Storms, viruses, and Taiwanese language

I've been back a few weeks now, and the weather is finally starting to get cooler. That means a bunch of low-pressure cold fronts (read: wind and rain) which, while giving a brief respite to the sweltering heat of the sun, also means that, well, it's getting cooler.

I moved out of Mr. Zhang's apartment and am now occupying a friend's house while he is out of the country. My friend, JR, also lent me his bicycle, and I've started to bike to school and back, which gives me some exercise. This has caused me to get sunburns (and then tans) on my arms and neck (a real farmer's tan), so on Monday I started applying suncream in those areas, as well as my face, before going to school.

As luck would have it, when I got outside there was no sun, only clouds, and to add insult to injury raindrops started coming down. After running back inside to get my rainjacket (for the bike) and umbrella (for walking around), I got on my bike and started pedaling on the side of the street.

I tried to hurry, but still be cautious of the cars and rain. When I got to the bridge I was especially careful, and biked on the sidewalk instead of the road. Still when I got on the other side of the bridge, I went back among the cars and endless scooters which zipped passed me.

When I got to school class had already started. My new class (the new semester started in September) consists of three Koreans, three Japanese, one other American, and one Indonesian. Anyway the teacher was warning us about H1N1, and if we had a fever we should immediately go to a doctor and have it checked out.

I don't know if it was because I was in such a rush to get to school, or if the teacher's words had some effect on me, but it was precisely at this moment that I started to feel queasy. I had difficulty concentrating for the rest of the class and wondered whether I should leave for fear of spreading whatever it was I had (God forbid H1N1).

Later, I went to the school medical center where my temperature and symptoms were checked. Apparently I had a flu, but it wasn't THE flu. Phew.

After I rushed to go to a Taiwanese language class. The auditorium, which held about 400 people, was almost full when I got there, but I spotted a seat next to two Japanese friends, Yusuke and Yoshi. Yoshi is half-Taiwanese, which was great cuz he would correct me on my pronunciation.

A little side note, if you think Chinese sounds hard, you should wrap your head around Taiwanese, a dialect which originates from the Fujianese province which faces Taiwan in mainland China. The Taiwanese dialect has eight tones (compared to Mandarin's four). Unlike Mandarin, those tones can change depending on where the word is in the sentence. Crazy!

In most of these courses, which are mandatory (more on that later), they don't bother too much about the details of the language, and instead just focus on learning everyday phrases (for example to say hello, instead of Ni Hao, you say Li Ho). To my ear it sounds a little like Vietnamese, though I haven't actually asked a Vietnamese person what they think it sounds like.

About the mandatory classes, it's part of the governments scheme to make students go to school more. For a person on a student visa, ten hours of class a week used to be sufficient, but then they said that wasn't enough, so they made it fifteen hours.

Since our school's regular course only has ten hours of class a week, they gave us cards which we have to stamp, and we could choose to go to the library, or watch a video, or go to one of these large language classes (like the Taiwanese language class described earlier).

But when I went to the library in early September, they told me part of my extra hours had to be done by taking the large language classes. I went to Jenny, the English-speaking girl who works at the MTC to ask her the reason behind the new rule.

"Because everyone was filling out their hours by going to the library, and a lot of people don't really study there, so..."

Which led me to another question: "But why do they have the fifteen-hour rule in the first place?"

"They thought student's weren't studying enough, and working illegally and stuff," she said, smiling.

Jenny continued: "Our school is the only school which has kept the two-hour a day class system, which is cheaper for students. So to compensate we have to create other ways to study."

I'm happy that my school is thinking of us, the little guys, who can't afford or don't necessarily want to go to three-hour intensive classes every day. It seems like the government is taking band-aid measures to try to force students to stop working illegally (which they won't, because there will always be a demand). And now they are trying to force us to go to the large language classes. Not that I mind learning a bit of Taiwanese, or anything ;)

Is the cold weird, or is it just me?

It's been raining the past few days. And for the first time, I had to wear a LONG-SLEEVE shirt and pants today. And shoes. It feels so weird, wearing all these clothes. Or is wearing shorts on Halloween and not feeling cold weird? I can't figure it out...

I'm almost at the end of the school quarter and I have to choose a new class. I was thinking of doing the intensive course, which is three hours a day instead of two and goes faster than the regular course. Since my knowledge of Chinese characters and grammar is slightly more advanced than what we're doing now, it may not be that hard. And the intensive class has less students, so it would give me more opportunities to talk. Also, right now I'm on a scholarship, which means I can devote a lot of my energies to studying. Come May, when my scholarship runs out, I'll have to start working to support myself, and will not be able to devote as much time to my Chinese studies.

On the other hand, I'm not exactly the most diligent student, and the increased class time and homework load may be too much for me, even without working.

I think the real reason I want to do it is because I'm kind of annoyed at the fact that after studying for two years in France, my level is equivalent to someone who has been studying here for 8 months (taking into account that those are school years, it means it took the students here about half the time it took me). If I do the intensive course I can catch up to what I feel my level is supposed to be.

But what is my level 'supposed' to be? Since I'm here, and I'm not planning on going back to France anytime soon, I don't have anything to set my standards by. So does it really matter whether I take the intensive course or not?

End of the honeymoon

Yesterday I passed the two-month mark for my stay in Taiwan. I know from living abroad that the two-month mark is important because it’s the end of what I call the ‘honeymoon’ period- the time when everything seems new, exotic, and exciting. It’s also the moment that culture shock- that growing feeling of unease which creeps up on you- is most likely to strike.

On a brighter note, my Chinese skills have also crossed a threshold. I’m able to order simple things in restaurants and cafes without any trouble, and I can understand most of what my teacher says in class. I still have trouble when groups of native speakers have conversations, but that is normal.

Last Friday the scholarship students from Taipei had an orientation in a huge auditorium in the north part of town. We Taiwan Normal University students were sat on the balcony on the fourth floor, probably because we were so numerous. I was talking to Julie, a French girl I know, when Jerome, a Belgian, sat next to me. We started talking.

“Isn’t it weird that so many people are speaking Spanish here?” he asked.

I looked around. It was true that there were many people all around laughing and chatting in Spanish. The scene wasn’t new. In the school where I go, in the library or in the halls, it is common to hear people speaking Spanish. I didn’t think anything of it up until then, since there are many people from all over the world here, and Spanish speakers do tend to speak louder than, say, Asians.

“Isn’t it just because they are talking louder than everyone else?” I asked.

“I don’t know, maybe,” he replied.

Just then two people appeared on the stage, an Asian woman and a slightly taller man. The woman talked.

“Hello, ladies and gentlemen, distinguished guests…”

It was then that I noticed the dark suits sitting in the front rows.

“I will be your master of ceremonies for today, in English, and this man will be speaking in Spanish,” she motioned to the man.

“How come they don’t have a French master of ceremonies?” asked Jerome, somewhat jokingly.

So apparently there were more Spanish speakers than others. Then, when the first person, the President of our school, came to speak, everything became clear.

“I would like to introduce to you our distinguished guests. The Ambassador of the Marshall Islands, please stand up.”

“The Marshall Islands,” asked Jerome. “Where the hell is that?”

“It’s in the Pacific,” I replied.

The President continued. The Ambassadors of Vanuatu, the Solomon Islands, Belize, Nicaragua, Paraguay, The Dominican Republic, Guatemala, Haiti, Honduras, El Salvador, Burkina Faso, Palau, Nauru, the Gambia, Swaziland, and Malawi were all present. These are the countries which have continued to have diplomatic relations with Taiwan (see Note below), essentially recognizing its status as a country separate from continental China.

I later learned that students from these countries all received extensive scholarships (lasting three to four years) as a token of gratitude from Taiwan- hence the numerous Spanish speakers.

---

Note: Things like this remind me what a unique position Taiwan is in. An island of 22 million, Taiwan is essentially losing a diplomatic cold war against an ever-growing giant. As more and more countries seek to better relations with mainland China in order to increase trade, Taiwan is being alienated, politically at least. Still, since the island has a relatively developed economy, it cannot be completely ignored.

Typhoon Jangmi and the Campus Reporter

Saturday, 1:30pm- It's raining and cloudy again. Another typhoon is on its way. I don't let that stop me, though, and after a bit of walking around the red-brick buildings of National Taiwan Normal University (NTNU), I find the room I'm looking for.
No, this isn't a remedial Chinese class.

Last week, at the NTNU International students' welcome party, I had the pleasure of meeting (and being interviewed by) Jocy, a campus reporter at the school's newspaper, the Campus Reporter. Since I'm interested in exploring journalism as a career, I decided to ask her if there were any opportunities for writing articles at the school.
Jocy, a young college student who speaks excellent English, gave me more than I bargained for.
"Actually we are hiring right now. You should apply!"

A week later, I'm entering a classroom full of Taiwanese college students. Jocy invites me to sit down at the back of the class. This is the 'boot camp' for new campus reporters for, you guessed it, the Campus Reporter. They are giving speeches on how to find stories, how to ask questions, how to write articles. Only problem is, it's all in Chinese.
Occasionally, some students look back and are surprised to find a waiguoren sitting among them. I try to follow the speaker, Ms. Lin, but it's usually way too hard for me and I have to resort to asking Jocy to explain.
Six hours later, after a few short breaks (including a 30-minute bento box break for dinner) and some light conversation, we have to do the first writing exercise: describe today's boot camp. I now know why they called it a boot camp and briefly consider using the word "boring" in my description. But good sense prevails, and I write something along the lines of what I used to write in my former job as a translator for a news company.

"On 27 September 2008, 32 potential campus reporters met for the orientation meeting for the school newspaper."

I continued, listing the things that, as far as I knew, we did that day.
I went to the back of the line, waiting to see what the teacher's response would be (she had gone to a US university, so I figured speaking to her wouldn't be a problem).

When I got there, she asked me to read the thing. After reading half of it she stopped me.
"Too long. And try to write a better lead sentence. Talk about the atmosphere."
Atmosphere? WTF was she talking about?
I went back to my desk and started again. Jocy looked at me.
"Well? What did she say?"
"She said I need to write about atmosphere."
"That's the same thing she said to me!"
I tried to think of something that I had missed the first time. What could I possible write about that I had missed the first time around?
Then it hit me. My style was too dry, too factual. I shouldn't write like for a business newspaper. I needed to get the reader interested.

"'How do you make a compromise between creativity and objective reporting?' was on of the many questions addressed at the orientation meeting for new student reporters of the Campus Reporter."

I came back with a checkmark (which had freaked me out for a second- was this like Japan, where a checkmark means it's bad?) and- relief- the word 'good' written on my paper.
Another hour of talking and you can imagine I was itching to get out of there. I felt like we were having so much training we were going to become world-class reporters right then.
So after 7 hours of someone talking Chinese at me, you can imagine how happy I was to go home.

On the way back, I bought a bunch of supplies to prepare for the typhoon. Important stuff, like water, instant noodles, coffee, chocolate, beer. I've been reading up on typhoons and it seems the last one was small compared to what this one will be like. I can see that, considering it hasn't even hit land yet and there have already been huge downpours and window-rattling wind. After looking at some forums about it, I feel more ready for a typhoon than I've ever been.

And, tomorrow we don't have school!

Back to basics, and Ba Gua

Last Friday- I'm in my new Chinese class, with Teacher Zhu. In this class there are three Japanese, two Koreans, an Indonesian guy, an Indian guy, and a Canadian dude. At first I was a little bummed that I was in a lower level but now I realize it's probably the best thing that could happen to me. I know most of the characters (albeit in simplified form) and the grammar is not so hard. But in my first day in class we were reading passages from the textbook, with each student reading one line. So when it comes to my turn, I read off the characters as quickly and fluently as possible.
Teacher Zhu, dressed in light, pastel colors, (but not looking very easygoing) gives me a stern look and calls out my Chinese name: "Anjian." She looks at the other students.
"How is the character 'ke' pronounced?"
A chorus of voices pronounces it with a mild upward tone, as if asking a question: "ke?"
"That's right, second tone. You need to work on your tones, Anjian. Buy a red pen and mark the tones above all the characters, then practice them. Next student."

So this week I've been going over my basic characters, pronouncing them slowly and carefully. It's a mind-numbing task, considering I've been saying them wrong, or sometimes, just not pronouncing the tones. I have to relearn everything, but I think in the long term it will be worth it because I'll actually be understood when I speak. And I'm getting better.

Tuesday- A (Chinese) American I met, Jon, invited me to go to a Ba Gua class. I was really excited about this because I had heard about Ba Gua but never seen it. It's an internal martial art, which means that, like Tai Chi or Aikido, it's based on 'Qi' or internal energy instead of raw strength. Wondering whether it was going to be foreigner-friendly or all in Chinese, I asked if there were many foreigners at the class.
"It's taught by a foreigner," said Jon.
I had heard of these types of classes, taught by ex-pats who had years of experience. They were rarely advertised and mainly expanded through word-of-mouth.
"Cool, what's his name?"
"Fox."
I had never heard of Fox, but it would be interesting to see what the class would be like.

When I got to the location (which I will not divulge, except to say that it's a public area) there were a few students warming up and some young b-boy kids nearby, playing hip-hop and practicing freezes. I stretched a bit with Jon and made small talk. Then I saw a big black guy approach. He was wearing athletic wear and clear sunglasses, a la RZA, . At first I thought he was meeting the b-boys.
That was Fox.
Fox has a muscular physique, but carries it effortlessly, more like a dancer than a bodybuilder. Spotting me as the new student, he came directly towards me and greeted me.
"Yo, what's up man? Have you ever practiced Kung Fu before?"
"Uh...yeah, I practiced in France a modern style."
"Cool, I teach Ba Gua. It's a bit like Kung Fu, but kinda different. You'll see."

The class was good, more athletic than Tai Chi, but not as demanding as Kung Fu. Though the moves could be considered internal, Fox preferred a hands-on approach, making us practice in pairs.
Occasionally the b-boys would check out some of the moves we were doing, interested in the circular movements of the Ba Gua. Likewise, sometimes we couldn't help but check out the b-boys' crazy acrobatics. It was a moment where the cultural visions of each were reversed- a group of young Taiwanese practicing a relatively new dance form created in the West, and some waiguoren practicing an age-old martial art invented in the East.
Not sure if I'm going to stick with this particular martial art (there are tons here and I should check some out before making a decision) but it's a step in the right direction.

Back to school

So I had my first day at school. In the class, taught by a Ms. Li, there are six women and two men (including me). There are two Vietnamese (one man and one woman), a Balinese, a Thai, a Russian, a Japanese, and a Korean. In the class we give self-introductions which takes about an hour (the class is two hours long). I was surprised to hear that most of them had been studying Chinese for under a year. But I'm cool with this. Sure, they are using some words I don't know, but I understand the general gist.
Then the next hour comes. The teacher hands us a sheet, all in Chinese, of how the class is to be carried out. I can read some of it but am anxious that I miss something important. She talks about 'tingxie.' Of course I know what that means because we used to do it all the time in France (dictée or dictation). She goes on to explain how the class will go, but I only understand a few words and have no idea about the general meaning. I start to get a little nervous. Actually, one of the requirements for the scholarship I am on is that I have to get grades of at least 80 percent. So that's where my anxiety was coming from.
Then we play a game where we each get cards with words on them and we have to explain the word without saying it and others have to guess what it means.
I don't know if it was the words they had chosen, but I suddenly felt like that time when I was six years old and learning how to swim and I just went into the deep end of the pool and freaked out and almost drowned (I didn't almost drown, but I thought I did). It wasn't just the fact that I didn't know most of the words, it was also that everyone was just speaking so comfortably and I was there, like a sitting duck. Now I know what my Junior High School Japanese students felt like when I tried to make them talk.
Ms. Lin said if anyone felt the class was too difficult she had no problem with letting them go. And that was my cue. As soon as the class was over, I went over to her and told her it was too hard. She explained to me calmly and clearly what it was I had to do.
I didn't understand any of it. (Actually, they had explained it in the orientation meeting, but I was, let's say, chemically imbalanced at the time.) After struggling a little, I finally understood the words 'sixth floor'.
I went to the sixth floor and told them I wanted to change classes. They asked me if I had talked to my teacher about what level I needed to be in. "Maybe you should talk with her about your level.' They said. So I went back upstairs to the teacher's office, found Ms. Li, and asked her what level she thought I should be in.
"Maybe you need to be in a group which uses book two," she said. She went and got the book.
I really didn't want to go to a group that uses book two. This is what I get after two years of university-level Chinese? She asked me if I knew the characters. Yes, I said, it's just that at my school in France we were learning simplified ones. "OK," she says, and starts to walk me to another office.
When we get to the office, they say that since I am a new student I need to stay in the class for at least two days to try it out. And that's that.
I think what really annoys me is that the school I went to in France, Inalco (allegedly the best in the nation for teaching Chinese), never taught us how to really speak. After I left the teacher and looked at my textbook and textbook two, I noticed that I knew about 90% of the words and most of the grammar. But it was just the combination of the inability to speak and the difficulty in listening which prevented me from participating in the class. And it's probably because at Inalco the most we had to do in class, in terms of communication, was nod our heads when the teacher asked if we understood and present a short dialogue which we had memorized in front of the class (JET teachers, does this ring a bell?)
Ultimately taking a few steps back will be good for me because it will consolidate the information I know and I'll actually learn how to speak it in a regular conversation. In the end, that's why I came here.

The last week of summer...

This past week was the last week before actually beginning classes. I saw Jean Robert, a class mate and documentary film director, for the last time before he went back to Paris (we had a Japanese style all-you-can-eat hot pot and grill). I went to the government office to sign up for my Alien Registration Card. Mr. Zhang took me to the grocery store (huge, but I couldn't find any canned tomatoes).
On Friday I went to ShiDa, the university I will be going to, for the orientation meeting and to find out my schedule. I managed to arrive at the red-brick building where the meeting took place on time, but I didn't have time to get a coffee before arriving. So you can imagine the headache I had during the whole meeting (OK, I admit, I'm addicted to caffeine.)
After the meeting, which IMO didn't have anything really interesting to say, I went downstairs to get a coffee before getting my schedule and books. I figured by the time I got back upstairs the long line for the schedules would have disappeared.
I ordered a 'bing' (iced) coffee at the small cafe downstairs and sipped it slowly, visualising the receptors in my brain which were firing up after getting a healthy dose of caffeine. Magic.
But when I returned back to the fifth floor, surprise, there was still a super long line which I had to wait in. I saw a guy who looked completely lost, and saw others try to talk to him in English and show him where to go. Still clueless. He fixed his gaze on me and then asked me in French "do you know where I need to go?"
I quickly translated everything the other person had said in English. "Orientation is over there," I said, pointing towards the door.
"Yeah, I bet the orientation is in English too!" He replied.
"And Chinese!" I joked.
That was weird. How did he know I was French?
Anyway, after I finally got my schedule, I went upstairs to get my books. I looked at the paper. Dammit! I start classes at 8:10AM! I'm not sure what my level is but my book says level 3, so it can't be that bad. I mean, I had been worrying that either a) they noticed I had taken two years of university-level Chinese, so would put me in a super difficult class, or b) they noticed how I bombed the evaluation test, and would put me in a beginner's class. But it seems they put me in a class which is not too difficult but still challenging (to be confirmed in the near future).
This weekend I tried to practice some more traditional characters, looked at my textbook a little, and got fed chou (stinky) tofu by Mr. Zhang. I had asked him about the restaurant downstairs, and he said he didn't know if it was any good but that he could make me some. So on Saturday I tried it. The tofu, which looks and smells like a fresh cow patty (OK, actually it only smells like one), doesn't taste so bad, a bit like a spongy fermented cheese.
Today, to return the favor, I made spaghetti bolognese for Mr. Zhang, his son, and his mother (who came over for lunch). We talked in Chinese most of the time, which is good practice for me. I have no idea what the old lady is saying though, she just says stuff to me and laughs. I can't wait to speak Chinese well enough to understand because she seems to be having a hoot.