Hot pot and language learning

Jacob Redding — Fri, 23 Nov 2007 17:19:38 +0000

You often learn languages in the most common of places. This evening Diana and I went out to our local hotpot restaurant (火锅饭店). The meal started off as normal except that I can now fully understand when the waiter/waitress (who, I'm pretty sure, are also the owners) ask if we want a spicy sauce or not (I get the spicy). That in itself is pretty cool but today I was also able to ask what another customer ordered. It looked good and I wanted some.

What made the evening even better, though, was towards the end of our meal when two older men sat down next to us. Their look was stereotypical Chinese businessman (rugged skin, dark suit, cigarette) and their accent was noticeably Beijing. Beijing accents are riddled with the sound of Rs and everything seems to be muddled together, that is until you've listened to it for a while. I could only understand about 5% or less of what they were saying but it was enough for me to (a) hear the "correct" pronunciation of certain words that I did know and (b) to learn new words based on context (of course I could be wrong about those new words).

For me having those two gentleman sit next to me what like a language learning treat and I eavesdropped as long as I could. Maybe someday I'll actually be able to talk with them and ask about the crazy business schemes they have.

The other item that made the dining experience truly "Chinese" was the fact that we were able to catch a glance of the "chef"*/dishwasher. He was passing dishes and washing dishes with a cigarette hanging from his lip.

China is not a smoke-free restaurant country. Quite the contrary.

*: At hot pot everything is given to you raw. You cook it yourself in a pot of spiced/flavored boiling water. Thus the chef doesn't do much else other than cut up raw vegetables and meats.

Frustration, Sadness, Depression and Moving On

Jacob Redding — Sun, 18 Nov 2007 07:35:27 +0000

It was bound to happen. All of the books, magazines, websites and blogs I've have read said it would happen. I just didn't think it would come this early. I really didn't.

Four days is about how long it took to boil to the surface.

On the first day I became frustrated with my progress. It was only a little frustration. I've been studying this language for quite some time and I can read basic sentences and recognize a few hundred characters. I, however, can't understand a person when they speak nor can I speak even if I KNOW what to say. My brain is just not working fast enough. By the time they finish their tenth word I've only figured out their first. They wait for me to respond but my brain is only through a 1/4 of what was spoken.

In short I'm a 486 processor without dx and they are all quad cores!

The second day my brain decided to mix in a little sadness with the frustration. I'm sure it was just trying to get a wonderfully exciting flavor but the effects were disastrous for me. I'm essentially mute in this country because I *want* to speak soo badly in THEIR language. I understand that a lot of people can speak English and I'm not exactly mute but I'm mute by my standards. So the sadness kicked in.

Day 3. The ratio of sadness to frustration flipped to the majority and started me down the path of depression. To be honest this wasn't my first bout with mild depression on this trip. I left a lot behind n the U.S. I'm a geek, its web 2.0 fever and I left that behind. Its depressing to think of what "could have been" sometimes. The people, the projects, the opportunity but especially the people. The people I've left behind. Those people are awesome. I miss them all (you know who you are).

What was I thinking?
Was I thinking?

Fourth day. Deep depression. Why did I leave? I can't learn this language. What am I doing here in a tiny studio apartment in the middle of Beijing? Traveling, learning. pwwftt whatever. I could be "living it up" in the U.S with some really great friends and those "people".

By the afternoon my depression turned into anger which quickly plummeted into rage. The questions poured, actually they gushed out of me.

What am I doing here?
Why am I learning this language?
Why didn't I put this much effort into Spanish?
If I put this much into Spanish I'd definitely be fluent.
Why don't I go home, get a "real" job, buy a house and settle down?
Why don't I move to France?
I can fit in, in France and they have great cheese.
Spain. After a few months I can fit in, sorta, and they have great meats.
England, Music.
Italy. Wine, pasta
Germany. Beer
Copenhagen. Biking
back to New York, they have everything.
What...am...I...Doing? I could go anywhere.. why here?

over and over again I asked myself the question. I was downright angry with myself and the entire situation. This was stupid

Then my angry turned straight into deep hardcore depression. I was sad, really sad. I'm 8,000 miles away from my family, friends and everything that I know. On top of that I'm months, well really years away from a good discussion on the world, people, current events, technology and that p word that I dare not say. I love these things and I'm so far away from them that they aren't even a blip on my radar. But they could be. I could be back in the U.S hanging out with friends around a table of good dark beer talking about a number of topics including the upcoming '08 p word.

On top of that I was alone that day. Diana was out shopping. Almost naturally my anger infused depression turned its ugly head onto the only subject it could have; her. The decision to come here and to learn the language was mine and mine alone. I've always wanted to learn a second language and in the past those languages have been Spanish, French, Japanese. After meeting Diana I decided that Mandarin Chinese would be a fine language to learn and I started down the path on my own free will and desire.

Rationality, however, has no place in the depressed mind. She got the brunt of everything pushed against her. My mind projected all of the negatives onto her and all of the positives away from her. When she came home...well it really hit the fan.

I didn't want it to be that way. I didn't plan for it to happen but it happened.

Fortunately Diana is a pro. She sat me down, talked with me, let me vent my anger and frustration and pulled me out of my depressive state. Then she talked about how to get over it. How to help me learn to speak and to listen to people. How to train my ears so that I can hear the tones and organize the sentences. The most important thing, however, is that we talked.

I'm not leaving. I'm not giving up and despite what my thoughts were those four days I never really wanted to give up. It just seemed the easy route and the "logical" solution.

I, however, want to communicate with someone in their native tongue. I want to hear those expressions and thoughts that just can't be communicated in a second language. I want to hear what they are thinking. I've always wanted this. It has always been a lifelong goal of mine. I will achieve this goal.

Now its been a few days. On Friday we went out to the "Global Village" private school and enrolled. We putting structure into my/our studies and it really helped. To date all of the studies in this language has been personal from books, cds, mp3s, online studies, friends, etc. Its time to put some real teachers into the mix. On Monday we begin full-time studies.

I'm back in school and loving it. This is where I belong. We're not going anywhere (sorry Mom and Dad)