced to go out for drinks and the like. *

Summarizing thoughts: Chinese students like to watch television and play computer games instead of going out, and their lives are still largely controlled by their parents. This sounds a lot like my life… when I was 13.

7YH is perhaps most salient when looking at the dating scene in China. I wouldn’t be surprised to hear a Chinese girl my age tell me that she prefers to receive a note informing her that a guy likes her than hear from the guy in person. Sounds a lot like middle school, huh? I can’t imagine an American college student landing a date if he didn’t even have the nerve to approach a girl he liked.

In the end, the Seven Year Hypothesis helps to explain why many of my friends feel a sense of disconnect with their roommates. I think we were all expecting our roommates to just be Chinese versions of our friends back home in the States. That many of my friends are not very close with their roommates makes me feel lucky to have such a strong bond with Guo Jiang.  So why do I get along so well with my roommate, who’s 33? Well, why wouldn’t I? After all, he’s really just a conscientious 26-year-old.

* Drinking is truly a big part of business in China. I’ve heard tales of Chinese men getting drunk in order to accept shaky business deals. Moreover, inviting managers, co-workers, and clients to dinner and drinks, while possibly considered bribery in the U.S., is almost the norm in China. It seems to be just a mere extension of the Chinese propensity towards gift giving. My marketing professor has even said to us that many businesspeople in China are literally in physical pain from being forced to eat and drink so much. Truly a hilarious thought… until you call to mind all the other people here slaving away in factories for just enough money to make ends meet.

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Chinese pop culture is extremely corny, and I refuse to be convinced otherwise. Someone in China must have declared that smooth jazz can be played anywhere and will automatically make for a serene atmosphere. I kid you not – I’ve heard the same smooth jazz version of My Heart Will Go On (from Titanic) at four distinct locations in China. Moreover, most Chinese dramas revolve around some terribly cheesy storyline that involves a man and a woman who love each other but for some reason, whether it be professional pursuits or parental disapproval, are forced to be apart. Oh please, cry me a river.

A panda munching on some bamboo at the Shanghai Wildlife Zoo.

This past weekend, I went to Hangzhou, a city, not far from Shanghai, renowned for its beautiful natural scenery. One of my stops was at the Lingyin Temple, where I discovered majestic Buddha shrines and statues. Feeling so removed from the Chinese culture, I found it hilarious when I saw people holding incense and bowing down to bronze statues. However, seeing such prepossessing statues and structures that were built more than a thousand years ago made me realize how rich Chinese history really is. When comparing China’s history to that of the United States, which pretty much started in 1776 with the Declaration of Independence, the U.S. is an infant. As such, far fewer common legends and traditions have had time to make their way into the minds of the American people. All in all, I can now understand why people feel the urge to bow down to their beloved Buddhas. At this point, I’d probably just make a funny face if I were next to a George Washington sculpture. But give me a thousand years, and I might very well get down on my knees.

Marybeth and Kehoe, embracing Hangzhou's natural beauty.

My fall break is coming up, and I was all set to head to Bangkok until I heard news of the terrible flooding that has put Thailand in a state of turmoil. Consequently, I decided it would be best to choose another destination (Exhibit A: 20-year-old college students make a responsible decision). Kehoe and I asked my roommate to call the airline to cancel our flight. Later on that day, as he’s on the phone with the airline, I see him whip out a piece of paper from his bag. He takes the phone off his ear and asks, “Can I make up a story? If you have good excuse, you needn’t to pay for cancelling.” Laughing a little, I tell him, “Sure, go ahead.”

After some time, he was put on hold, so I asked him what he had told the airline worker on the other end.

He said he had told them that I had severely injured my head after a skateboarding accident and would be unable to go on the flight. The note that he pulled out of his bag was from his friend, a brain doctor, describing the sensation that one feels after this kind of injury. Yes, that’s right. My roommate did research to prepare for his lying to the airline company. I was in hysterics. Now let it be known that I consider my roommate a very respectable man. That fabricating a story of some skateboarding accident to escape a cancellation fee did not even remotely faze him was just all too much for me. It just goes to show that fibs and falsehoods are not so frowned upon in China. This cultural difference doesn’t surprise me. Fake brands and false advertising surround Chinese people left and right. It’s no wonder that deception is an accepted part of everyday life.

Oh and, if you’re wondering what happened, they ended up transferring Guo Jiang to another department, of which all the employees were on their lunch break. I just paid the cancellation fee.

With Bangkok an idea of the past, this weekend, I’ll now be heading to Seoul. Still not too shabby.

A Look at Language

古的猫宁!

Try to pronounce this phrase…

Gǔde māoníng

Still confused?...

Goo-duh Mao-ning

Have you caught on?

Right now, you might sound like a Chinese person trying to say “Good morning”. If so, great job, you’re exactly right.

At the Shanghai World Expo last year, the Chinese government handed out thick pamphlets filled with English phrases accompanied by Chinese characters to help with pronunciation. It's no wonder why so many people here have horrendous accents when speaking English.

A lot of people have said to me things like “Oh my god, you’re studying Chinese, that’s insane.” Well, I just want to clarify that there is a definite method to the madness that is learning Chinese. What I do is treat Chinese as a Romance language (one that uses the A-Z alphabet) and learn words in pinyin (phonetic writing with tones). At a much slower rate, I learn the characters for these words. For me, memorizing pictures is extremely unnatural, and the fastest way to learn Chinese is to simply stick with what I know.

 In viewing Chinese as a Romance language I notice that pinyin words only end with a, e, i, o, u, n, r, and g. Each character is a one syllable word (the longest possible is 6 letters like chuang or shuang). When you think about English and all the different combinations of letters, word endings, silent letters, and bizarre pronunciations (e.g. curtain, asthma, receipt), you can begin to understand why English may be just as hard to learn for a Chinese person as Chinese is for an English-speaking person.

Chinese has four tones: (1) the tone that you make when you sing “Do-re-mi…”, (2) the tone you make when asking a question (3) the low noise that comes out when you groan, and (4) the tone you make when you say “no!”. In pinyin, they look like this: mā, má, mǎ, mà. Tones, along with characters are definitely the most unnatural and most difficult part about Chinese, but I’m definitely starting to get accustomed to them. I would compare the difficulty of mastering tones to the difficulty of understanding where to place certain emphases in English. For instance, think about the words “mechanical” and “mechanism”. Notice how they’re pronounced differently? Think about how hard mastering this concept is for a non-native speaker.

For me, I find words like lǜse and jùzi very unnatural. Lǜ (which means green) sounds like “lyoo” (say “yoo” first and then add the “l” sound to it). If I slip up and say “loo”, I’ve now accidentally said the word for road. Similary, try understanding the difference between zhù (which sounds like “jew”) and jù ("jyoo"). While these kinds of differences seem so subtle to a native English speaker, they are simply a natural part of the Chinese language.

One thing that I struggle to understand is why Chinese people often wrongly interchange “l” and “r” when speaking English. They have both “l” and “r” in their frickin’ language. What I do know is that English words that get Chinese-ified often follow this switching of r and l  pattern. For instance, Walmart becomes 沃尔玛 (Wò’ěrmǎ) and Andy Roddick becomes 安迪 罗迪克 (Āndí Luódíkè).

My parents and brother came to visit me this week, and we went to the Shanghai Rolex Masters, where we watched Andy Roddick in his first round victory.

There are actually some Chinese words and phrases that use Roman letters rather than characters. For instance, take a look at the following sentence:

我们唱卡拉OK的时候， 我想让T洫最难看的朋友付钱但是最后我们还是决定AA.

When we went to sing karaoke, I wanted to make my friend with the really ugly t-shirt pay for us all, but, in the end, we decided to each pay for ourselves.

(You have to make sure to pronounce the letters with a Chinese accent though.)

My friends Andrew and Aisha singing a passionate duet. Karaoke in China is extremely popular and a ton of fun. Karaoke clubs offer private rooms for groups, and it's very common to stay for three or four hours.

Learning Chinese forces me to view the world in a much more logical manner. The way that Chinese words are formed is very practical (put different characters to make new meanings), so to learn and remember them I need to adopt a practical mentality. Take a look at the following examples:

Chinese	Literal Meaning	English
前后文	Front－back－writing	Context
开关	On-off	Power switch
桌球	Table－ball	Billiards
长颈鹿	Long－neck－deer	Giraffe

Although learning Chinese means studying a language comprised of strange character pictures and no English cognates (besides some brand names, celebrity names, and loanwords), the above chart demonstrates one of the reasons that I find Chinese fun to learn. Chinese, for the most part, makes sense. And while Chinese people may struggle to remember a word like yogurt, there’s no way I could ever forget sour-milk.