(London, 2026)
The characters in Mehmet, Cuzco chico and Changing currencies are the ones (+ my nephew Kaikai) who'd inspired me to start writing up my memories of my travels and events in my life (and other people's). If you think any of the contents might cause offence, please alert me. Being new to writing, I'm still tinkering, so they'll be morphing all the time.
(London, 2026)
I grew up hearing this expression being used for explaining dysfunctional families (or discordant human relations):
有的人是來討債的、有的人是來還債的
有的人是来讨债的、有的人是来还债的
yǒu de rén shì lái tǎo zhài de, yǒu de rén shì lái huán zhài de
Some people have come [into this world / life] to seek repayment of a debt, some to repay a debt
This is often useful in helping me come to terms with (not necessarily accepting willingly, though) people behaving badly, especially if I'd been helping them and they then abandon me when I need their help. (I rarely ask for help, by the way, so when I do, it's usually out of desperation.)
I say to myself, "I must've done something bad [especially but not exclusively to them] in my previous life, so I'm paying back in this one."
There's a word in the Hokkien (福建 / Fujian) and Teochew (潮州 / Chaozhou) (S.E. Chinese) dialects for an offspring, usually a male one, who brings ruin to the family:
討債仔 / 讨债仔
tǎo zhài zǎi
(Hokkien reading) thó-tsè-kiánn
(Teochew reading) tó-ziêh-giá
"seek debt[repayment] child/son"
(from googling)
通常指敗家子、浪費錢財的人或消耗家庭資源的人。它源於台語,形容人不珍惜財物、無節制浪費,有「敗家」、「不長進」的貶義色彩。在語境中,它也可用來形容令人費心、帶來負擔的人。
通常指败家子、浪费钱财的人或消耗家庭资源的人。它源于台语,形容人不珍惜财物、无节制浪费,有“败家”、“不长进”的贬义色彩。在语境中,它也可用来形容令人费心、带来负担的人。
(google translate) It usually refers to a spendthrift, a person who squanders money, or someone who drains family resources. Originating from Taiwanese, it describes someone who doesn't cherish money and wastes it without restraint, carrying a negative connotation of "spendthrift" and "unambitious." In context, it can also be used to describe someone who causes trouble and becomes a burden.
I've just heard about someone waking up in the morning with psychotic thoughts following some disturbing dream in the night.
Now, I'm no doctor, so these are just my personal wild ideas, which must already have been considered and employed by the specialists.
One path to explore might be to expose the person to pleasant things (aural or visual, e.g., soothing music or sounds of natural phenomena like wind, water and waves; paintings, Chinese calligraphy or art visuals) last thing before sleep, imbuing him with nice sounds and therefore nice dreams. Sort of re-wiring his dream feeds / paths, which might then result in pleasant dreams, and therefore pleasant thoughts upon waking, or at least no psychotic thoughts.
I say the above having in mind what happened in my BA.4 [final] year at SOAS (School of Oriental and African Studies).
The Japanese teacher (who was also the head of the Japanese Section) made us do a vocabulary test every Friday morning: 25 kanji (Chinese characters / 漢字 / Hànzì) each week, cumulative.
Background to Japanese kanji: each one has a minimum of two readings (a Chinese reading and a Japanese reading). More if they’re also used as verbs, e.g., with different endings (past tense, transitive or intransitive, etc.). So it’s 25 characters (minimum two readings) in Week.1, 50 characters (minimum two readings) in Week.2, etc.
I asked to be excused from this test since Japanese was my Special Subject, not my major, but Prof. O’Neill said, “You can do it, you don't need to spend much time learning them, you won’t have any trouble!”
It’d be disrespectful, after what he’d said, not to turn up, so on Thursday nights I’d learn them last thing before sleeping.
I got full marks every Friday morning, so Prof. O’Neill said, “See? I told you!”
A couple of decades later, I read somewhere that when we’re asleep, the brain is then filing (/ sorting out) what we’ve experienced (/ seen, heard) during the day, starting with the latest (/ last seen or heard). So maybe that’s why my learning the Japanese kanji last thing before sleep was so effective.
So, I wonder if the same might help for the person waking up with psychotic thoughts after some horrible dream the night before. If my exposing my brain to kanji readings and meanings last thing before sleeping helped net me full marks for those tests the next day, then exposing the person to pleasant things last thing before his bedtime might let his brain file pleasant things during his sleep, which might then become pleasant dream memories when he wakes up, instead of psychotic thoughts. Break the nasty dream after-effect / circuit before it can carry on into the next day in the form of psychotic thoughts.
Or, if it’s not easy to set it up as a pre-slumber routine, then do it as a during-slumber one: playing pleasant sounds (music, natural phenomena [wind, waves, water]) to him during his sleep. This might stop the nasty dreams from entering, leaving the brain waking up with only pleasant vibes, or at least nothing nasty.
I say the above because I listen (in rotation) to a couple of YouTube story-telling channels to help me sleep. Most of the stories are set in ancient China, with a lot of them featuring humans saving some animal that then comes back later to repay its debt, which is nice content. I usually fall asleep within the first couple of lines.
If I don’t fall asleep that quickly, I spend the time listening out for things that I can use in my teaching (the stories are narrated in Mandarin), which is another distraction factor — stops my mind from thinking about horrible people and horrible things. I call it Distraction Therapy, with gardening, healing and teaching being my usual Distraction Therapy tools.
Old friend Valerio posted a photo of something he saw at Heathrow (en route to Rome) which says "Chat to us via WhatsApp", wanting to know if "chat to" was correct English. He says only "chat with" is used in American English.
This reminds me of my time in Taipei working for Conoco Taiwan.
A radio operator colleague's friend, Mr Yang, was a manager at a hotel who decided to run a little business on the side, training tourist guides.
There was a national exam for it, comprising the obvious elements related to tourism: the geography and history of Taiwan, especially the popular tourist sites, and English.
The English test was in two parts: a multiple-choice Q&A test (for the Listening element), and a one-to-one interview (for the Oral element).
Mr Yang asked me to design a batch of sample multiple-choice papers for his course, then record them (with me and a male voice to distinguish between the Q role and the A role).
Rather than just let the students listen to the recordings (which was all they had to do for the test), Mr Yang decided to invite me along for the feedback once their answer sheets had been marked (by one of his staff). This would give the students extra Listening and Oral practice and interaction, which was all good preparation for the interview element, and of course for real life listening and speaking (which they didn't get much of in those days). Most forward-thinking indeed, to give his business that extra pull factor.
When the would-be students found out at enrolment that the teacher was to be someone from Singapore, a lot of them objected, saying they wanted an American. One of them, a Singaporean studying at the National University of Taiwan, said, "I'm from Singapore. I know what the standard of English is like there. I don't want to learn English from a Singaporean."
Mr Yang said they could attend a couple of lessons to find out for themselves what the quality of my English was before deciding to register and pay. At the end of my first lesson, all the Doubting Thomases paid up for the whole course without testing me for the rest of the two lessons that they were allowed to sit through before paying up. (A lot of them said, in case you're interested, that, in their experience, not all native-speakers knew how to explain to them how the language works or why.)
Their multiple-choice test exercises could be, and were, marked (during the break before I stepped in for the feedback) by Mr Yang's staff using the answer sheets provided by me (the setter). My presence, therefore, had to have a value-added element to it, so:
* Rather than just let them have their marked answer scripts back, I asked them to explain why their right/wrong answers were right/wrong. This gave them some practice in speaking, as well as some training in being what I now call in my teaching of Mandarin "Sherlock Holmes" (one of his skills being deductive reasoning) -- a skill they'd have to apply in real life, without the teacher being there to give them the nod (or otherwise).
* I threw in as much extra information and insights as I could into things related to the English language that they might not know. One example: names used in real life / informal reference / as nicknames, especially by Americans*, don't always match their official versions -- Bill for William is not so far out, but Chuck for Charles is not such an obvious link, nor Dick for Richard, nor Bob for Robert. When I saw them scribbling furiously in their notebooks, I knew I was on the right track. (Taiwan was an ally of America at the time, so they were mostly exposed to Americans, e.g., the soldiers based there. In fact, all white-looking foreigners would be "American" to them, even those who speak with a very strong non-English accent, e.g., French, German, Italian, Spanish, because Taiwanese people didn't know enough English, nor enough about the outside world, to be able to tell the difference. The Western equivalent would be that "all Chinese people look alike" -- in my case, "all Africans" when I first went to SOAS / School of Oriental and African Studies.)
* I taught them as much tourist-scenario-based English as possible, which also served as preparation for the one-to-one interview element of their test. One obvious scenario was shopping, so I went for role-playing, e.g., how to ask about prices / ask for other options in colour or size, etc. To one of the phrases I taught them, "That's too expensive," a student raised his hand and said, "I thought the way to say it is, [complete with an American twang] 'It's a rip-off!'" Hahahahaha, I still laugh now as I'm writing this. I had to issue the warning (and still do, now, more than half a century later) that it would be safer to steer clear of slang.
(Taiwan, 1975)
A common expression in Mandarin Chinese (and in some dialects as well) said when one's leaving a place is:
我先走了
wǒ xiān zǒu le
"I first leave change-of-state-marker"
The English equivalent would be, "I'm off now."
It means "I’m leaving first", i.e., before the listener.
To me, the logic is fine if the listener is leaving as well, just a bit later (e.g., staying on a bit longer at the office to do overtime), so the speaker is leaving first, to be followed by the listener at some later point.
It is, however, very strange logic to me when it's said by a departing guest to the host who is remaining behind (maybe not leaving until the next day to go to work).
Tuesday being the first day of Chinese New Year, I played a few Chinese word games with my Tuesday group students.
One of them was a clue leading to a place name, which in this case was Changsha 长沙 / "long sand".
This then reminded me of a book I'd read in the 80s written by an American (Mark Salzman) who'd done his first degree in Chinese at Yale, no less. He'd taught English in Changsha for two years but was mainly there because of his keen interest in kungfu, Changsha having a kungfu master he admires. (For those who don't know but might be interested, Changsha has a political connection with Mao Zedong.)
I told my students about his run-in with the concierge at the school where he was teaching English, but that will have to be recounted in a separate blog.
Fired up by the memory, I went to YouTube to track down the film he'd subsequently made (and starred in), based on his book (Iron and Silk, also the name of the film).
Fairly soon into the film, there's a scene where his (female) Chinese teacher arrives for his lesson in his room.
(Below is my summary of the scene.)
The teacher sits down. The American is ready to start. The teacher tells him that being the host (and the student in this case), he should begin by offering the teacher some tea.
He fetches some tea, the teacher says no, he takes the tea back to the sideboard. The teacher says that's not the right thing to do. He says, "But you said no." The teacher explains that the Chinese guest has to do that -- it's part of the ritual.
This immediately got a bonus point from me (occupational hazard, teacher mode is never turned off): one doesn't just learn the language, one has to learn about the history and cultural behaviour as well. (In my teaching of the language, I distinguish between grammatical usage and cultural usage: a sentence might be grammatically correct, but it might not really be how the Chinese would say it.)
He then sits down again to start the lesson. The teacher says he should offer her something to eat. He fetches some sweets, the teacher says no, and the same thing happens again: he takes the sweets back to the sideboard. The teacher launches another explanation about the host / guest routine. Another bonus point from me.
At the end of the lesson, the teacher gets up to leave. He says goodbye to her at the door of his dormitory room. The teacher tells him that as the host (and the student), he's supposed to walk her off the premises. Another bonus point.
Part of the way to the main entrance of the university compound, the teacher tells him that he doesn't have to go any further. He starts to leave her there to make his way back to his room. Again, the teacher explains what's expected of him. It's another stage in the host / guest role-playing game. (Reminds me of the oft-heard expression, in my younger days anyway, about women saying no but not really meaning it...)
The above is my summary of the scene. Some of the details might not match the original exactly, but you can watch the film for yourself.
I've found it charming and fun to watch -- not just for the kungfu, which is a passion of mine as well, but more broadly for the social history. It's a China that's not around anymore for the most part: architecturally, people's attitude about foreigners, the way of life, the materialistic quality of life. The teachers he was teaching English to remind me of the staff of China Airlines (the national carrier for the Republic of China) in Taipei that I used to teach on Saturdays: their accents and their cultural behaviour.
A time warp watching this film.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cOIbalP7dj8 (1:31:53)
Doing my Spoonerism stories with the English conversation class yesterday for listening and guided speaking has awakened a memory from my childhood days.
The Mandarin for lantern is 燈籠 / 灯笼 / dēng lóng / "lamp cage".
In my southern Chinese dialect of Teochew (潮州 / Cháozhōu), it's pronounced deng lang. As a child, I always called it leng dang.
(Singapore, 1960s)
Spoonerism: Shandy the dog (https://piccola-chinita.blogspot.com/2011/08/spoonerism-shandy-dog.html)
Spoonerism: kepala and kelapa (https://piccola-chinita.blogspot.com/2011/07/spoonerism-kepala-and-kelapa.html)
Spoonerism: crooks and nannies (https://piccola-chinita.blogspot.com/2011/07/spoonerism-crooks-and-nannies.html)
Spoonerism: I'll ask the chicken (https://piccola-chinita.blogspot.com/2011/07/spoonerism.html)