Chinglish

One of the single greatest things about living in a foreign country is the language barrier. Yes, there are times when I wish that I could just explain to a cab driver the general vicinity of my destination, or ask a waiter to describe a dish, but seeing things like "a friend boiled," or "a Jew's ear" (what happened to the other one??) on a menu makes up for this entirely. Speaking little to no Chinese makes doing every day tasks an incredible adventure, and usually a hilarious story. There is now "the time I tried to order soup," "the time 10 waitresses surrounded my table, trying to figure out what I wanted," and "the time I tried to find the subway station, but instead was pointed to an actual Subway sandwich shop." Classics. Most of these stories are created when I do things alone, as luckily most of my friends here are conversational, if not fluent. For the first couple of days I was here, I followed them around wide-eyed as they did things like get me a metro card and put money on my phone. Now, I'm more independent and trying to play that role for my parents.

As most know, I was living in China for about three weeks before my parents were able to join me here. In those three weeks, I'd managed not only to become employed (easier than ordering off of a menu. Within five minutes of posting my resume, I had a phone call setting up an interview. The next day I had a job and the day after I began to tutor English) but also to pick up a few key "survival phrases." This has allowed me to have many one-sided conversations, and also was the inspiration for the game I like to play, called "Guess the Answer." Here's an example
Me: I want a vegetable dumpling. Without meat.
Them: *speaks for a good twenty seconds, gesturing to various dumplings*
Me: Yes.

Now, unless they had simply said "Ok," or "Don't have," I wouldn't have been able to understand them. So, instead I "Guess the Answer." In this case, I like to imagine that they said "Well, we do have non-meat dumplings, but they've been sitting in the sun all day, and we're about to throw them in the garbage can over there. I really wouldn't eat them if I were you, but if you say 'yes' right now, I'll be convinced to let you have them."

I love having one-sided conversations. I also love nodding wisely, pretending I understand what they are saying completely. I manage to fool old ladies, who just want an audience in an elevator, but I also think I've managed to fool my parents. The minute they saw me direct a cab ("Straight. Straight. Straight. Right turn.") they were convinced I had become a conversational speaker in less than 30 days. My dad, especially, thinks I'm a prodigy child. Every time I point to a menu and say "that" he yells "She's done it again! Amazing!" It's really flattering, but I think they might be overestimating my abilities a bit. The other day he asked me to open a bank account for him. Unless he doesn't want meat in his bank account, I don't think I can help him out.

Sometimes I can't help but to wish we all spoke the same language. Things might be a bit easier if I weren't mute and illiterate, but I sure as hell wouldn't have snagged a job in less than a day just because I spoke English, and there's no way that my bootleg version of "Black Swan," would have read "Black Sean." For now, I'm just not willing to give these things up.