ChinesePod.com

An affiliate program might not mean much to many of you, but I know a lot of folks that read this blog regularly also run their own China-related blogs and sites, and so I figured I’d help the folks over at ChinesePod get the word out about it.

For any that don’t know, ChinesePod.com is a rather hip podcast that delivers free daily Chinese lessons in a fun and contextual radio-show format. The podcast and and lesson discussion are free, and if you want to get more involved in their learning program, you just pay for one of the subscription services.

Here’s a little graphic to show the different plans (click to expand it):

I’ve been listening to ChinesePod off-and-on nearly since their inception almost three years ago, and can’t tout the service enough. So, as you may have guessed, I’ve registered as an affiliate – you’re damn right I have. How could I not want to encourage people to use a service that I think is great, that costs them nothing and helps me keep the lights on ’round here. That’s what Michael Scott calls win-win-win.

So, if you’re a blogrunner, site monkey or newsletter guru, check out their affiliate program. And, if you’re looking to learn Chinese, why not try ChinesePod for free.

Incidentally, if you’re at all interested in learning Spanish, they’ve also got SpanishPod, which I’ve not tried, but imagine offers the same high quality content of the Chinese version.

I’ve decided not to continue studying there for a whole number of reasons – none of which have to do with the quality of the teachers, whom I think are fantastic. However, if anyone should have any questions about my experience there, you’re welcome to leave a comment or contact me.

Soochow University Contact:

Admission Office
School of Overseas Education
Soochow University (East Campus)
50# Donghuan Road (215021)
Suzhou
Tel/Fax:0086-512-67166591
Email: Lxs@suda.edu.cn

Some info:

This is all taken from e-mail correspondence between myself and the program administrator in August 2007 – it is likely out of date, so only use it as a guideline.

In our school, every semester we have about 400 students, so on the registration day there is placement test just to see the student current Chinese level so that we can put the student to the relevent class.

…tuition fee 7500 yuan RMB, the application fee 250 yuan plus the registration fee 250 yuan RMB.

And thanks to Google Map, I can show you all where it is:

View Larger Map

However, I think it’s time to set the record straight. Comparing the number of different Chinese characters to the 26 letters of the English alphabet is a gross misunderstanding of written Chinese.

Though it is true that written Chinese has in around 6,000 “active” characters, to even be considered “literate” in China you need to be able to recognize 1,500 of those. However, we’re not comparing píngguǒ to píngguǒ here.

An alphabet is defined as being the root components of a written language (alright, I might be pulling that out of my ass). However, Chinese characters, though often compounded to create words, are not in and of themselves the root components of the Chinese written language.

Enter radicals. If you ever half-ass studied Chinese, this was probably the bit you skimmed at the end of the unit.

Radicals, whose moniker is WAY cooler than “alphabet” I must say, are elementary strokes and/or characters that are put together to create characters, and also act as a handy way to classify characters in Chinese dictionaries.

And radicals, unlike their more complicated and numerous offspring, only number 214. Still no 26, I admit, but a lot more manageable.

For anyone that’s interested, they are:

一丨丶丿乙亅二亠人儿入八冂冖冫几凵刀力勹匕匚匸十卜卩厂厶又口囗土士夊夊夕大女子宀寸小
尢尸屮山巛工己巾乡广廴廾弋弓彐彡彳心戈戶手支攴文斗斤方无日曰月木欠止歹殳毋比毛氏
气水火爪父爻爿片牙犬玄玉瓜瓦甘生用田疋疒癶白皮目矛矢石示禸禾穴立竹米糸缶网羊羽老而
耒耳聿肉臣自至臼舌舛舟艮色艸虍虫血行衣襾見角言谷豆豕豸貝赤走足身車辛辰辵邑酉釆里金長
門阜隶隹雨靑非面革韦韭音頁凬飛食首香馬骨高髟鬥鬯鬲鬼魚鳥鹵鹿麦麻黃黍黑黹黽鼎鼓鼠鼻齊

Now, of course, knowing all these is not going to make you any more literate in Chinese than knowing the alphabet does in English. However, by breaking down characters and getting comfortable with the common parts between them, you gain both a better understanding of how the language works and how to construct it.

You’ll also be able to use that funky index of sticks and dots that separates the English half of your dictionary from the Chinese half – allowing you to look up characters you have no idea how to say.

For more information, check out the China Knowledge Web site’s page on it.

First, the title of this post is a bit of a misnomer, as overall I really like studying Chinese, think my teachers are great, and I really like SuDa’s environment. However…

Having lived in China now for a few years, I have a rather messy Chinese “level” in that my speaking and listing are pretty good, but my reading and writing are a bit crap (“bit” being an understatement). As it were, I was placed in the second level class (which I’ve recently been told may in fact be what used to be Level 2 and Level 3 merged).

At this level each chapter in our texts consist of about 30-35 new words or phrases, which can easily add up to 50-60 individual characters – all of which I’ve never seen before. Now multiply this by three classes and you’ve got about 100-120 characters (there’s some overlap) per week to stuff into your head.

Generally speaking, I find it hard to remember any character I don’t write (while actively paying attention – as opposed to just mindlessly repeating) at least 20-30 times. Taking the lower of those two numbers (100 new characters * 20 times), that’s 2,000 characters of writing.

The Kickers

You may be sitting there thinking that’s not all that much, or you may have survived this carpal-tunnel-to-be and are laughing at me, however the real problem comes when you factor in that despite studying a chapter a week, you don’t get seven days to commit this iconic vocab to memory.

Nope, after reviewing the pronunciation of the vocabulary on day one, the rest of the week it is expected they’re in your mushy mass already (day two generally being quiz day).

The reason for this brings me to my final point, and the point that is really at the core of why I would even suggest studying Chinese at university as being a bad idea. If you are, like me, of the non-Asian persuasion, you’re going to have the cards stacked against you learning in a Chinese university for the simple reason that you’re going to be in a class where the majority of students are East Asian (Korean and/or Japanese).

This difference quickly becomes apparent, as both the Koreans and Japanese have solid foundations in Chinese characters, or Hanzi (known in Japan as Kanji and in Korea as Hanja).

The pronunciations are, of course, different, making that first pronunciation run-through uber-valuable to the E. Asian folks in the room. And as the E. Asians make up the bulk of the class, the teacher has little chance to spend the time needed for us Westerners to get the writing/reading down.

Exchange Students Be Warned

I’ve befriended a couple exchange students who study Chinese back in the US, and are doing a semester in China as a credited course. The differences between Level 2 Chinese in an American university and a Chinese one is drastic, and unlike myself, who could care less exams are passed or not as long as something is learned, these students’ marks count towards their degree back home – and, in one case at least, towards their scholarship.

The fact that these students were just plugged into “the next level” says a lot for the dimwittedness of the administrations involved. They are essentially saying that studying a year of Chinese a couple times a week in a non-Chinese environment in the US is equal to a year of studying Chinese everyday surrounded by things Chinese. Talk about stupid and unbalanced.

The Result

I’m now faced with a difficult decision on whether or not to stay in university next term, or to explore some of the private language schools in town, where I’m more likely to be classed with other Westerners, and in turn be able to focus on the areas that are hardest for me.

The benefits I see of switching to a private school are, A) as mentioned, being paired with other folks that have the same lack of foundations in writing and reading Chinese, and B) having the more complicated grammar points explained to me in English, as opposed to having to double my needed vocabulary just so I understand the teacher’s instructions.

However, I haven’t ruled out the university yet. It’s hard, sometimes impossibly hard, and some days I just sit and wonder why the hell I’m bothering when so much of what is being taught is just slipping by me. Despite this, it still puts me in the seat. It forces me to study hard or feel the fool in class. And it guarantees that 3-5 hours a day I’ll be studying, writing, reading, speaking and thinking Chinese. That, more than anything else is extremely valuable and I fear leaving uni I might lose that.

Private classes, and particularly tutors or self-study, are so incredibly easy to skip out on. Chinese university, whether because I so quickly fall behind, or because I have some ingrained fear of truancy, forces me to attend and has caused me to learn more Chinese in a month and a half than I have in near the entire three years I’ve been in China.

ChinesePod, Google’s IME, Adsotrans and Google Translator, Wenlin and a bunch of great freeware and Firefox plugins – just to name a few.

However, about two months ago I was casually browsing the local diànzǐ chéng and I stumbled on a little USB input device that allows you to write Chinese as an input method for your computer. I finally pulled it out of the box and played with it the other day.

First, for those that haven’t attempted to input Chinese on their computers, there are several ways to do so. The most common method is to use a pinyin-based IME (of which I prefer Google’s). With an IME you simply activate it, type in the pinyin, choose the characters and it outputs the hànzì.

This works well for us laowai, but is a bit slow for Chinese typists. For them a similar method is used, but instead of inputing the pinyin and selecting the characters, they often use rather ingenious software that attributes strokes to the keys of a standard keyboard. By inputting the strokes of the desired character you are able to much more efficiently output Chinese (100+ characters a minute – faster than you can say it!) – that is if you can remember what the goddamn stroke order is.

And now, for a mere 35 RMB, I have a third way. The little USB-powered tablet is about 6.5″ x 3″ with a small writing area where you use an included plastic stylus to write the strokes of Chinese characters. The included software then interprets this and outputs the proper character.

In my testing of it I was all over the dictionary with what characters it identified as what I wrote. However, when the steadier hand of Maggie gave it a go, it was bang on 100% of the time so long as she wrote the characters properly (Chinese tend to revere “messy” handwriting as “art” more than we do in the West).

It’s not fast. Or at least Maggie didn’t feel it would save her any time in ordering stuff on Taobao. However, for a student of Chinese, such as myself, it’s awesome. It is pretty unforgiving when it comes to stroke order and placement, forcing you to practice and remember how to write things properly.

Now PC tablets are nothing new, and if you’re not in China, you’ll likely be stuck buying one of the more expensive versions designed more for graphic applications than handwriting practice. However, if you’re in China and looking to improve your Chinese writing, with a $5 price tag, this is a great little tool.

Additional Resources:

• Lost Laowai’s Mandarin software/freeware/Firefox plugin links
• What is an IME and how do I use it?
• Chinese software

A couple examples:

越 … 越 …

越(来)越(好) | yuè lái yuè hǎo | better and better (lit. more come more good)
越(有钱)越(好) | yuè yǒu qián yuè hǎo | the more money the better (lit. more have money, more good)

又 … 又 …

又(闷)又(热) | yòu mēn yòu rè | stuffy and hot
又(懒)又(馋) | yòu lǎn yòu chán | lazy and gluttonous

But my all-time favourite of the bunch is the “… to death” structure.

… 死了

累死了 | lèi sǐ le | extremely tired (lit. tired to death)
饿死了 | è sǐ le | starving (lit. hungry to death)
撑死了 | chēng sǐ le | stuffed (lit. full to death)
吓死了 | xià sǐ le | scared to death

Well, all of that is a little lesson lead up to the newest modification of this Chinese phrase to enter my vocabulary:
丢死人了 | diū sǐ rén le | embarrassed to death

It was the end of class Thursday and as the other students were filing out to go find lunch I noticed I had a message from the Mrs. As wives (or husbands for that matter) are prone to do, she sent me a short list of things to pick up on my way home. These lists can contain all sorts of items… milk, bread, duck hearts … just your typical shopping list.

However, my wife, knowing I’m trying hard to use Chinese as much as possible, sometimes includes items in Hanzi, or if she thinks I might not know the characters, in pinyin. The last item on the list was one that even in pinyin I couldn’t recognize. As I was in a Chinese class with a rather kindly Chinese teacher just a few feet away, I figured I’d solve the mystery and ask her.

And so it was I found myself asking my teacher what “bi yun tao” is. She screwed up her face and said she didn’t know, while quickly leaving the class. With a couple classmates, I pondered over its possible meaning, but couldn’t come up with it. We got as far as “tao” possibly meaning ‘peach’.

Bìyùntào, as those brighter than me are sure to know, means condoms.

丢死人了

Arriving at the university with ten minutes to spare, I realized I should have given myself more time. The yard outside the foreign language department was a mess of 外国人 all politely pushing to see the classroom placement list.

Things were organized in typical Chinese fashion. A sort of chaotic mess that leaves you feeling like you should know where things are, but just can’t seem to wrap your head around it. Eventually I found my name – in Chinese – on a list posts on a random wall away from the posting board.

Fully expecting to walk into class today and ace it – if you remember, I was told I could either go into Level 1 Chinese (as that’s where my reading/writing is at), or I could tough it out and try out Level 2, allegedly where my speaking/listening is. I took the easy road.

For whatever reason, administration had different plans and wrote a nice big “2″ beside my name. Not having the energy to try and navigate the clusterfeck of red-tape that it might be to get things changed, I bit the bullet and bought my books.

Now 20-25 minutes late for my 汉语 class, I walked in on a scene familiar to anyone that’s taught ESL – the “getting to know you” class. Man, this is my first-day standby whenever I need to start a new class. It’s a great time killer, takes absolutely nothing to prepare, and the students are generally comfortable with it – good to see that crosses languages.

Taking up the last available seat in the classroom beside a self-proclaimed Korean Tai Tai and a rather nice American girl, I went to work trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Basically we were instructed that we needed to present the class with five sentences about ourselves using “是“.

I was initially nervous that I’d be far behind this group of students, most of whom were indicating that they had studied formally for at least a year previous. As it turned out everyone was equally nervous, and rusty, so we all had a good laugh.

After an hour and a half of this, we took a break and then reconvened for our second class – 口语. This proved a much more difficult class. The teacher, who can’t be more than a year or two out of university herself, is a doll, but seemed to crave our blank looks of utter confusion.

I made it through though, and aside from having to try and make sense of a two page dialog that I only know every 5th word of, I think I’m doing alright. It’s comforting to see that despite me being a bit over my head in the Level 2 class, I’m not alone.

So yeah, with nothing but positive things to say about my first day, you might be wondering about that “sick and tired” bit. Mid-way through the second class I started yawning uncontrollably, but assumed it was just not having had a great night’s sleep.

Getting home, I was doing everything to keep my eyes open. I couldn’t figure out why I was so tired. Then, while eating lunch and watching some South Park with Maggie, I turned to her and asked, “why is it freezing in here?” Looking at me with that screwy face only a wife can give a husband, I knew I’d caught a bug.

It’s now 8pm and I’ve been sleeping all day. I feel horrible, but slightly better than when I first started to crash. I’ve had this feeling before, and think it’s likely stomach flu/food poisoning. Fun.

Will see what the morning brings, but it’s somewhat disheartening that I might already be playing hooky and it’s only the second day.

The whole process was pretty straight forward, and I have to admit that I’ve little clue as to what is actually going on (mantra – follow the Korean kid that looks like they know where they’re going – it will either lead to a mandarin class or some great kimchi, either way, I win).

Registration

I technically registered about three weeks ago, so as I could get my visa renewed. Registration breaks into four expenses. The first, tuition, is 7,500 RMB. There are then three other expenses that have been priced with what can only be an inside joke among the faculty – Registration Fee: 250 RMB, Application Fee: 250 RMB and Books/Materials: 250 RMB.

Placement

The main reason I had to head to the campus yesterday was for my placement test, which in turn would tell me what books to buy. Unfortunately, it did little help clarify which class my ass is going to be sitting in, nor which books to buy.

The problem, as I knew going in, is that my speaking and listening is somewhat better than my reading and writing. After taking a written test and then having a chat with a teacher (speaking/listening test – very devious), it was determined that I could be in Class 2 for speaking/listening and Class 1 for reading/writing.

Sadly, this doesn’t fly. So, I have to choose between (as the instructor put it) “being tired (lvl 2) or being lonely (lvl 1).”

I had considered putting myself in the Lvl 2 class and just pushing myself really hard to catch up, but good intentions aside, who are we kidding? So, it looks like I’m set to be the Teacher’s Pet in Class 1.

There’s going to be a lot I already know, but at the same time, it will give me the opportunity to fill in the massive gaps in my grammar, pronunciation and vocabulary. It will also allow me to ease into this “Back To School” thing a bit more comfortably.

About five years ago my buddies and I started up a weekly Texas Hold’em game, and this taught me the “bluff”. Now here was a lie I could get into. It was limited in scope, non-committal, and expected. Sadly (ok, not too sadly) backpacking Europe and S.E. Asia got in the way of honing my skills to a Johnny Chan level.

However, over the course of time I’ve been “in country” here in China, I’ve subtly whet this skill without even knowing it. My bluff? That I speak Chinese.

You see, rarely a few days go by when I don’t find myself in a situation where I walk by a group of (almost always male) 20somethings that mumble “safsefaeadfaelǎowàiawkfjal awfd ahwdawh awdawhadwwǒcàoasdw wfaw”. This is usually followed by the Laowai-hair-raising “Hellooooo!”

And that’s where they make their face-losing mistake. You see, as pitiful as my Chinese is, it’s better than their English. In no small part because I live in China, and am married to a Chinese woman, while they most likely are not spending six months a year in Aspen and dating some 外国女人.

So, time to bluff. As soon as they start referencing me (always in the “he can’t understand us, or this shit we’re talking about him” way) I ready myself for the coming “Helloooo”. When it arrives, I pounce with an overly sincere and surprised: “你会说英语吗!?!”

This simple sentence is the cornerstone of solid psychological street fighting in China.

In one easy to remember (and more importantly, easily understood) sentence of Chinese, I castrate my opponent by not just letting it be known bluffing that I understood every word they just said about me, but I also force them into admitting that their bogus English greeting was, in fact, the extent of their extra-lingual skills. And the cherry on top, it’s done while demonstrating (or rather, bluffing) that I can speak Chinese.

Now sure, if I was certain of what was being said about me, I’d likely rip ‘em a new one (I’ve now got the vocab). But when I’m not 100%, this is a simple little method of keeping some chalk on the Laowai side of the scoreboard.

Thanks to some strict CanCon laws in my homeland, there is also no shortage of nostalgia for Canadian bands that brought me through my angst. Early albums by Hayden, Holly McNarland, Finger Eleven (then Rainbow Buttmonkeys), Our Lady Peace and Moist all have some amount of responsibility for my frequent use of the phrase: “Huh, what’d you say?”

In my time as assistant editor for Canadian Musician magazine, I was fortunate enough to meet a number of these folks, and found out that (with a couple exceptions), they were pretty rad people.

That life and that music seems just a million miles away now. Both in time and distance. So, it was a bit weird yesterday when I was sitting in a taxi and heard a song by Moist’s since-gone-solo (with all the same band members?) frontman, David Usher, on the radio … in Chinese.

The song, Black Black Heart, was a hit a few years ago in Canada, and it cropped up once before while I was in Bangkok Chatuchak’s Market back in 2004. This made sense though, as Usher is part Thai, and a following there seemed reasonable. However, a Chinese cover?

After a bit of Baidu’ing and Tudou’ing (ah, new age verbs) I learned that the Chinese version is called 分开旅行, and is performed by Stanley Huang and Rene Liu, whom some may know from the movie A World Without Thieves.

Turns out that basically just the melody and phrase “black black heart” made the cut – the words are completely different, and not just because they’re in Chinese. Whereas Usher is a somewhat gifted lyricist, the cover is not much more than the crappity crap crap pop that fills the Chinese airwaves and pirate CD shops here.

My hopes were dashed. But lets compare anyway:

Black Black Heart – David Usher

Something ugly this way comes
Through my fingers sliding inside
All these blessings all these burns
I’m godless underneath your cover
Search for pleasure search for pain
In this world now I am undying
I unfurl my flag my nation helpless

Black black heart why would you offer more
Why would you make it easier on me to satisfy
I’m on fire I’m rotting to the core
I’m eating all your kings and queens
All your sex and your diamonds

As I begin to lose my grip
On these realities your sending
Taste your mind and taste your sex
I’m naked underneath your cover
Covers lie and we will bend and borrow
With the coming sign
The tide will take the sea will rise and time will rape

Black black heart why would you offer more
Why would you make it easier on me to satisfy
I’m on fire I’m rotting to the core
I’m eating all your kings and queens
All your sex and your diamonds

Black black heart why would you offer more
Why would you make it easier on me to satisfy
I’m on fire I’m rotting to the core
I’m eating all your kings and queens
All your sex and your diamonds
All your sex and your diamonds
All your sex and your diamonds
All your sex and your diamonds
All your sex and your diamonds

And the Chinese version (with help from Adsotrans):

And for anyone that wants to see what the Backdorm Boys have done with it – check it out on Tudou.

It may not have been my long awaited answer to “Where’s the good Chinese music?”, but it did get me wrapped up in exploring YouTube for videos from back in the day, when we all had longer hair and wore more plaid.