Chinese tones: lao ban (London / Singapore)

Speakers of other languages often find it difficult to come to grips with the tones in the Chinese language, whether it’s saying things in Chinese, or decoding Chinese spoken to them.  The usual worry is about saying things in the wrong tones, ending up saying something offensive, which is another thing they get warned about.

    I try to ease their fears by telling them that it’s not that common that the wrong-tone version will make sense in the particular context, therefore they shouldn’t be too fearful about speaking.  (In my experience, a lot of students end up with the rabbit-in-the-headlights effect, just freezing up because they’re too worried about too many things.)

    One example, however, proved me wrong.

    An American private student kept getting her tones wrong for “boss” / lǎobǎn / 老板 / “old plank”, saying instead lǎobàn / 老伴 / “old companion”, which is a colloquial / informal term used by an old couple for referring to their spouse.  I pointed this out each time, warning her that both could make sense (my boss / my husband) if the context is not that clear.

    A few months later, she flew out to Singapore.  I had offered my second sister as her guide during her time in Singapore, so that she could practise her Mandarin.  They did spend time together, during which my student told my sister about her going out with a man from Malaysia and therefore intending to hop across the border to visit his parents.

    The next day, my student told my sister that she was going out to the airport to meet her 老伴 lǎobàn / “old companion”, who was stopping over in Singapore en route to Australia.

    My sister said to her, “I know you Westerners are very liberal and all that, but here you are, openly telling me you have a boyfriend when you are already married, and even intending to visit the boyfriend’s parents!”

    My student said, “Ah!!  Your sister did warn me about that more than once.  The chickens have come home to roost!”

(London / Singapore, 1980s)

Still clumsy as a septuagenarian (London)

 

The wild garlic season has started.  It’s a short season, lasting about three months, so I try to go and pick as often as I can, for the exercise and the therapy as it’s so meditative, then give it away to students and friends.  (A robin there also comes to keep me company, singing to me from the branches aloft.)

    Shanghai-based student is back in London on a maternity cover stint, which means he’s only around for a short while.  He was driving to Bristol to see his parents, so I thought I’d catch a rare lift for my wild garlic to give to his mother, who’s also my student.

    Delivered the wild garlic to his office in the City, which is in a glass-fronted block with a huge double-storey foyer (both seem to be the trend in the last couple of decades at least).  Big reception desk — three on duty yesterday, not the usual lone one whenever I turned up at 5.30pm for the lessons.  At least three porters standing around.

    As I was leaving after handing over the wild garlic, people were coming back to the building from lunch, going through the revolving door at a brisk pace.

    I went up to it and stood there looking at the feet entering it, watching for a gap.

 

    Forgetting that I had approached it from the side, which means that I wasn’t actually standing by the opening, I stepped forward as soon as I saw a gap.  An almighty SMACK BOING rang through the foyer.

    Everyone stopped and turned to look at the source of that noise.

    The porter nearest me asked if I’d like to sit down.  No way was I going to let them have a good look at me and remember my face, no way.  I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

    Of all the places and the time of day to walk into a glass wall, I had to do it with so many witnesses around.

    I will have to wear a balaclava or a burka/niqab next time I go to that building…

(London, 2025)

Read also O-chyo-ko-chyo-yi 

https://piccola-chinita.blogspot.com/2011/07/o-chyo-ko-chyo-i.html

Tripped up by Sir Stamford Raffles (UK)

(This blog is inspired by photos of two RI [Raffles Institution] classmates taken with Sir Stamford Raffles:  one with Lay Geok laying her hand on his left shoulder; one with Yee Jing standing by him, copying his typical arms-across-the-chest pose.  How chummy, I said.  [Yes, yes, it was only a statue, so he had no choice... — I mean Raffles having no choice about Lay Geok and Yee Jing doing a chummy pose with him... hee hee hee.])

One summer (1980? 1981?), I was cycling with two friends from one place in north London (Golders Green, a predominantly Jewish area) to another place in north London (Mill Hill East).

    After leaving a busy road and entering a totally deserted road, Michael and Valerio whizzed ahead down the long slope (which then went uphill) towards Mill Hill East.

    With my bad hay fever, I thought I should give my nose a quick wipe/blow before tackling that long slope, first down, then up.  

    I normally use my left hand to wipe/blow my nose, so with my right hand, I gave the brake lever what I thought was a little squeeze to slow down while I quickly wiped/blew my nose.  

    Unfortunately, it was more than a little squeeze.  

    The right-hand brake lever controls the front wheel, so the next thing was:  I was catapulted over the handlebars and ended up lying there in the (fortunately deserted) road — until my friends came back for me after I failed to show up.

    There was a church right there, where I had my accident, so we went in to get some first aid.

    I saw them decorating the church for some commemoration of Stamford Raffles!  When I asked why they were commemorating him, the answer was, “He’s buried here in the churchyard!”

    I went to check it out — yep, he’s there.

    That quiet road in Hendon (area near Golders Green) leading to Mill Hill East is not one I’d normally take.  Spook factor 1.

    It was chosen by Michael because he was living in Golders Green at the time.  It was his idea to cycle to Mill Hill East and to get there down that totally deserted road.  London is so big.  Why did he choose Mill Hill East and why that route?!?  Spook factor 2.  

    That road was totally deserted, with no cars or pedestrians around to cause my accident.  Yet, I had to get myself catapulted over the handlebars doing something as minor as wiping/blowing my nose.  Spook factor 3.

    And why right there, just outside the church?!?  Not earlier, not later.  Spook factor 4.

    I believe to this day that it was he, Sir Stamford Raffles, founder of Singapore, and founder of Raffles Institution where I’d spent two unique-experience Pre-U years, who’d stuck out a foot/leg to trip me up, “You’re not going to cycle past without dropping in to say hello!”

(London, 1980? 1981?)

(i) https://www.nlb.gov.sg/main/article-detail?cmsuuid=64b03f60-837e-4565-b26d-d7c12d7ed8a4

Quote 

Raffles was buried in the Hendon parish church. No memorial tablets was permitted to be set up for Raffles until 1887. The location of the grave had been lost until accidentally discovered in April 1914 in a vault beneath the church. 

Unquote 

(ii) https://hansard.parliament.uk/commons/1912-04-02/debates/6b759e35-28bf-4ae8-9ccd-492371c694e1/HendonParishChurch(GraveOfSirTStamfordRaffles) 

Hendon Parish Church (Grave Of Sir T Stamford Raffles)

Volume 36: debated on Tuesday 2 April 1912

 

(iii) https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/St_Mary%27s_Church,_Hendon 

Escalators that detect footfall?

 

I’m watching a modern mainland Chinese drama on YouTube that was aired on Chinese TV in 2015.  There’s a scene involving taking the restaurant chef to the hospital for his skin allergy.  I see that the escalators carry on moving even when there’s no one around.

    This makes me think:  why not design them (escalators anywhere, not just in hospitals and not just in China) so that they only start moving when people approach or step onto the lowest step, rather like ceiling lights that go off after x seconds when there’s no movement in the room?

    This should save some energy (and therefore bills as well, so it’s economical, not just ecological).  I think there’s an escalator at a London Underground station (Liverpool Street?) that already does this:  I thought it’d only started to move as I stepped onto it a fortnight ago when I was there.

    Smoke detectors work on the same principle (springing into action when there's something alien or different in the air, in this case “smoke”), and they’ve been around for a while.

    Automatic doors that slide open or revolving doors that start to go round (in shops, supermarkets, hotels and office blocks, just to name four off the top of my head) at the approach of a human being have been around for decades, so why not escalators in the 21st century?

   

    My nearest Tube station, Manor House on the Piccadilly line in Zone 2 in north London, does not consistently have that many people throughout the day.

    The London Underground Tube system is so vast there must be loads of other stations (outside central London / Zone 1, or even Zone 2) that have very slack footfall stretches outside peak time.

    I was once in conference with someone in a classroom at the university, in the late 90s.  As we were just sitting there, discussing the text for translation, not moving at all, the lights would go off after a certain duration.  We had to start waving our arms about to set off the movement detectors.

    So, why not escalators in the 21st century when even AI (artificial intelligence) is so advanced?

(2025)