fter living in the ’Jing for almost seven years, people from back home ask: “So, are you fluent in Chinese yet, or what?” At first, I would say, “Oh, I’m only staying a year, so there’s no need. But as one year turned to two (and then seven), I realized I’d made a big mistake.
Like many others, I came to China with the idea that I would be teaching for a short time and getting an exciting experience on the other side of the world, but after that, I would go back to the US. Arriving in China, I was glad to see that most of the signs were in English and Chinese, and I was able to navigate and ask questions using a translator app or WeChat.
I even found myself using apps to have full conversations over BBQ and beers with locals. I felt like I was really connecting and learning the culture. However, there were so many occasions where not having even a little conversational Chinese left me in the dark. The first phrase I ever learned in Chinese was “Can I have a beer?”
While not the most practical phrase, it was pretty beneficial for me. From there I learned how to count and directionals. If I had any advice on what a newcomer should learn right away, it would be these two.
On my first visit to the Silk Market, I wanted to get presents for my family as I was about to travel home for a visit. I felt like a target walking in. Although I wasn’t a tourist, I didn’t have enough Chinese to get the good deals. A friend told me there are three prices: one for foreigners who don’t speak Chinese, one for foreigners who speak Chinese and one for Chinese.
I walked into a knock-off designer handbag stall and started to look around. I picked up a bag and the shop owner said 1,000 in Chinese. Scraping up the little Chinese I knew I said, “Wǒ bùyào. Sìbǎi ma?” aka “I don’t want. 400?” While that is in no way the correct way to phrase what I was saying, the shop owner said in accented English, “Oh! You know Chinese. Ok, 400 for you!” I walked out with the bag in hand and the “foreigner who knows Chinese” price.
The bulk of my minimal Chinese library came from my stint working in a restaurant for most of my first year here. None of my coworkers spoke English and even though it was an international restaurant, most of our customers didn’t speak English either. Luckily the dishes were numbered on the menu, so my skills did not go to waste there, but when customers or my coworkers needed things like an extra plate, napkins or cleaning cloths, I was once again in the dark.
Over my year working there, I learned what I call my “restaurant Chinese.” I was fluent in items like a fork, knife, ice and cup, and learned a few greetings.
All my Chinese came from this first year. Other than a smattering of other phrases like “airplane” or asking for the time, that was as far as it went. I would brush it off by saying, “Well, it’s so easy to live here without learning it” or “It seems like something you really need to invest in, but I don’t have the time.” But I did. I had seven years to be exact.
I have found myself many times being the only person at the table who doesn’t speak any Chinese, even tables with mostly expat friends. It feels rude to force a table of friends to speak English when I am the only one who doesn’t speak Chinese in China. In addition, traveling within China for the past few years has made me see that knowing the language could enrich my experiences.
While I do feel like I wasted seven years of opportunity, every day is another chance for a new start (or so they say). So, I am finally going to sign up for some Chinese classes. I may never become a YouTube star for being a foreigner surprising Chinese with my perfect pronunciation, but at least I will be able to communicate better and get more out of my time in China. Wish me luck, or should I say, “Zhù wǒ hǎo yùn.”
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