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.

Though I still plan to post my wife Maggie’s impressions of Canada, that involves sorting photos and recollecting exactly what we did while away – time consuming endeavors. In the meantime, I thought I’d share some of the things I was somewhat surprised to find out people just don’t know about China.

1. By and large people in China wear the same clothes as the rest of the world: This one comes from a comment made to Maggie at her Welcome to Canada party. An attendee (notice the lack of naming names) point blank asked Maggie if she had bought the clothes she was wearing in Canada or in China. After a hesitant “In China, why?” from my wife, it was revealed that the asker simply assumed that Chinese wore distinctly different clothes. I’m curious to know if they had images of Shaolins, Manchus, or Maoists in mind.
2. Chinese food in North America is generally Cantonese or domestically fabricated: This one came up quite a lot as Maggie’s complaints of missing food from home grew louder and louder. I had to explain to friends and family that 90% of Chinese food found outside Chinatown is likely to be what is generally classified as “Cantonese”, as in from Guangdong and/or Hong Kong – both of which, though quite populous, are only a small part of the whole country. The reason for this prevalence of Cantonese food in Western nation is that traditionally the majority of Chinese immigrants came from this area.
3. China speaks Mandarin not Cantonese: Closely related to #2, this is another common misconception among Neverbeens, and for all the same reasons. While China has an endless number of local dialects, of which Cantonese is one, Mandarin is the de facto Chinese language, and incidentally the No. 1 spoken language in the world – though the guy giving you chop suey, chicken balls and fortune cookies is not likely speaking it.
4. Chinese don’t use ovens: This one came as the biggest surprise to me. I’m not sure why I assumed every Neverbeen knew that 99% of all Chinese homes are missing the most beautiful of baking boxes, but time after time I found myself listing to gasped “But, but how do they make bread, bake cookies, roast turkey!?!” Well folks, 1) they steam it. 2) they buy them in a box or at a Taiwanese bakery, and 3) Turkey? Strictly for export.
5. Communism is a farce: Most definitely the most overly-confused issue for Neverbeens as relating to China is the conflicting reports of capitalism running amok in what is the world’s largest communist state. Now to set the record straight, China is – in no way, shape or form – communist. State-run monopolies are at a minimum, there are no mass socialistic programs (Canada’s health care and welfare systems are more inclusive), and free enterprise is (somewhat annoyingly) rampant. It’s 100% capitalistic, but under a one-party, authoritarian system. The blame for this confusion should not be put on Neverbeens though, but rather on the shoulders of China’s government and their misnomer of a name – perhaps its time to update the name to better reflect the times in which we live – might I suggest the Cool Party of China, and you’ll not even have to change all your CPC embroidered ping pong polo shirts.

Well, there you have it – my list of things I noticed were the most common unknown or misunderstood bits of China for the Canucks I ran into. Got any to add?

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.

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.

I’m often praised and then quickly chastised by Chinese co-workers on my level of Chinese. When they first meet me they lather it on, but once they know I have a Chinese wife, their faces screw up and they try desperately to understand why I can’t speak better.

The truth is, nothing has hurt my Chinese more than having a Chinese girlfriend/wife. This isn’t a slight against her in anyway, as she does her best to push me in the right direction – correcting my tones, telling me for the thousandth time how to say random vocabulary, etc.

The problem is, nothing is a keener motivator than the day to day struggle of having to deal with the Chinese-speaking masses just outside my door – and with Maggie by my side, even simple conversations that I could navigate through, are handled by her.

Well, enough is enough. I’ve watched friend after friend make huge strides with Chinese while I sat dumbly by mumbling “ting bu dong”. I’ve made the decision that come the end of this term I’ll be turning from teacher to student and exchanging my ESL lesson plans for Chinese homework.

I’ve settled on a program at Soochow University (aka Suda) – don’t ask me why they still use the silly Wade-Giles spelling. The term runs from September to January and costs about 8,200 RMB (about $1,200 CAD). This breaks down as:

The price structure seems similar to various other Mandarin courses I’ve seen in other Chinese cities. Though not “cheap”, considering what a foreign student pays a term when they attended Canadian schools, it’s a steal. It’s four hours each morning (8~11:30), Monday to Friday. The program also offers some interesting electives – Chinese History, Chinese Calligraphy, Traditional Chinese Painting, Tai Chi and Chinese martial arts – in the afternoon, so I may enroll in a few of them as well.

I’m quite hyped about being a student again. It’s been on the back burner for quite a while now, as the wedding basically stole the show (and emptied my bank account) over the past year. Now with married life settled into, I can start focusing on the rather massive collection of other things populating my “todo” list.

I’ll be registering in the summer (as my Z visa expires, and I’ll need to transfer it to the appropriate student visa), and as such will be taking a placement test. I’m a bit nervous about this. My language abilities are all over the place – I know some rather complicated vocabulary reasonably well, but am completely lost with other, relatively simple, things. I can say more than I can read, read more than I can write, and write more than a beginner, but not by much.

As such, I’m going to try and hit the books before hand and get some sort of consistency in my Mandarin knowledge. With having a relatively passive interest in learning Chinese since I first arrived, I’ve a huge collection of links, books, software and such to help me – but am open to any suggestions that have worked for you readers.

I’m planning to put into practice Mark’s good advice (Learn a Language by Taking Advantage of ‘Hidden Moments’) and also some tips gleaned from a Pick The Brain article.

These ideas, coupled with my use of ChinesePod‘s free MP3s, Active Chinese‘s cool lessons and a couple of text books I’ll have to dust off, will hopefully cause me to, at the very least, not get put in the “NEEE HOW” newbies class.