Schooled

Here’s a picture of the Han Yuan Language School where I’m taking my Mandarin lessons. I don’t want to brag, but I think I’m the favorite student – especially since all the other students are morose, chain-smoking Japanese businessmen.

I never thought I had any talent for learning languages. After 8 years of studying German in high school and college, I still couldn’t help Dieter and Ute get to the fucking Bibliothek. So the thought of trying to learn even basic Chinese was intimidating and scary and seemed like a pointless exercise. I am, however, contractually obligated to try.

I’ve had only 4 lessons and so far I’m enjoying it. I’ve learned to count, some basic vocabulary (days of week, etc.) and a few simple, helpful phrases like “Do you speak English?” “The chicken, please.” and “Which way to the secret military installations?” (Okay, the last one is a goof.) I’ve mastered the four tones and the teacher said my accent is “okay.”

It may not sound like much, but this is twice what I accomplished in my 8 wretched years of German classes.

The expats I know say it’s important at least to become “taxi fluent” – meaning you can give a cab driver directions, order in a restaurant and pronounce anything that’s written in pinyin.

Today I’m feeling ambitious though, with visions of total fluency – dazzling fellow Westerners with my linguistic mastery as I flawlessly speak Mandarin to my Chinese friends and say: “Aren’t foreigners stupid?” Everyone will applaud in amazement.

I’ll keep you posted on my progress.