I Don't Speak the Language

I don't speak Mandarin.  I can pick out the word for "China" in print, but reading/writing Chinese is a whole different ballgame from speaking and listening.  I'm focusing solely on speaking and listening right now, and it is tough.

The last time I attempted to learn any Mandarin was before my last trip to China and it was a disaster.  I learned "Hello," "goodbye," "thank you," and the one phrase that served me best during my time in Fuxin, "excuse me" (which serves as "sorry" as well).  After that, though, I just couldn't.  I had a block.  I comforted myself with the knowledge that I was only going to be there for three months and that I didn't really need it.

I hated myself for that attitude.  I hate ugly Americans, and there I was, one of them.  Fortunately I was in China, not France or somewhere where that attitude is (rightly) scorned.  Chinese people love to practice their English and are, I've found, delighted to hear me butcher the few Mandarin words I think I know.  They think it's cute, like when a puppy watches TV.  There's an odd mix of awe and pity in every interaction with a Chinese person.  They may want you to take off your glasses so they can see your blue eyes, but everyone in the conversation knows you're incredibly dumb for your unwillingness or inability to learn the damn language.  They're just too polite to bring it up.

So a friend forwarded me a shit ton of Chinese lessons, which I really should be doing right now instead of writing about studying the language, but I'm so excited I could cry (unlike last time, when my tears were born of frustration).  I'm a language fiend; I've studied, in various depths, French, Spanish, and Russian.  I've taken the grammar classes; I've drawn more conjugation tables than I can count.  The people in these lessons talk about the particles that create questions, how "Nĭ hăo ma?" doesn't literally mean "How are you?" but rather "You good [question particle]."  These are things I understand.  Apparently I can't learn Mandarin from stern-faced women barking "How are you?" at me (I wish I remembered what program I tried to use last time; it was terrifying), but I can figure it out if I can put the pieces together.

Tones are still sons of bitches, but I'm trying hard.  I can hear the differences, but I have difficulty reproducing them.  That part is difficult because I've always been a decent mimic; that's probably why languages have been relatively easy for me to learn, up until now.  I spoke Russian with a perfect Moscow accent, French with a Strasbourg accent.  I spoke Spanish like a high-school kid, and I speak Mandarin like a well-meaning but ill-equipped American, which is exactly what I am.  And for now, I'm OK with that.  If this is still where I am six months in, I'll be frustrated and cursing, which is my natural state, and we can all rest knowing that the earth is spinning on its axis.